Among the Birds in Northern Shires
Returning now to the rivers of our northern shires, we will briefly glance at one or two birds that are specially associated with such water-ways. Here in Yorkshire, Dipper, Gray Wagtail, and Heron may perhaps be the most familiar birds, but to our mind the Kingfisher is the most distinguished, and from some points of view the most interesting. We always think a special charm attaches to birds that have a place in ancient history, or that are surrounded by more or less classic legends and superstitions. The Kingfisher is one of these. From the very earliest times of which we possess any record, the bird, for some reason that to the modern mind does not seem always very clear, has figured largely in myth and superstition. Some of these are by no means wanting in poetic imagination. Legend, for instance, accounts for the beautiful colour of its plumage in the following amusing way: When the Kingfisher was liberated from the Ark it was a plain gray-plumaged bird, but flying towards the sun it became of the same hue as the sky on its upper parts, whilst its lower parts were scorched by the solar rays to the chestnut tint they now are. Fable is also curiously associated with the domestic arrangements of the Kingfisher, mid-winter being given as the date of its reproduction. Ovid tells us that during this period Æolus, the god of wind, exerted his influence, so that the tempests were quieted and the sea remained calm, upon which the floating nest might remain in safety for the seven Halcyon Days. As old Shakespeare has it:
"This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise:Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days".– Henry V.We also find under the term Halcyon (another name for the Kingfisher) in Minsben’s Dictionary the following quaint passage bearing on this fable: “A bird called also Kingfisher, because she fisheth in the sea, and casteth herself with such force at the fishes. She conceiveth in the sea, and in it she brings forth her young – and that in chill and cold weather; and meanwhile the heaven is serene, and the sea tranquil, nor agitated by troubles of winds. Hence those serene days are called Halcyon-days.” Superstition attributed to the Kingfisher not a few virtues. For instance, Lupton, three hundred odd years ago, in a book entitled A Thousand Notable Things, &c., writes: “A little bird called the King’s fisher, being hanged up in the air by the neck, his neb or bill will be always direct or straight against the wind. This was told me for a very truth by one that knew it by proof, as he said.” Possibly the superstition widely prevailed at that remote date, as four years later Storer, in his Life and Death of Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal, gives it thus:
"As a Halcyon with her turning breastDemonstrates wind from wind, and east from west".Marlowe (Jew of Malta, i. 1) has another rendering of the superstition, thus:
"But now how stands the wind?Into what corner peers my Halcyon’s bill?Ha! To the East? Yes! See, how stand the vanes?East and by south."It is interesting to remark that the quaint old superstition is not quite dead, even at the close of the nineteenth century! We have on more than one occasion come across country people in Yorkshire and Derbyshire who have assured us that the dead body of the Kingfisher, if hung up by a thread, will turn its beak in the direction of the wind then prevailing. Mummified Kingfishers were also believed to be a charm against thunderbolts, and also a preservative against clothes-moths. Professor Newton informs us in his Dictionary of Birds that in many islands of the Pacific Ocean the indigenous Kingfisher (of various species) is an object of much veneration.
Surely after these few extracts from some of the many legends in which the Kingfisher is involved the gem-like bird acquires a greater interest as we watch it passing like a gleam of blue light along the river. Even in our own day there is not a little fiction and absurdity gathered round the nesting habits of the Kingfisher. We are told that the bird is careful to make a nest of fish-bones for its eggs; this is a widely prevailing idea among persons who should know better, such as keepers, fishermen, and bird-nesting boys, for their experience is generally personal. Perhaps appearances have fostered, if they have not absolutely originated this belief. The Kingfisher pairs for life, and returns in most cases to the same place to nest season after season. This nest is usually in a hole, in many cases in a steep bank overhanging the river, and generally excavated by the birds themselves. Very often, however, a rat’s hole will be selected and various trifling alterations made to suit the new tenant. The hole almost invariably slopes upwards from the entrance, and is from three to four feet in length, enlarged at the end into a kind of chamber. The birds, it should be remarked, resort to this hole to roost, and frequent it generally long before the eggs are laid, so that a collection of bones, decaying fish, and droppings accumulates in the chamber. Upon these fish-bones the six or eight pearly-white eggs are deposited, surrounded in course of time by a heap of most offensive matter. When the young are hatched the place becomes even more filthy, owing to the increased amount of droppings and the number of fish brought for their food. We are not aware that more than one brood is reared in the season, although several clutches of eggs will be laid in the efforts to accomplish this, if the eggs chance to be destroyed. Not a few persons believe the Kingfisher to be mute; but this is not the case. Its note is shrill, but not very loud, and resembles the word peep, sometimes uttered several times in quick succession. It is not, however, by any means a garrulous bird, and usually flies along in silence. By the way, we might mention that the Kingfisher is by no means the only bird of gay plumage that as it were fouls its own nest, for the Hoopoe, a handsome bird with a wonderful crest, possesses a nest which, during the course of incubation, is rendered filthy and obnoxious from the droppings of the female, conditions which become worse when the young are hatched. How different this from the cleanly habits of the Starling, for instance, that conveys the droppings of its young away most carefully, usually after every visit with food.
As many of the rivers of the northern shires approach the sea they widen into estuaries, the shores of which are the resort of a great variety of bird-life. The Humber and the Tyne on the east coast, the Solway, the Lune, the Ribble, and the Mersey on the west coast of England are capital instances of such. The mud-flats up to tidal limits, often extending many miles inland, are favourite feeding-places of large numbers of wading birds, not only during the two seasons of migration, but throughout the winter months. In summer these places are more or less uninviting; the birds are scattered far and wide, not only over our own uplands and inland waters, but beyond the seas on arctic tundras; in early autumn the birds appear again in small numbers, and as that season advances become increasingly numerous. When these birds of mud-flat and sand-bank depart, little else is left but an occasional Gull, or possibly a laggard wading bird or two that from some reason or another have not migrated with their companions. We might, however, mention that in or near the beds of some of these northern rivers the Ringed Plover breeds. In spring and autumn companies of Terns hang about these estuaries; the Sandwich, Common, Arctic, and Lesser Terns appear from the middle of April onwards; their return is noticed during August and the first half of September. These dates are nearly coincident with those at which we notice these birds in the Devonshire estuaries, save that in autumn the migration continues into October, and during some years is even prolonged into November. Sanderlings, Curlew Sandpipers, and Knots, birds that migrate amongst the latest in spring and breed in the high north, are some of the first to reappear in autumn, even at the end of July or early in August. Common Sandpipers, as their name suggests, are abundant during their short stay at the mouths of these northern rivers previous to passing south. In the Humber district especially, vast flights of Dunlins often appear upon the mud-flats towards the end of August, and remain for the winter. When the rising tide drives them from the muds, they often resort to the fields to wait until the ebb. The movements of these birds are most interesting, as a vast flock wheels and spreads out or closes up with as much precision as drilled troops. Scattered amongst them are many odd Stints and Sanderlings and Ringed Plovers. Curlews, Whimbrels, and Bar-tailed Godwits also appear about these estuaries during migration time, and some of them remain upon them throughout the winter. At the latter season Ducks of various species are regular visitors. Some of these, however, keep well off the land out at sea, only entering the river mouths during rough weather, or at night for the purpose of feeding in the shallower water. One of the most familiar, perhaps, is the Scaup; the Pochard is another, with a much more marked preference for rivers; the Pintail is a third. Companies of Swans from time to time may be observed, usually consisting of Whoopers, and much more rarely of Bewick’s Swans.
During the migration season in spring, and more especially in autumn, these northern river-valleys are frequented by great numbers of land birds on their way to more northern and eastern breeding grounds in Continental areas, or returning south and west to winter in our islands or to cross over them to warmer latitudes. These northern rivers are exceptionally favourable for migration, so many of them trending in the same general direction as the birds are bent on following. Vast numbers of migrant small birds follow such river-valleys as the Tees and the Humber, on their way into Yorkshire, Notts, and Derbyshire, by way of the Don and its tributary streams. It is unnecessary here to dwell upon these species in detail, for we hope to go much deeper into the matter when we come to a study of the migration of birds in the northern shires. We have gathered much evidence in support of this migration during a residence of many years at no great distance from the Humber and certain valleys in direct communication with that important estuary – next, perhaps, in interest, so far as bird-life is concerned, to that still more wonderful locality the Wash, a little lower down the coast.
CHAPTER VIII
ON SEA AND SHORE
It is the bird-life of sea and shore especially that renders these northern shires so much more interesting than the littoral counties of the south and west. Compared with these the southern coasts seem tame and deserted, indeed. This is principally due not only to the fact that so many marine species breed in northern areas only, but also to the much greater strength of migration generally along the coasts. All along the coast from Lincolnshire northwards to the Firth of Forth, and onwards to the Hebrides, St. Kilda, the Orkneys and the Shetlands, we have vast and varied bird populations, not only scattered up and down the shore, but congested here and there where the sea-fowl in unnumbered hosts congregate to rear their broods. The southern counties present us with nothing approaching to this; the wealth and variety of the marine avifauna of the northern shires is one of the most pleasing of their many characteristics.
For the sake of comparison we may here state that along the entire coast-line of South Devon – embracing some of the finest cliff scenery in England and full of sandy reaches, rolling downs, rocky islets and stacks, and lengths of shingle and sand – there are but two typical marine species (at most three, if we include the doubtful Oyster-catcher) that breed, and one only of these, the Herring Gull, in any numbers; the other, the Ringed Plover, is local and nowhere numerous! But how very different is the case when we get round the English coast as far as the Wash and enter that area which for the purposes of the present work we describe as the northern shires. Let us follow this line of varied coast, with its alternating lengths of sand and shingle, buttress-like cliffs, rocky shores, and islets round to the Forth, and briefly glance at the several species that frequent it and breed upon it in succession. We will, however, leave for a future chapter the birds that are more strictly confined to the sea-cliffs, and deal with those only that nest either along the flat shores or low rocky islands.
The first two species that we shall meet with during summer on the sandy reaches of the Lincolnshire coast are the Lesser Tern and the Ringed Plover. The first-named of these is a summer migrant and a late one. We remark it passing up the Devon coast early in May; it reaches its breeding-places by the middle or the third week in that month on the Lincolnshire and Yorkshire coasts, but is later still in Scotland. The return passage is made towards the end of August and through September. Incidentally we may remark that not only this but the other British species of Tern often continue their migrations at night. We have frequently heard the well-known note sounding from the darkened air as flocks of these birds passed north or south along the coast, a short distance from shore. The Lesser Tern breeds in May. It makes no nest, but deposits two or three eggs upon the bare shingle, in spots where the debris of the shore is large – pebbles, broken shells, and the like – not on the fine sand. We may remark that we have taken as many as four eggs in a clutch from this part of the coast. The eggs are very difficult to see on the rough shingle, and during our search for them the distressed little birds flutter and beat about the air uttering their shrill note incessantly, peering down most anxiously, yet displaying no increased alarm when they are actually found and taken. It is a most unfortunate circumstance that this Tern prefers the coast of the mainland to an island for breeding purposes. To this fact its absolute extermination is largely due in not a few localities. There can be no doubt that the three or four other British Terns would have shared the same fate, and become rare and local long ago, in England especially, had they not bred in much less accessible spots, as on the Farne Islands, for instance. Upon the same coast the Ringed Plover also breeds. This bird is a resident in the British Islands, but subject to a good deal of local movement during autumn and winter. We shall find, however, that it always prefers to deposit its four pear-shaped eggs upon the finest brown sand, where scarce a pebble or a shell can be seen. The reason for this curious choice is because the eggs are only spotted, not blotched, and therefore they best resemble such a resting-place as is chosen for them. They would be much more conspicuous upon the shingle where the Tern’s eggs rest. Both eggs have a buff ground-colour closely resembling the sand, but those of one bird are heavily marked to harmonize with shingle, those of the other finely spotted to imitate grains of sand. These birds, again, evince little or no anxiety during our search for their eggs; they seem fully aware that the best policy is to leave them to the safety ensured by their protective coloration. They are laid in Lincolnshire in June, and fresh eggs of both species may be got together during that month; and during the daytime the nearly vertical sun renders incubation scarcely necessary. Both these species may be found breeding here and there along the shore right up to the Humber, and from Spurn still farther northwards until the coast assumes a more rocky character as we approach the famous Flamborough headland. When we reach the rocks a little Passerine bird makes its appearance, and this is the Rock Pipit. As its name implies – and it is a most appropriate one – the bird is only found breeding on a rocky shore. Given this, its distribution round our entire coast-line is a very general one. It breeds as commonly on the rocky shores of Devon as on the Hebrides and the Farne Islands; but there are no Rock Pipits on the flat coast-line between the Thames and the Humber. We meet with it again, however, here on the Yorkshire coast, and cannot easily mistake it, for it is about the only small bird that dwells in such a haunt during summer.
Travelling northwards again until we reach the coast of Northumberland, where between the towns of North Sunderland and Berwick we shall find another length of shore of great interest to the ornithologist. Indeed between these two points are situated the famous Farne Islands, the grandest and most imposing haunt of sea-birds round the entire English coast. On the mainland, nearly opposite to the Farne Islands, there is a long reach of sand dunes between the sea and the cultivated land, and these are frequented by at least one bird of exceptional interest. We may dismiss the Gulls that beat along in restless flight, and pay small attention to the Common Buntings that here justify their name, and for the time being confine our observations to the Sheldrakes that haunt this part of the coast. These sand dunes are an ideal locality for such a bird. Should the tide chance to be out, more likely than not this species will be detected upon them. It is a shy and wary fowl, though, and we need the aid of our powerful binocular to bring it within range of much detailed scrutiny. This Duck is to our mind quite the handsomest of its family in our islands, a combination of very pronounced black, white, and chestnut, with a dash of crimson and pink on bill and legs thrown in. You may watch it thus through your glass walking in a somewhat stately way, not waddling like a more typical Duck; but should you attempt a much nearer scrutiny the big bird unfolds its broad party-coloured wings and seeks a more secluded resting-place. Should the time be high-water, and the blue sparkling sea reaches almost up to the links, most probably a few Sheldrakes will be observed flying over the water up or down the coast. The flight is very characteristic, unlike that of the true Ducks, more like that of a Goose or a Swan, the wings moved up and down with slow measured strokes, so very different from the rapid beats of the bird’s Anatine relations. In this species the sexes are very similar in colour; indeed the chief external difference is the absence of the frontal shield from the female. Following the almost universal law, this conspicuous hen bird takes good care to conceal herself from enemies during the critical period of incubation, and lays her eggs at the end of a long and often winding burrow in the sand. In this particular district a rabbit hole is almost invariably selected, and some of the chosen burrows are so intricate that we may spend hours in the fruitless search for the exact position of the nest. This is usually made at the end of the burrow, and consists in the first place of a handful of dry grass – possibly a rabbit’s old abode; but as the creamy-white and fragile eggs accumulate (to the number of a dozen or sometimes more) the old birds surround them with down of exquisite softness and lavender-gray in colour. As is generally the case where both sexes are showy, and incubate in covered or concealed nests, the male bird takes his due share in the duty of hatching; but so careful are the birds in relieving each other – usually at morning and evening – that they seldom betray the whereabouts of the nest. The young birds, soon after being hatched, quit the burrow and betake themselves in their parents' company to the sea-shore. In this locality the bird is certainly becoming rarer owing to the way the young are captured and the eggs taken by fishermen and others. We once inspected an entire brood of a dozen ducklings that a fisher lad was rearing at Seahouses. He had them confined in a small pen and fed them chiefly upon sand-hoppers, which they were marvellously adept at capturing as he threw them down one by one amongst the downy little creatures. From Holy Island right round to the Forth, this Duck may be met with breeding, preferring in the latter locality the numerous sandy islets. Round the coasts of Scotland it becomes even more numerous and widely dispersed.
We will now retrace our steps to the Farne Islands and make a brief inspection of such birds that build their nests on the flat surface, reserving the cliff-haunting species for our next chapter. Repeated visits to these islands only increase their charm. A single visit is bewildering, renewed acquaintance impresses their wonders upon us and enables us fully to realize the grandeur of the scene and more completely to enjoy the avine wonders of the place. Apart from their bird-life, there is a strong human interest clinging to them, for Grace Darling casts a halo of romance around them by her daring deed long years ago, and which is still a stock subject for conversation up and down the coast. These rocky islands lying a few miles off the shore are nowadays almost a perfect sanctuary for sea-birds. This was not always so; for we can recall the time when the eggs especially were gathered in such a wholesale way that the wonder is there were any sea-birds left there. Strict protection is now the rule, and visitors are generally kept under such close supervision that the lifting of an egg without permission is almost an impossibility. There are, of course, a good many birds on and off these islands at all times of the year; now and then, especially in winter or during migration time, a rare straggler of some non-indigenous British species appears, and the light-keepers have repeatedly assured us that at intervals the sea around them during winter often swarms with Ducks and other northern birds. It is, however, in spring and summer that the islands become crowded with their normal inhabitants – Gulls, Terns, Eider Ducks, Cormorants, Ringed Plovers, Oyster-catchers, Guillemots, and Puffins – assembled there for the express purpose of rearing their young. One of the most characteristic birds of the islands is the Lesser Black-backed Gull – in fact the entire group may be regarded as one vast colony of this species, and perhaps the most densely populated one throughout the length and breadth of the British archipelago. These birds return to the islands – coming from the south from many parts of the German Ocean and the English Channel – early in spring, but the exact date varies a good deal in different years. In some seasons they return en masse as early as from the middle to the end of March; in other seasons not before the middle of April. A month later they are engaged in nesting duties. The date of breeding, however, varies little, and the eggs are invariably laid during May and June. On approaching some of the islands, the first impression is that this Gull monopolizes the whole of the ground, as it occurs in such vast abundance. The air seems full of them, the ground and bare rocks are crowded; and as our boat finally grates against the rough beach and we eagerly jump ashore all becomes noisy excitement – a perfect babel of protesting cries that is persistently kept up until we leave the place. We shall find that the nests vary a good deal in size, some being little more than hollows trampled out amongst the dense beds of campion and thrift, others more substantial and composed of pieces of turf, sea-weed, stalks of herbage and grass. The eggs are three or four in number, and subject to an incredible amount of variation in colour – greens, olives, browns, and grays of almost every possible shade representing the shell tints; browns and grays the markings, which take the form of round spots, blotches, streaks, either evenly distributed over most of the surface, scattered here and there, or forming zones round the end. Right through the summer these Gulls are employed in rearing their young, the period being unusually prolonged because so many of the first clutches of eggs are taken for culinary and other purposes. During the latter part of August and throughout September these Gulls and their young leave the islands and work their way southwards, scattering far and wide over the seas, following the shoals of herrings and sprats and other fish, some of them possibly wandering as far as the Spanish and north-west African coasts. A few Herring Gulls breed here and there among the other species, but this bird has very few large colonies in the northern shires. This is the one species of Gull that breeds on the south coast of Devon, and there its colonies are larger than any we have visited elsewhere in the British Islands. Scattered pairs, however, may be met with here and there along the coasts, and in some few inland spots throughout the northern shires. The Kittiwake also breeds in numbers at the Farnes, but we will reserve our notice of it for a later chapter.
