the intervening hills, a few feet above the trees: but when the sky is calm and clear, they pass through the heavens at a great height, in regular and easy flight."

This custom of the Rooks is the more curious because it is hardly possible to conceive any roosting-place which would be more acceptable to a sensible bird than the woods within the confines of Walton Hall. As has already been mentioned, the birds will occasionally rest for a while in those pleasant woods, though they ultimately take wing for the accustomed roostingplace. There is plenty of space for them; they have their choice of trees on which to settle, and the lofty wall which surrounds them ensures their freedom from all disturbance.

VERY similar in general aspect to the rook, the CROW (Corvus corone) builds a nest which resembles that of the rook in outward form, but is easily distinguished by an experienced eye. The lining of the nest is made of animal instead of vegetable substances, hair and wool taking the place of fibrous roots.

Viewed from the foot of the tree, the nest of the Crow is nothing but a large and nearly shapeless bundle of sticks, but when the enterprising naturalist has climbed to the summit of the tree in which it is placed, and can look into the nest, he is always gratified by the peculiarly neat and smooth workmanship of the aerial home. The outside of the nest is rough and rugged enough, but the inner nest, which is made of rabbit's-fur, wool, and hair, is woven into a basin-like form, beautifully smooth, soft, and elastic. On this bed repose the eggs, which are somewhat like those of the rook, but darker and greener, and more thickly spotted, though they are extremely variable in size and colour, and sometimes resemble so closely those of the rook that the distinction can hardly be detected.

The Crow always builds at the tops of trees, and has a wonderful knack of choosing those which are most difficult of ascent. The nests are plentiful enough, but the proportion of eggs taken is very small in comparison. There are some nests which baffle almost any one to rob successfully. An experienced nest-hunter is always endowed with a strong head, and ought to be perfectly at his ease on the summit of the loftiest trees, even though he should be obliged to crawl in fly-fashion under a branch, to hang by one hand while he takes the eggs with the other, or to

suspend himself by his legs in order to get at a nest below him That a nest should escape a properly qualified hunter is simply impossible, but to secure the eggs is quite another matter.

In many cases the nest of the Crow is placed on branches so long and so slender that they will not endure the weight of a small boy, much less of a man, and the only method of getting at it is by bending down the branches. But, when the branches are bent, the nest is tilted over, and out fall the eggs, so that the disappointed hunter loses all his time and trouble.

Possibly this extreme caution may be the result of sad experience, for, although the generality of Crows' nests are placed in the most inaccessible positions, I have seen and taken many which were so easy of attainment that in a very few minutes I had ascended the tree and returned with the eggs. There are generally four or five eggs, although in some exceptional cases six eggs are said to be laid in a single nest. I never saw more than five, though I have examined very many nests. High as the nest of a Crow may be, it is always worthy of an ascent, for, even should it be an old nest and deserted by the original inhabitant, there is always a possibility that it may have been usurped by some hawk, whose beautiful eggs are always considered as prizes.

THERE is a splendid British bird, which is becoming scarcer almost yearly, which makes a nest something like that of the crow and rook, but much larger. This is the HERON (Ardea cinerea), one of the very few large birds which still linger among us.

On account of its own great size, the Heron makes a very large and very conspicuous nest, built chiefly of sticks and twigs, and placed on the summit of a tree.

Like the rook, the Heron is gregarious in its nesting, so that a solitary Heron's nest is very seldom seen, though now and then an exception to the general rule is discovered. To watch the manners and customs of this bird is not a very easy task, because the number of heronries in England is very small, and the shy nature of the birds renders them difficult of approach. At Walton Hall, however, the Herons are so fearless, through long-continued impunity, that they will allow themselves to be

watched closely, provided that the observer is quiet, and does not make a noise, or alarm the birds by abrupt movements.

It is a very pretty sight to watch the great birds as they go to and from their nests, bringing food to their young, or flying to the lake in search of more fish. Numbers of the Heron may be seen at the water's edge, sometimes standing on one foot, with their long necks completely hidden, and their bayonet-like beaks projecting from their shoulders. For hours the birds will retain this attitude, which to a human being would be the essence of discomfort, and it is really wonderful how they can keep up for so long a time the muscular energy which is expended in holding up the spare leg and keeping it tucked under their belly.

Now and then, one of the Herons seems to wake up, and after a stretch of the neck and a flap of the wings, walks statelily and deliberately into the water, through which it stalks, examining every inch of bank and every cluster of weeds as it passes along. Presently the bird pauses, and remains quite still for some time, when the long neck is suddenly darted forwards, the beak disappears for a second among the reeds, and presently emerges, with a fish, frog, or water-rat in its gripe. The real beauty of the Heron can never be appreciated until it is seen at liberty, and in the enjoyment of its natural life. It suits the locality so well that, when it flies away, the spot has lost somewhat of its charms. As it stands in the water, intent upon catching prey, the drooping feathers of its breast wave gracefully in the breeze, and the ripples of the sunlit water are reflected in mimic waves upon its grey plumed wings.

Generally it cares little for exerting itself until towards the evening, but then it becomes impatient and restless, and is not quieted until it has obtained some food.

Some anglers have an idea that the Heron is one of the birds that ought to be ranked as "vermin," thinking that it destroys so many fish, that it ruins an angler's sport. Consequently, they kill the bird whenever they can manage to do so, and flatter themselves that they are doing good service in preserving the breed of fish. Now, even were the entire diet of the Heron to consist of fish, the bird would really do but little harm, because it can only take food in shallow water, and is seldom to be seen more than a yard or two from the bank. But the diet of the Heron is by no means exclusively of a fishy nature, inasmuch as

the bird eats plenty of frogs and newts, and will often secure a water-rat even when fully grown. It is seldom that fish which are of any value to the angler come into water in which the Heron could catch them, and even if they did so, their size would prevent the bird from taking them.

At Walton Hall, where the Herons breed largely, and where they procure nearly all the food for themselves and young out of the lake, there is no lack of fish, as may be practically proved by any one who is permitted to cast a line into the water. I am. a very poor fisherman, and yet I never found any difficulty in taking in the course of the morning quite as many fish as could easily be carried home.

So far indeed is the Heron from injuring the interests of the angler, that it is a positive benefactor. Mr. Waterton, who was obliged by the continual burrowing of water-rats to drain and fill up a series of large ponds, makes the following remarks on the bird:-"Had I known then as much as I do now of the valuable services of the Heron, and had there been a good heronry near the place, I should not have made the change. The draining of the ponds did not seem to lessen the number of rats in the brook; but soon after the Herons had settled here to breed, the rats became exceedingly scarce, and now I rarely see one in the place where formerly I could observe numbers sitting on the stones at the mouth of their holes, as soon as the sun had below the horizon."

gone

When the Heron flies to its nest from any great distance, it generally ascends to a considerable height, and is in the habit of uttering a curious and very harsh cry, which at once tells the naturalist that a Heron is on the wing. When a Heron passes immediately over the observer, the effect is very remarkable, the long, stretched-out legs and neck and slender body looking like a large knitting-needle supported on enormous wings.

To see the Heron alight on its nest or on a branch is rather a curious sight. The bird descends, drops its long legs, places its feet on the branch, and then flaps its huge wings as if to get its balance before it settles down. The rustics have an idea that a Heron is obliged to allow its legs to dangle on either side of the nest while it sits on its eggs, and some will aver that a hole is made in the nest through which the legs can be thrust. It is scarcely necessary to say that the construction of a bird's legs

prevents it from assuming such an attitude, and that the long Heron can sit as easily upon its pale green eggs as the shortlimbed domestic fowl on her white eggs.

SOME of our common British birds build nests that can vie, in point of beauty and delicacy, with any nest made by birds of other lands. It is scarcely possible to conceive a nest which is more worthy of admiration than that of the Long-tailed Titmouse, which has already been described; and in their own way, the

houses erected by the Chaffinch and Goldfinch are quite as beautiful. As there are some points of similarity in the two nests, they will be mentioned in connexion with each other.

First, we will take the nest of the CHAFFINCH (Fringilla calebs).