The New Forest: its history and its scenery/Chapter 22

by John Richard de Capel Wise

 

CHAPTER XXII.

THE ORNITHOLOGY.

To describe the Fauna of the Forest is beyond the purpose of this book, and would, beside, require a life-time to properly accomplish. I can only here deal with the ornithology as I have with the botany. I do not know either that the general reader will lose anything by the treatment. A scientific knowledge is not so much needed as, first of all, a sympathy with nature, and a love for all her forms of beauty. The great object in life is not to know, but to feel. But, before we speak of the birds, let us correct some errors which are so common with regard to the animals. It is quite a mistake to talk of wild boars or wild ponies roaming over the Forest. There is not now an animal here without an owner. The wild boars introduced by Charles I., and others brought over some fifty years ago, are seen only in their tame descendants—sandy-coloured, or "badger-pied," as they are called, which are turned out into the Forest during the pannage months.^[1]

So, too, the Forest ponies never run wild, except in the sense of being unbroken. Lath-legged, small-bodied, and heavy-headed, but strong and hardy, living on nothing in the winter but the furze, they are commonly said, without the slightest ground, to be descendants of the Spanish horses which swam ashore from the disabled ships of the Armada.

And now for the ornithology. The thick woods, the lonely moors and holts, attract the birds of prey; the streams and marshes the waders; whilst the estuaries of the Beaulieu, and Lymington, and Christchurch rivers, and the Solent, afford a shelter in winter to the geese and ducks driven from the north.

Again, too, the peculiar mildness of the climate has its effect on the birds as well as the plants. The martin and the swallow come early in March and stay till the end of November; that is to say, remain full three-quarters of the year. I have heard, too, the cuckoo as early as April 11th and as late as July the 12th. The warblers, whose arrival depends so much on the south-east winds, may not come earlier than in other parts of England. They certainly, however, in the southern and more cultivated parts, where food is plentiful, stay here later than in the Midland Counties; and I have heard the whitethroat singing, as on a spring day, in the middle of October.

We will begin with the birds of prey. Gilpin (vol. ii. p. 294) mentions a pair of golden eagles, which, for many years, at times frequented King's Wood, and a single specimen, killed near Ashley Lodge. These, however, with the exception of one shot some twenty years ago over Christchurch Harbour, are the last instances of a bird, which can now be seldom seen except in the north of Scotland. Yarrell,^[2] too, notices that the sea eagle (Aquila albicilla) is sometimes a visitor in the district, but though I have been down under the Hordle and Barton Cliffs, day after day, for often six months together, I have never seen a specimen. Still it sometimes occurs in the winter, and is mistaken for its rarer ally; and the Eagle Tree at the extreme west end of Vinney Ridge still commemorates where one was shot, some fifty years ago, by a Forest-keeper. The osprey, however (Falco haliæëtus), still frequents the coast in the autumn, and still circles over Christchurch Harbour fishing for his prey, where, as Yarrell mentions, he is well known as the "grey-mullet hawk," on account of his fondness for that fish.

The Peregrine Falcon (Falco peregrinus), which breeds on the high Culver Cliffs of the Isle of Wight, and in the Lulworth Rocks, is in the summer a regular visitor, and scours the whole country. No year goes by without some half-dozen or more being killed.

Its congener the hobby (Falco subbuteo), known in the Forest as "the van-winged hawk," comes about the same time as the honey-buzzard, building in the old, deserted nests of crows and magpies, and even, as in one case, to my knowledge, in that of the honey-buzzard. The bird, however, is becoming scarce. For several years I have known a pair or two build in Buckhill Wood, of which a sketch is given at the end of this chapter, but last year none came. It lays generally about the beginning of June, though I have received its eggs as late as July 12th. Yarrell says that their number is three or four; but, with Mr. Hoy,^[3] I have never known the bird lay more than three, and very often only two.

The goshawk (Falco palumbarius) and the rough-legged buzzard (Falco lagopus) are very rarely seen; but, I fear, the kite, although so plentiful in Gilpin's time, has nearly deserted this, like all other districts. Once, and once only, has it been seen by Mr. Farren. The honey-buzzard, however (Falco apivorus), comes regularly over from Germany about the end of May, attracted, in some measure, perhaps, by its favourite food, the larvae of wasps and bees, but chiefly by the wide range of the woods. At Mark Ash and Puckpits I have frequently, for an hour together, watched a couple, sailing with their wings outspread, allowing the wind, on a boisterous day, to catch them, till it almost veered them over; just circling round the tops of the beeches, sometimes even "tumbling," like a pigeon, and answering each other with their sharp, short cry, prolonged every now and then into a melancholy wail. Its favourite breeding stations are amongst the tall beech-woods round Lyndhurst, in Mark Ash, and Gibbs Hill, Puckpits, Coalmeer, Prior's Acre, and the oaks of Bentley and Sloden. The nest is always placed in the old one of a crow, or even the common buzzard, whose young by that time have flown, and sometimes made on the top of a squirrel's "cage," the birds contenting themselves with only re-shaping it, and lining the inside with fresh green leaves. The fact of a squirrel's "cage" being used will account for the nest being sometimes found so low, and on a comparatively small tree. No rule can therefore be laid down as to its position. I have known the bird build in very different situations. Mr. Rake found its nest in Sloden, on the forked bough of a low oak, not thirty feet from the ground. In 1860 a pair built, not very much higher, in the overhanging branch of a beech in Puckpits; and, in the same year, another pair reared their young on the top of a fir in Holmy Ridge Hill. And in 1861 and 1862, I knew of two nests, not fifty yards apart, in Mark Ash, each placed nearly at the top of the very tallest beeches in the wood, at least seventy or eighty feet from the ground. As so little appears to be known about its breeding habits, I may as well add a few more words. It seldom arrives till the beginning of June, when the leaves are thick on the trees, and immediately commences its nest, for which purpose it seems only to come, as it immediately departs when the young birds can fly. Pairs have been known, however, not to lay till the end of July; and, I am assured by one of the Forest keepers, not sometimes till even the beginning of August; but these are, doubtless, cases where the birds have been robbed of their first eggs. It differs from the common buzzard in not flying away when disturbed during incubation, but merely skimming round the top of the tree in small circles, uttering its short, shrill cry, sometimes both male and female perching on the branch of a neighbouring tree, and remaining undisturbed by shouts or cries, whilst the nest is being reached. At these times a kind of stupidity seizes the bird. It has, to my knowledge, on several occasions, remained in the nest till a boy has touched its feathers, and returned as soon as he left.

As a further illustration, I may add, that in one of the nests before mentioned, in Mark Ash (June 7th, 1862), was only one egg, which was taken. The birds, however, did not forsake, and another, which was also taken, was laid on the third day. Even then the birds did not desert, but after the interval of two more days laid a third egg, about one-half smaller than usual, and in shape somewhat resembling a peregrine's.

On another occasion, June 11th, 1859, a pair bred in a high beech in Coalmeer Wood, near Stoney Cross, and though fired at more than once did not desert. The female, however, was first shot, when the cock, nothing daunted, took his partner's place, and sat on the eggs, and in a day or two afterwards shared her fate. In the nest were two eggs, which, with the exception before mentioned, I have never known exceeded. Those in my collection vary in colouring from the light dull vermilion, which so often characterizes the merlin's eggs, to a deep rich morone, tinted, especially in newly-taken specimens, with a delicate crimson bloom.^[4]

A few words more. The birds are not much seen in the day, but generally early in the morning. Whilst the hen bird sits on the eggs, the cock perches close by in some tall thick tree. Perhaps from this very affection for their young arises their seeming stupidity, and the ease with which they are killed. Some years ago a keeper found a nest with two young birds in Bentley Wood, and on purpose to secure them tied them by their legs to a small tree, where the old birds regularly came and fed them. But the strangest fact with regard to their breeding is that before they finally decide upon a nest they will line several with green leaves and small leafy twigs. Lastly, I may add that though I have examined many nests, I have never found any traces of their being, as is related by some writers, lined with wool. If there was any wool it was probably placed there by the bird which had previously inhabited the nest.

The common buzzard (Falco buteo) is a resident all through the year in the Forest, and may now and then be seen towering high up in the air, so high that you would not at first notice him, unless you heard his wild scream. It is not, however, nearly so plentiful as formerly. He is a sad coward, and the common crow will not only attack, but defeat him. Once or twice I have seen their battles during the breeding season. The jays, and magpies, too, and even the pewits, will mob him, the latter striking at him almost like a falcon. Its favourite breeding-places are in the Denny and Bratley Woods, Sloden, Birchen Hat, Mark Ash, and Prior's Acre. Several nests are yearly taken, for the bird generally breeds when the bark-strippers are at work in April and May. A series of its eggs, in my collection, taken in the Forest, show every variety of colouring from nearly pure white to richly blotched specimens.

In the breeding-season the birds are excessively destructive. A boy who climbed up to a nest in the spring of 1860 told me that he found no less than two young rabbits, a grey hen, and two thrushes as provision for two nestlings. However, there is always some compensation, for in one which I examined were the skeletons of two snakes and a rat picked to the bone.

The accompanying vignette will, I trust, although the nests are so exactly alike, be of some interest. Whilst the artist was sketching the honey-buzzard's nest, the old bird, the first which I had noticed in 1862, made its appearance and circled round the tree, uttering its peculiar short shrill squeak. This nest, which had been repaired in the previous year, the dead beech-leaves still hanging on to the twigs, was between forty and fifty feet from the ground; whilst that of the common

buzzard, who, whilst sitting, had, a month before, been killed, was upwards of seventy feet, and placed on the very topmost boughs of a beech, on which tree was also the other.

But more important than even the nesting of the honey-buzzard is that of the merlin (Falco æsalon), which fact has never yet been, so far as I know, noticed as occurring in the New Forest. In the winter this little hawk is sometimes seen hunting, as it does in Ireland, the snipe, although but few specimens find their way to the bird-stuffer. It lingers on, however, to the summer, but the opportunities then of watching its habits are more rare, as the foliage of the woods is so thick. In 1859 and 1861 Mr. Farren received two nests with three eggs, taken in old pollard hollies growing in the open heath, which in every way corresponded with those of the merlin, being considerably smaller than those of kestrels. Unfortunately, however, he could not procure the parent birds, and the fact of the merlins' nesting remained doubtful. In 1862 he was at last successful, and on May 22nd discovered a nest, placed in the hole of a yew, also containing, like the others, three eggs, from which the male bird was shot. Both the bird and eggs are now in my collection, the latter being somewhat richer and darker in colour than those which I have received from the Orkney and Shetland islands. The important fact, however, to be noticed is that, as Temminck remarks, the birds in a woody country build in trees, whilst in the north of Britain, where there is no timber, they adapt themselves to the country, and lay on the ground.^[5]

The marsh and hen-harriers, too, frequent the moors and heaths of the Forest, especially the latter, locally known as the "blue hawks." Some few pairs of these breed here, and in 1859 a nest containing three young birds was found near Picket Post by a woodman, and another in 1862, with three eggs, on Beaulieu Heath. One of the Forest keepers described the fern for some distance round a nest, which he discovered, as completely trodden down by the young birds, and so littered with feathers and dirt that, to use his words, the place had exactly the appearance of a goose-pen. A woodman, too, who in 1860 was set to watch a pair near Ocknell, gave me an interesting account of his seeing the old birds breaking off the young tops of the fern to form their nest. I have never myself been fortunate enough in the Forest to find their nest, but I have often watched a pair on Black Knoll and Beaulieu Heath skimming over the ground, pausing to hover just above the furze, then flying forward for some ten or twenty yards, turning themselves suddenly sideways; and then again, for a minute, poising, kestrel-like, beating each bush, and every now and then going up a little higher in the air, but quickly coming down close over the cover.

Passing from the falcons, let us look at the owls, of which the Forest possesses four, if not more, varieties. The commonest is the tawny (Strix aluco), whose hooting fills the woods all through the winter. At Stoney Cross I have repeatedly heard, on a still November night, a pair of them calling to one another at least two miles apart. It not only breeds in holes of trees, but in old crows'-nests, and will often, when its eggs are taken, lay again within a week. The barn owl, strange to say, is not much more abundant than the long-eared (Strix otus), which breeds in the old holly-bushes, generally taking some magpie's nest, where it lays three eggs. Rarer still is the short-eared (Strix brachyotus), which visits the Forest in November, staying through the winter, and in the day-time rising out of the dry heath and withered fern.^[6]

Leaving the owls, let us notice some of the other birds. Many a time, in the cold days of March, have I seen the woodcocks, in the new oak plantations of Wootton, carrying their young under their wing, clutching them up in their large claws. Here, on the ground, they lay their eggs, which are of the same colour as the withered oak-leaves—a dull ochre, spotted and clouded with brown, and are thus easily overlooked. About the same time, or even earlier—in February—the raven will build, or rather used to, in the old woods round Burley. In 1858 the two last nests were taken, the eggs being somewhat smaller than those which I have received from the Orkneys. Another of its breeding stations was in Puckpits, where, however, it has not built for the last four seasons. Formerly the bird was common enough, as the different Ravensnest Woods still show; and old men in the Forest have told me, in direct opposition, however, to what Yarrell says,^[7] that when, as boys, taking its eggs, they were obliged to arm themselves with stones and sticks to drive off the parent birds, who fiercely defended their nests with their claws and bills. Now it is nearly extinct, though a pair may sometimes be seen wherever there is a dead horse or cow in the district.

Then, when the summer comes, and the woods are green and dark, the honey-buzzard skims round the tops of the trees; and the snipe, whose young have not yet left the swamps, goes circling high up in the air, "bleating," as the common people here call the noise of its wings, each time it descends in its waving, wandering flight; whilst out on the open spaces the whinchat, known throughout the Forest, from its cry, as the "furze hacker," jerks itself from one furze branch to another; and flitting along with it fly a pair of Dartford warblers.

And as, too, evening draws down, from the young green fern the goatsucker, the "night-crow" and the "night-hawk" of the district, springs up under your feet, and settles a few yards off, and then flies a little way farther, hoping to lead you from its white marble-veined eggs on the bare ground.

Such scenes can the Forest show to the ornithologist in spring and summer, nor is it less interesting to him in the winter. Here, as he wanders across some moor, flocks of fieldfares and missel-thrushes start out of the hollies, and the ring-ousel skulks off from the yew. A bittern, its neck encircled with a brown frill of feathers, is, perhaps, wading by the stream; and hark! from out of the sky comes the clanging of a wedge-shaped flock of grey-lag geese.

Instead of a chapter a volume might be written upon the ornithology of the New Forest, especially about the winter visitants—the flocks of pochards, and teal, and tufted-ducks, which darken the Avon, and the swans and geese which whiten the Solent. I have stood for hours on the beach at Calshot, and watched the faint cloud in the horizon gradually change into a mass of wings beating with one stroke, or marked string after string of wigeon come splashing down in the mid-channel. Little flocks of ring-dotterels and dunlins flit overhead, their white breasts flashing in the winter sun every time they wheeled round. The shag flies heavily along, close to the water, with his long outstretched neck, melancholy and slow, and the cry of the kittiwake sounds from the mud-flats.

To leave, however, the winter birds, and to pass on to more general observations, let me notice a curious fact about the tree-creeper (Certhia familiaris) in the southern parts of the Forest, Here there are large plantations of firs, and consequently but few holes in the trees. To make up for this deficiency, I have twice found the creeper's nest placed inside a squirrel's "cage," showing the same adaptability to circumstances which is met with in the whole animal creation. Here, too, in these thick firs build great numbers of jays; and I have, when climbing up to their nests, more than once seen a squirrel coming out with an egg in its claw or mouth. I should have been inclined to have doubted the fact had I not seen it. The sucked eggs which are so often found must, therefore, be attributed quite as much to the squirrel as the magpie or the jay, who have so long borne the guilt. Of course, too, from the great extent of wood we should expect to find the woodpeckers very plentiful. The common woodpecker, known as the "yaffingale" and "woodnacker," is to be seen darting down every glade. The greater-spotted (Picus major) is not unfrequent, and the lesser-spotted (Picus minor) in the spring comes out of the woods and frequents the orchards of Burley and Alum Green, boring its hole in the dead boughs.

And here let me notice the tenacity with which the greater-spotted woodpecker, whose nesting habits are not elsewhere in England so well observable, clings to its breeding-place; for I have known it, when its eggs have been taken, to lay again in the same hole, the eggs being, however, smaller. Mr. Farren tells me that he has observed the same fact, which is curious, as its ally, the green woodpecker, is so easily driven away, by even a common starling.

The presence of the great black woodpecker (Picus martius) has long been suspected, especially since a specimen has been killed in the Isle of Wight, and a pair have been seen near Christchurch.^[8] Mr. Farren, in 1862, was fortunate enough not only to see the bird, but to discover its nest. On the ninth of June, whilst in Pignel Wood, near Brockenhurst, he observed the hen bird fly out of a hole placed about six feet high in a small oak, from which he had earlier in the season taken a green woodpecker's nest. Hiding himself in the bush-wood, he saw, after waiting about half an hour, the hen return, and had no doubts as to its identity. An endeavour, however, to secure her in the hole, with the butterfly-net which he had with him, was unsuccessful. He was afraid to leave the eggs, as some woodmen were working close by, and so lost any other opportunity of making the capture. The eggs, now in my collection, were four in number, one being slightly addled, and are the only specimens ever taken in England. They were laid on the bare rotten wood, the bird finding the hole sufficiently large, as Mr. Farren had widened it when taking the previous eggs. It is, however, remarkable that such a shy bird should have built in such a scattered and thin wood as Pignel, close to a public thoroughfare, and where the woodmen had for some time past been constantly felling timber.

But what gives the Forest so much of its character is the number of herons who have lately established themselves in various parts. You can scarcely go along a stream-side without surprising some one or two, which, as you approach, flap their large slate-coloured wings, and fly off with a rolling, heavy motion, circling in the air as they go. Down at Exbury, at the mouth of the Beaulieu river, they may be seen in companies of threes and fours, wading in the shallows, probing their long bills into the mud and sand; and then, as the tide comes up, making off to the freshwater ponds. They are, however, I am afraid, rather persecuted, as they never long here remain at one breeding station. They first took up their abode in Old Burley Wood, and then removed to Wood Fidley, and subsequently to Denney, and finally to Vinney Ridge. In 1861, fifty pair, at least, must have built in its tall beeches. On a fine early spring morning, a long grey line of them would perch on the neighbouring green of Dame Slough, picking up the twigs of heather and flying off with them to line their great platforms of nests; and then sailing down to the Blackwater stream, in the "bottom" close by, to fish. In the morning and evening, and, in fact, all through the day, one incessant clamour was going on, and under the trees lay great eels, which had fallen from their nests.

Last year the numbers were greatly decreased, the birds having been, perhaps, driven away by the woodcutters and charcoal-burners employed to cut down the surrounding timber. The sketch which stands at the head of this chapter was taken in June—too late in the year to show any of the nests, but several young birds were still hovering round who had not even then quite quitted. A small colony has, too, established itself at Boldrewood, where I trust it will be protected; for few birds possess so much character, and give so much beauty to the landscape.

Before we conclude, let us glance at some other peculiarities of the Forest district, and its effects on its birds. It is not too far westward for the east winds to bring the hoopoe, so common in Sussex. Throughout the summer of 1861, a pair were constantly flying about and hopping on the "Lawn" near Wilverley Forest Lodge. The black redstart (Sylvia tithys) and the fire-crest (Regains ignicapillus) just skim its borders in their westerly winter migrations. Small flocks of dotterel make it their halting spot for a few days in spring, on their way to their northern breeding-places. In the winter, its mildness brings numbers of siskins, some few bramblings, and the common and even the parrot crossbill, escaping from the frosts of the north.

Other things may be mentioned. The hawfinches do not stay all the year round, as might be expected, or, at least, only one or two pairs, simply because there are no hornbeams in the Forest, nor gardens to tempt them with their fruits. The chough, too, is seldom seen, its eggs and young being plundered in the Isle of Wight cliffs and the Lulworth rocks. It is now extinct in Sussex, and will soon be in the New Forest. Yet these birds were once so numerous in England, not only damaging the crops, but unthatching the barns and houses, that a special Act of Parliament was passed against them.^[9] Twopence for a dozen heads were given. People were, under various penalties, bound to destroy them, and parishes were ordered to keep chough and crow nets in repair.

There is, unfortunately, no other forest in England by which we can make comparisons with the ornithology of the New Forest. In Churchill Babington's excellent synopsis of the birds of Charnwood Forest, we find only one hundred and twenty-five species, but little more than one-half of those in the New Forest. Out of the three hundred and fifty-four British birds the New Forest possesses seventy-two residents, whilst it has had no less than two hundred and thirty killed or observed within its boundaries.^[10] With this we must end. I am afraid it is too late to protest against the slaughter of our few remaining birds of prey. The eagle and kite are, to all purpose, extinct, in England, and the peregrine and honey-buzzard will soon share their fate. The sight of a large bird now calls out all the raffish guns of a country-side. Ornithologists have, however, themselves to thank. With some honourable exceptions, I know no one so greedy as a true ornithologist. The botanist does not uproot every new flower which he discovers, but—for he loves them too well—carefully spares some plants to grow and increase; whilst few ornithologists rest content till they see the specimen safe in their cabinets. This, I suppose, must be, from the nature of the study, the case. Still, however, the love for Nature, and the enthusiasm which it gives, must be regarded as a far greater offset. And here let me, for the last time, say that I feel sure that nobody knows anything of the true charms of the country who is ignorant of natural history. With the slightest love and knowledge of it, then every leaf is full of meaning, every pebble a history, every torn branch, gilded with lichens, and silvered with mosses, has its wonders to tell; and you will find life in the dust, and beauty in the commonest weed.

(Click to enlarge)

Footnotes

1. The Forest would afford a good field for deciding the controversy as to whether our tame pigs are descended from the European Wild Boar. (See Proceedings of the Zoological Society, 1861, p. 264; and Annals and Magazine of Natural History, Third Series, vol. ix. p. 415.) Certain it is that here are some breeds distinct in their markings. I must not, too, forget to mention Coronella lævis (Boie), which is found in the Forest, as also in Dorsetshire and Kent. This is the Coronella austriaca of Laurenti, and afterwards the Coluber lævis of Lacépede. It might be mistaken for the common viper (Pelias berus), but differs in not being venomous, as also from the ringed snake (Natrix torquata) in having a fang at the hinder extremity of its jaws, the peculiarity of the genus Coronella. It feeds on lizards, which its fang enables it to hold; drinks a great deal of water; and Dr. Glinther, of the British Museum, to whom I am indebted for the above information, tells me that it crawls up the furze and low bushes to lick the rain off the leaves. For a list of the Lepidoptera of the New Forest see Appendix IV.
2. Vol. i p. 26
3. Illustrations of the Eggs of British Birds, by W. C. Hewitson, vol. i. p. 27.
4. As so few opportunities occur of weighing the eggs of the honey-buzzard and hobby, the following notes, most carefully made by Mr. Rake and myself, may not be without interest:—
   Honey-buzzard's nest, taken June 16th, in a low fork of an oak-tree in Anses Wood, contained two fresh-laid eggs:—

   First egg (apothecaries' weight)	1oz. 3dr. 1sc. 5gr.
   Second egg (very slightly dinted)	1oz. 2dr. 2sc. 10gr.

   Honey-buzzard's nest, taken June 24th, in Ravensnest Wood, near Brook, in the higher branches of a tall beech, overhanging the road. This nest had been deserted, and the two eggs were very much addled and hard set:—

   First egg	1oz. 4dr. 0sc. 10gr.
   Second egg	1oz. 3dr. 2sc. 10gr.

   Hobby's nest, placed in a nest which, in 1861, had been occupied by a honey-buzzard, was taken in Prior's Acre, June 21st, and contained three fresh-laid eggs, now in Mr. Rake's cabinet:—

   First egg	6dr. 0sc. 0gr.
   Second egg	5dr. 2sc. 10gr.
   Third egg (very slightly dinted)	5dr. 2sc. 0gr.

   Hobby's nest, taken in South Bentley Wood, July 12, contained two eggs hard sat upon and addled:—

   First egg	5dr. 2sc. 15gr.
   Second egg (cracked)	5dr. 0sc. 14gr.

   With these weights may be compared the following:—Egg, supposed to be that of a merlin, taken with two others which were broken, June 17th, 1862, near Alum Green, in the hole of a beech, rather sat upon, weighed 4dr. 1sc. 10gr. Two fresh-laid eggs of kestrels, taken at the same time, weighed 4d. 2sc. 15gr. Other eggs of kestrels, however, have weighed considerably more; and two others, also laid about the same time, came to 5dr. 5gr.

5. As the instances of the breeding of the merlin, especially under these circumstances, will always be very rare, I may as well add my own personal observations. In the spring of 1861 I received three eggs taken not far from the Knyghtwood Oak, and said to have been found in the hole of a beech. As I am not in the habit of paying any attention to the mere stories which are so plentiful, I did not, therefore, examine them with any attention, and put them aside as merely kestrel's. After, however, Mr. Farren's communication to me, I looked out particularly for this little hawk, but only once saw it in the open ground, near Warwickslade Cutting, from whence it flew up, perching for a moment on a holly, and then making off to the woods. On June 4th, however, I observed a hen bird fly out of a hole, about twenty feet from the ground, in an old beech in Woolstone's Hill, on the east side of Haliday's Hill Enclosure. There were, however, no eggs. On the 5th I went again, and the bird, when I was about fifty yards from the tree, again flew off. Still, there were no eggs. I did not return till the 9th, when the nest, now pulled out of the hole, had been robbed. It was made of small sticks, and a considerable quantity of feather-moss, and some fine grass, and in general character resembled the nests of the bird found by Mr. Hewitson in Norway. In the holes were the bones of young rabbits, but these had, from their bleached appearance, been brought by a brown owl, who had reared her brood there in the previous summer. I afterwards learnt where the three eggs had been taken in 1861; but there was nothing, with the exception of a few sticks, in the hole, which was in this case about ten feet from the ground, and placed also in a beech on the edge of Barrowsmoor. Great caution, however, must be exercised regarding the merlin's eggs; for I am inclined to think that the kestrel, contrary to its usual practice, sometimes also breeds in the Forest in the holes of trees. The egg mentioned at p. 264, foot-note, brought to me on June 17th, 1862, I have every reason to believe is a merlin's, but could not quite satisfy myself as to the evidence.
6. For some account of the little owl (Strix passerina), see Appendix III. under the section of Stragglers, p. 314.
7. Vol. ii. p. 57.
8. Yarrell, vol. ii. p. 139.
9. Passed in the twenty-fourth year of Henry VIII., 1532. Statutes of the Realm, vol. iii., p. 425, 426. It should, however, be remembered that under the term chough was in former times included the whole of the Corvidæ. Shakspeare's "russet-pated choughs" are evidently jackdaws.
10. In Appendix III. is given a list of all the birds hitherto observed in the New Forest District, as also more special information, which I thought would not interest the general reader.