The Zoologist/3rd series, vol 1 (1877)/Issue 4/Ornithological notes from Beverley

by Frederick Boyes

 

ORNITHOLOGICAL NOTES FROM BEVERLEY.

By Frederick Boyes.

 

A remarkably cold and backward spring, with a long continuance of easterly winds, may account for the non-arrival in 1876 of at least one summer migrant and the appearance in diminished numbers of some others. But whilst it deprived us of these, it appeared so to check the northward migration of our winter birds that, in one or two instances, they found it convenient to remain and breed with us. To this cause, at least, I attribute the breeding of the Hooded Crow, Spotted Crake, and some other birds in this neighbourhood in the summer of 1876.

Although I cannot say that we had any remarkable feature worth especial mention, we had nevertheless some very interesting occurrences which were unusual and new to me. These were the breeding of the Redshank in three or four different localities; the nesting of the Red-backed Shrike, and that of the Spotted Crake, which latter fact, though not absolutely established, is so far proved that I think there is no doubt about it.

My notices of the arrival of our spring migrants are very incomplete, owing partly to the very cold weather, which prevented them giving their well-known notes, and partly to their great irregularity in arrival, so much so that in many cases I gave up looking for them. I do not at any time attach much importance to these records, as it is manifest that at best they are very unreliable. A single bird may arrive in the neighbourhood and go unnoticed for weeks unless some one who knows it discovers it. Again, I may put down the date of my first hearing or seeing a certain bird here, whereas it may have appeared a fortnight earlier a few miles away. So, too, some birds do not make their presence known immediately on their first arrival. The Corn Crake is one of these, and it generally remains mute until sufficient shelter is afforded it: this is proved by finding them with pointers or setters when none have been heard thereabouts, or perhaps not at all that season.

On February 10th I saw, in the snow on the river-side, the footprints of a Bittern. It had walked to several places where the sedges were highest, evidently looking for a place of concealment, but the shelter apparently had not been sufficient, for it had then walked back to the water-side and taken wing. Two of these birds were seen several times during the winter at a private piece of water here, where the owner always preserves them: I am told that one or more are seen there almost every winter.

The dreadful storm of thunder and lightning we had early in March, accompanied by a deluge of rain, caused the river again to overflow its banks, and once more all our low-lying "carrs" were under water for many miles. In consequence of this, vast numbers of Peewits, which annually breed in these low grounds were driven away from their breeding haunts, and the eggs of such as had laid were of course destroyed. These low grounds called "carrs" lie adjacent to the river stretching beyond Beverley northward almost to Driffield, a distance of about twelve miles, and are liable to be submerged at any moment by the bursting of the river-banks. In former times the river annually overflowed, and all the adjoining land below a certain level became swamp and bog, and in many places open water. Indeed, up to the beginning of the present century there was no means of getting the water away. Many hundreds of ducks used to be taken here in decoys, and even now no sooner do the fields get submerged than they are at once frequented by great numbers of wild-fowl.

About the 11th of April, when the water in the "carrs" had partly subsided, a Ruff and three Reeves were seen, and the Ruff and one of the Reeves shot. The male bird was in transitional plumage, just acquiring a beautiful glossy black ruff, and a few warts were appearing near the base of the bill; the frill, so far as it had been assumed, was composed entirely of new feathers.

During the summer of 1876 the Nightingale was absent from East Yorkshire. Considering, however, that we are on the extreme, northern limit of its range, it is not surprising that it should fail to reach us in such a miserably cold and backward spring as that of 1876.

A female Hawfinch, with considerably developed eggs in the ovary, and which had been previously shot at and wounded, was picked up alive on May 7th on Westwood Common, where—as I have already mentioned (2nd ser. p. 4763)—two nests were taken last year. It appears they have again returned to the same place to breed. I afterwards made a search and found three nests, two apparently those of last year, and the third barely finished. At the last-named the old bird no doubt was at work, for it made a great outcry when I went near it. I thought it looked scarcely completed, but knowing what a flimsy and unfinished kind of nest this bird makes, I climbed up to it, and must have been seen, for it was afterwards forsaken.

On the same day a Black Tern and a Common Tern were shot on our river; and I may here mention that it is a common practice for people to go up the river in a boat on Sundays, and shoot anything and everything, whether protected by the Sea-birds' Protection or any other Act.

On the 10th May I saw a beautifully-plumaged Oystercatcher on the river-side: this is the first time I ever saw or heard of one here. The following day I heard a Ring Ouzel singing, and saw a large flock of Fieldfares. The 11th May seems a late date at which to find the last-named birds here, but they remained with us this year until May 19th.

For upwards of sixty years a pair of Missel Thrushes have nested in our garden, with scarcely an exception. This spring the old gardener came to me, with a mournful look, and said he was afraid something was going to happen, as he had not noticed them about as usual; but when I pointed out to him the old bird sitting on her nest high up in a pear tree, his face brightened up, and he said, "Hey! well, that's all right! I am glad." So much for superstition. Last year they built in a tree overhanging the middle walk, and the old bird flew off every time anyone went near. I was surprised at the length of time she remained away from the nest, and fully expected the eggs would be addled, but she hatched off safely. This year she sat so close that, for so shy a bird, I could not have credited it had I not been a witness of it. She would allow me to fire off my gun beneath the tree without quitting the nest. I had been constantly shooting Sparrows for some time before I noticed this. Twice these Missel Thrushes have reared two broods in the same nest. There are three or four trees in which they invariably build, but very seldom nest two years in the same tree. Only one pair returns each year.

A male Shoveller and a male Teal were seen on the river on May 21st, which looked as if the ducks of each species were sitting somewhere in the neighbourhood.

In the "carrs" near the river, about six miles from Beverley, two pairs of Redshanks were nesting, for the first time, to my knowledge, on May 24th. No doubt the swampy nature of the ground from the recent floods had invited them to remain. The actions of these birds were very interesting and new to me. They toyed about a long time and were very noisy; one of them alighted on some posts and rails near me, whistling and making a chatting noise like the word "chick, chick, chick, chick," repeated any number of times. Presently it rose on the wing and flew a little way, gave a few very rapid vibrations of its wings, then held them pointed downwards in a peculiar manner, reminding one of the Common Sandpiper as it skims along a drain, or a butterfly that has been nipped the wrong way in the net. Every now and again it would return and go through the same performances. A Dunlin in full summer plumage, on the river the same day, was probably on its way to its breeding haunts.

On May 27th four young Redshanks, a few days old, were found, and I regret to say the old female, after five or six unsuccessful shots, was killed, on one of our commons called Swinemoor. This common lies very low, and was once a swampy morass where the Bittern and Redshank held their sway: it is now drained and made into a pasture for cattle and a so-called "recreation ground" for the people. [We regret to learn that the Wild Birds Protection Act is not more respected there. A momentary consideration ought to convince the shooter that a nesting bird is as useless for the table as, from its ragged state of plumage at this season, it must be to the collector.—Ed.]

The Red-backed Shrike is a very rare bird here, and I cannot hear that one has been seen for fifteen years. On May 27th a hen bird of this species was shot, and the following day a pair were obtained. A circumstance occurred in connection with the capture of these birds that is perhaps worth mentioning. It appears the male and female were both sitting on a dead branch near each other when the female was shot. The person who shot it repaired to the same place early the following day to shoot the male, when he found a second female: this he shot, and later in the day he shot the male. Is it possible that the male had two wives? It is scarcely reasonable to suppose that he could have picked up another mate in so short a time in a part of the country where these birds are so rare. I ought to mention that the first female was laying, and had an egg fully developed in the ovary. A search was afterwards made, and the old nest containing one egg found near the spot where all the three birds were shot. The second female was a younger bird, and showed no signs of breeding, the eggs in the ovary being very small. The stomachs of these birds contained nothing but humble-bees, the largest and commonest kind, with the yellow bands on the abdomen. [What a thousand pities that these inoffensive birds should have been shot, especially since they are stated to be so rare in the neighbourhood.—Ed.]

I think I may safely say that the Spotted Crake nested on the margin of our river in May, 1876. I have never before heard them in the summer, though we generally have plenty in the autumn. The males begin to call at dusk, like Corn Crakes or Quails, only the note is very different, and may be imitated by pronouncing quickly the words "gluck, gluck"^[1] every three or four seconds. They were calling loudly on May 27th, and continued to do so for some weeks, almost always in the same places. I sought diligently for a nest, but from the large amount of shelter afforded by the sedges at this time of year, I was not able to find it.

On June 5th a Nightjar was sitting on two eggs. I have seen several of these birds sitting on their eggs here in the open moory ground, and it is by no means a fact that they always turn their heads away from the sun. [From our own observations we can confirm this. No bird is fonder of basking in the warm sunshine than the Nightjar. We have found it sitting on the shingle at the seaside, where the stones were so hot with the noonday sun that the hand could scarcely bear the contact.—Ed.]

During the month of October last we had an immense number of wild geese in this neighbourhood, more than have been known for a very long time. I think they were attracted by the quantity of food, for in consequence of the long continuance of wet weather many of the wold farmers were unable to gather the rakings of the stubble, and these formed an abundance of food for the wild geese, which at early dawn arrived in hundreds. On the 15th of that month a very fine female Rough-legged Buzzard was shot at Holderness. On the 21st another was shot: it had been seen in company with the one killed on the 15th: this bird unluckily fell into the Humber, and the tide going out it was lost. On the 18th November a third was killed at Hull.

A Shore Lark was shot at Spurn on October 21st, and an immature male Longtailed Duck on November 8th. On the 22nd of that month another Longtailed Duck was shot, a female, and on December 8th a third. These were obtained on the same piece of water where I had seen a small flock on September 29th.

On the 22nd November a fine male Osprey was brought for my inspection by Mr. D. Burton, of Cherry Burton, a village three miles west of Beverley: it had been shot the previous day by one of that gentleman's keepers just in front of the Hall. I may say that it was a most unlikely place for such a bird, as there is no water in the immediate neighbourhood. Probably it was passing over on its southward journey, or it may have got lost during the thick weather which prevailed about that time. Why it did not soar high enough to keep out of gunshot I cannot tell. I dissected it, and found it in very good condition, although not fat. The stomach was empty, except a piece of stick and some dead grass—foreign substances, swallowed, no doubt accidentally, with its natural food. This is the bird mentioned by Mr. Cordeaux as shot on the 23rd November, which is the wrong date, as I had word sent to me by the keeper the very day of its capture, and the bird was in my hands the following morning.

During the last week of November large flocks of Wood Pigeons (Ring Doves) passed over the town of Beverley, the wind at the time being westerly. These birds may generally be seen flying over this district during strong westerly gales, and invariably fly against the wind.

An old male Rednecked Grebe shot on our river on December 5th still retained some of the red on the throat.

There was a very large advent of wild-fowl in the Humber on Christmas Day. My informant, who is a capital shot, and has lived on the Humber-side all his life, said he never remembered to have seen so many geese and ducks in the Humber in all his experience, and I am certain no one could be better qualified to give an opinion. Amongst the slain on this side of the Humber were three Bernicle Geese: they were shot by a young farmer, a son of the person above referred to.

 

 

1. see Boyes, F. (1877). "Correction of an Error". The Zoologist. 3 1 (issue 6, June—section 'Occasional Notes'): 260.  (Wikisource-Ed.)