[From Bird-Life in the Isle of Man]

SISKIN

The Siskin, I fancy, outside of its being a fairly regular visitor to the Island, is more common than may be imagined, being quite probably overlooked, especially in the winter, when it does not show up so well with the attractive colourings which it takes to itself in spring. I have been lucky enough to see it in fair numbers, and it is interesting both to watch its constant movements and listen to its little twitter- ing notes as it flies or jerks about.

Personally I cannot speak to its having nested here, but, as it is by no means uncommon as a nester in Ireland, there seems no reason against its doing so; and I have seen old and young about in the month of August.

TWITE

A bird of the heather, as Mr. Coward so truly terms it, the Twite is never far absent from those bushes summer or winter. In the winter when driven down by the cold, I have found it in small numbers on the heathery sides of the brows when it has made itself known by its sweet little canary-like call-note which sounds lke "tweek"; not at all wild, and most cheerful. One bird which was very close and tame I noticed had a slight white moustachial streak, which is curious and unusual. In the hills or heights it is uncommon ; I have only come across it in two such localities, although it is quite possible that it may be found in many similar localities, especially as it is highly improbable that it is much interfered with. No bird is more interesting to watch in its nesting site, and there is plenty to be seen, as it appears to like to nest in small sociable groups, maybe of three pairs, and the little song of the male is very cheerful with what sounds to me like a small boy-like whistle note in it, interspersed with the call-note of their "twit twit" or "twahit. Like all birds it gets much agitated if you approach too near its nest, close to or in some heathery patch, but soon gets accustomed to the presence of man if you do not approach too close. On one occasion I was lucky enough to watch the old birds feeding the young on a glorious fine day, well worth the long and arduous climb to see, as they flitted backwards and forwards or away in constant search for more food. Of all the moorland birds I know, it seems to be the least fearless of man, and will carry on its nesting activities quite cheerfully and apparently unworried. The bird seems to slowly increase, and I was delighted, one August, to watch a big family moving together on the top of one of our great cliffs.

LESSER REDPOLL

Fine as the linnet is in its summer plumage, in my opinion it cannot be compared with its smaller relative, the Redpoll, when in April a troop is seen actively playing about in willows, showing off their varied crimsons and pinks on head and breast and rump with the noticeable black chin; and when one flies away up singing its little song and then comes back twittering into the willows. I have seen a small flock flying round singing, mixed up with some newly- arrived sedge-warblers. They are indeed a delight to the eye, and it is not too uncommon nester with us in the suitable low-lying localities, where it makes a beautiful little nest, often of grass and moss-lined with wild cotton, and for its size deeper than most nests. In the autumn and winter I have not seen many about, though, when the winter has been severe, it seems to put in an appearance in small numbers, and may be noticed with its dancing flight and little twitter coming along to search for food in its gentle happy way, and apparently quite unconcerned about the observation of mere man. I would that they were more common with us, as they are at all times a pleasure to watch, most especially when they are displaying before their mates on a bright sunny day, when the colours are quite dazzling as the birds flitter about.

LINNET

What a really beautiful bird is the Linnet when it emerges from its winter-browns into its spring touches of crimson on head and breast: and some more brilliant than the others. It always seems such a shame from one standpoint that the females have to be so dowdy in comparison with the summer costume of the male: and it is certainly most marked in the Iinnet. But then as the female does: most of the sitting on the nest, bright colours would too often give the show away to the would-be marauder. The linnet is a bird of the wilds and the moors, it has not much use for the homestead. It loves to build its nest away out in the gorse-bush, though it does not necessarily confine itself to such bushes; but the nest is not as a rule far off the ground. I examined one nest in a gorse-bush which was beautifully lined with red cow-hair, the five young ones, only recently hatched out, were dark grey-blue in colour, quaint little chaps, all eager for food. Later as the linnets became more mature towards the end of the summer you may see them perched on the telegraph wires, in long rows with older birds, keeping up a continuous quick twitter. And, by the time the autumn comes, they are ready to join the older birds in the big flocks of field wanderings. In the autumn, out Scarlett way, I have seen big flocks between the rocks and the fields, and it is curious to watch the way the bird clings on to the side of the stone wall on the sunny side, at such an angle one wonders how it is done. ,

The linnet-song is sweet and pretty in a quiet sort of way. I once listened to a great singing contest between a linnet and a stone-chat on a telegraph wire. And how they kept it up: it was a drawn battle: both gave it up at last, exhausted !

What a cheerful fellow it appears to be even under the most trying weather conditions, a good example to some of us grousing mortals! And it is alwaysa joy to watch, especially when in full summer plumage and full activity and the delights of courting, which it carries out with so much song and queer antics for its would-be mate.

BULLFINCH

The Bullfinch is a very rare bird in the Island, even allowing that, notwithstanding the unmistakable appearance of the male bird, it is inclined in the summer-time to keep well to itself in wooded places. I have seen it on a few occasions, mostly near and round Douglas, and along the Glen Helen valley. One summer in a garden in Douglas I am certain that it nested, although I was unable to locate its nest, as for a considerable time I watched the male bird collecting food and flying off, surely to feed a family ; and this was after having heard and seen the bird the day before. One day in the month of November, much to my surprise, I saw a male bird perched on the roof of a barn near Derbyhaven, and watched it for some time until it flew off towards the seashore, shewing the white-bar and rump very plainly.

CROSSBILL

It was common report, in July, 1927, that there was a big invasion of Crossbills into England, and they began to be talked of as being in the Isle of Man. On July 31st Kneale the Forester, Mylecraine, and I walked through Gob-y-Volley plantation some way, and saw at least sixteen birds feeding in some young larches; they were very tame, and kept up a sort of "Zit Zit? call, but not quite that. They were, in their actions, very like parrots of a small kind: the way they climbed about the branches and held food in their claws. There were two fine red males, several female and some immatures, rather like starlings. The latter had several quarrels while I was watching, hanging on to each other by their queer bills. I found the remains of a bird, no doubt killed by sparrow-hawks which infest the wood. On August 2nd I was on the Calf, and, when on my way from the Sound to the farmhouse, found quite forty on the road or the moor, calling and apparently busy on some insects. Farther on, I noticed about one hundred on the moor, feeding and twittering. When I got nearer, they flew off with a strong, bounding flight. Later, at the farmhouse, I found a tree (about the only tree on the Calf) in the yard full of them. There was one fine red male ; and they were all chattering away and so tame. This was no doubt a small mob of the big English invasion. On the twenty-second of the month I saw a few birds about on Lewaigue Hill, near Ramsey, near some larches.

On August Ist, 1930, I was up at Injebreck. I saw a good many on the tops of some pine-trees, mostly young birds, busy climbing about side-ways and turning over the cones when broken off and picking out seeds. The next day I was sent down a dead bird from this lot, and was much interested examining it.

CHAFFINCH

The Chaffinch is one of the common birds of the Island and is always with us, and during the winter months is in big flocks which are to be found every- where, in the fields, in the stackyards, along the shore, frequently mixed with other birds such as green- finches, etc. That there is considerable migratory movement is undoubted, and certainly there are far more birds about in the winter. It is interesting to observe how, as the autumn creeps on us, the birds suddenly disappear from the gardens and are then to be found in the fields: and as the spring begins to be felt and as the males begin once more to find their little song — the earliest date I have heard it attempted is February 2nd — they begin to come back nearer to cultivation, always sounding and looking cheerful and resplendent in fresh plumage, which makes the males so handsome and well-groomed ; and from morning to night the song or the call, so well-known as to become monotonous after a time, is to be heard. The song itself has peculiar alterations; at times I have almost been deceived and have thought that it was that of a lesser whitethroat, or at least a bad attempt at it.

What a beautiful nest they produce in due course, moss and lichen so blended with its surroundings as to be at times most difficult to note.

I remember one nest in my garden being largely composed of paper slips taken from an old chocolate box which had been left lying about, and they made a happy blend in colour, quite an artistic touch. It is a fine sight to watch the rate the pair will work at; and, as the nest advances towards completion, to see the male bringing stuff and the female patting it down with her feet. And then later comes the zest with which the young are fed, jolly little chaps which, when fairly advanced, will hop out on to the nearest twigs — when you look at them, quite devoid of fear. And their beautiful home, surely one of the loveliest structures made by birds: one wonders how anyone can have the heartlessness to destroy them, The nests are to be found at varying heights from the ground in bush or hedge, or side of a tree. I once saw one actually built in a hole on the bank by the side of the road, a very unusual place.

Happy and active, careless of the close approach of man, it is one of so many birds which does far more good than harm.

BRAMBLING

I may be wrong, but it seems to me that this bird only visits the Island spasmodically: under any circumstances, as a rule it is only in small numbers. Its fondness for feeding on beech-trees would no doubt account for its scarcity ; but I have generally found it consorting with chaffinches out in the fields and stack-yards. And only quite recently, it may be owing to severe weather in December, it has been more numerous than I have known it before; in one stack-yard near Port Grenaugh it considerably out-numbered the chaffinch.

It is said that it may be overlooked in the big flocks: it always appears to me to be so much more conspicuous than most birds of its size with its beautiful bright chestnut markings, black head and white rump. I have seen it in a road forming an outskirt of Douglas, and again on the shore or close by at Derbyhaven, and again on the road between Laxey and Douglas ; but generally it has been on the fields that the bigger numbers have been. Arriving in October, it is gone again in March for its more Northern summer haunts, where I have had the great joy of seeing it at its nest, in all its glorious summer plum- age. When in full song, it will throw its head right back and with mouth wide open continue its frequently repeated note, which almost reminds one of the greenfinch note, but more so.

HOUSE-SPARROW

The House-sparrow no doubt has its uses, but it appears to the ordinary person to be rather a pest than otherwise: it can be, and is, extremely destruc- tive in a garden; a miller of my acquaintance complains of the way it picks out mortar from the mill-wall to make more room for itself.

By its pushful ways it will successfully oust house-martins from their nesting sites; in fact, it can leave nothing alone when it has made up its mind to "butt in". As soon as autumn comes, it is away in vast troops into the fields and stack-yards, and even on to the shore, and continues its interfering habits there "ad lib". And yet it is intensely interesting to watch, and it makes itself as much at home in towns and villages as elsewhere, though the appearance of the grubby-looking bird of the town and guttering leaves much to be desired.

Let it be said that it is a very good parent. The nest, untidy as it appears from outside, is beautifully warm inside, and largely composed of hen feathers, it will take to nest-boxes whether it is wanted or not. It is amusing to see a cock-bird trying to squeeze through the small aperture and almost sticking in it, I have known the cock-bird make itself a very comfortable nest in a box alongside of the nest where the female was sitting. And no wonder it is so numerous. Three families are frequently reared in the year; no difficult feat, as it starts so early. The quarrelling which goes on at favourite nesting places is most deadly: it is no uncommon thing to see a pair fight to the death. On one occasion late in July I watched a hen bird in my garden, where crumbs were laid, feeding a well-grown young bird many times, beak to beak, and so carefully.

It is only to be expected with a bird so common that it often shows peculiarities of colouring and body, such as white central tail feathers, large white marks on the wings, even nearly all white. I have seen a bird badly deformed, all crunched up with the tail like a fan and its feathers quite a bright chestnut.

It is an uncommonly quick and active bird, yet in one of the T.T. Races a motor cyclist coming down Bray Hill at a tremendous speed caught a bird as it rose off the road in front of him; it was flung for yards by the impact and killed. Hardy and inured to cold, cheeky, insolent to other birds, at times a great pest, yet it would be sadly missed.

TREE-SPARROW

The Tree-Sparrow is by no means uncommon in the Island, and it is no doubt often overlooked owing to its being so like the house-sparrow. I have found more round the outskirts of Douglas than anywhere, though there are a fair number near Castletown; and it may be found on the West in Bishopscourt direction. It is a handsome little bird; much more so than its near relation, and the chestnut head and black cheek-marks are distinctive features. At one time a colony was very fond of the sea wall at Scarlett for nesting purposes. But the bird is not particular where it nests, whether in a hole in a tree or in a stone wall. I have found a pair nesting on the wooden beam of a lean-to shed of a garden. It makes a much neater nest than the house-sparrow, and this is often beautifully lined with horsehair, feathers and wool.

It is a pretty sight to see a colony of old and young, when the latter are old enough, in the summer playing about in the trees. I have watched them for a long time with great pleasure. The note is quite distinct too from that of the house-sparrow, sounding plain "Chip" not "Chirp". Possibly, why it escapes notice so much is that it is a gentle quiet bird in comparison with its noisy quarrelsome cousin.

CORN-BUNTING

Quite the dullest in appearance of his species, the Corn Bunting always looks dull and dyspeptic as he perches conspicuously on a telegraph wire or the top of a hedge, and wheezes away monotonously in a kind of so-called jingling song: and, when he does fly, he goes off lazily and not too far with his legs hanging down as if he had not got the strength to lift them and was too weary — a truly amusing bird in his dull outlook on life, if he only knew it, to the onlooker. It is a big bird of its kind, but I have not seen it do much in the feeding line, perhaps it is too lazy to want to, or gobbles when it does, hence the indigestion. However, between them, the male and female know how to conceal the nest most cleverly out in the field; and it is most difficult to, find and would be more so if the lazy old male would not hang about so near, wheezing to his mate. The bird is decidedly local in the Island, in some parts quite common, in others quite unknown. I have seen more round Jurby and Bride way than anywhere, A good many must depart during the winter months, as it is not usual to see them then, although I have met with them as late as Boxing Day and as early as February 11th; and, indeed, judging from their usual methods of passing the time when here, it must be a painful process to go far afield. But then this may be misjudging the bird, and it may have powers of getting brisk quite unknown to me.

The nest is most untidy and large, and laid on the ground in the middle of grass or cornfields. I have even seen it under a plant in a potato field ; and they are, as a rule, very late nesters.

YELLOW HAMMER

The Yellow Hammer is one of the common birds of the Island wherever hedges and gorse are to be found, and such places are still plentiful. A timid but friendly bird, what glorious beauty of yellow and chestnut it possesses when it is in full plumage; and why should it be possessed of that sad and wearisome song which it never seems tired of repeating? And, with all its beauty, it has also useful points: it devours many insects which would otherwise be a pest to men. I have seen it in my garden, in a droughty July, clearing out green caterpillars off the cabbages as quickly as it could, and thoroughly enjoying them, day after day. I fancy that this bird, if not paired for life, finds his mate very early in the new year. I have seen a pair early in February perched side by side on the top of a tree, occasionally looking at each other, shall I say wrapped in silent love: the best the cock could do in the way of amorous speech was an occasional "Tchick". Soon comes the monotonous old lilt: no wonder the hen wants to get to work with repeated nestings, sometimes right away into September. And the eggs are as beautiful as the birds, with their quaint scribblings like some bird shorthand. And the nest itself is, as a rule, well concealed, sometimes in gorse, or deep in a hedge, frequently on the ground itself, maybe on a bank or in the open. Then when the burden of rearing and feeding young is over, and the male song dies away, off goes the flock into the fields and farmyards to join with so many other little birds to help the farmer by removing many land-pests. May the glorious gorse and the hedgerows be long spared to us to make habitation for the comely bird so often known as the Canary of the North,

REED-BUNTING

Wherever there are curraghs in the Island or reed- encircled ponds or marshy ground, there you may hope to see this handsome bird. What a fine fellow the male bird is in the full summer plumage, conspicuous with his black head and clean white collar. Like all buntings he does not excel in the musical line, though he keeps pretty busy like his relations ; the female confines herself mostly to little "tweet- tweets", and the young sometimes make notes almost like those of the greenfinch. And after the usual spring display of courting, when the female herself is not averse to fanning out her tail and displaying the white outer feathers, the pair construct a wonderfully well-concealed nest either on or near the ground in a dry place. A beautiful little nest it is, with equally beautiful eggs, somewhat of the same sort as the yellow-hammer's. I have in mind a nest which I saw in a tussock of grass, well concealed by long grass, overhanging it, made of very thick coarse grass, and neatly lined with yellowish bits of fine grass or reed-tops ; the female, which had risen almost from my feet, was much worried, keeping very close, until I moved away, when she was back like a flash. Sometimes when the male is handy to the nest he will try and come the "old soldier" trick of dragging a wing along the ground as if to attract your attention away from the nest. Like so many of these species, when the breeding cares are over, they will collect in flocks and sally forth elsewhere, and for a space of time their haunts know them no more. What an interesting sight it is to see a flock of, say, forty of them, free from breeding and moulting cares, collecting round the reeds and the over-growth and weeds of a piece of water, walking over them quite easily; and then up in the air and in among the reeds, with a constanttwitter, and then away off to look for some other good place.

It is certainly a most charming, active being, and well worth much observation: and it is by no means uncommon, if you don't mind the damp and wet of the surroundings of its favourite haunts.

LAPLAND BUNTING

On November 14th, 1929, I was on the shore of Castletown Bay back of Derbyhaven with Cregeen, when we heard a plaintive, little musical note, rather high pitched, like a miniature edition of that of the golden plover; then we saw, on the wrack, the bird which was calling, a stranger. Then, in a few moments, it rose and flew past us, quite straight with a downward bend, and again settled about a hundred yards away. It was whitish underneath and looked generally rufous-brown on the back and shewed no white on wing, etc. I was quite satisfied that it was the above-named species, especially as Mr. Coward kindly procured me some skins to look at, but, since seeing several birds of this species in Norfolk, I can have no doubt.

SNOW-BUNTING

Commoner perhaps than may be generally known, the Snow-bunting is yet a rare bird in this Island during the winter months, and never seen in any numbers, although I have recently heard of a flock of over thirty on Snaefell.

I have found it away out on the wild moors on a wild day, not far from an old sheep or cattle kraal lying between Garraghan and Snaefell — a small bird lost in the limitless moorland heather, and only a bird of its first winter too, away out there on its own, drifting down from the bleak north by Heaven knows what instinct, not over-shy of man, as it gives its slight twitter and flies away to look back once more as it lands on the damp ground. I have seen it again in the latter days of March in a blustery storm, running about on the road not far from Derbyhaven and apparently feeding. This was an older bird, still in its winter plumage, and a picture of white and pale chestnut-yellow, as it settled for a while on a neighbouring wall. And thus, so far as I know it, one may see it, an irregular and stray wanderer to these moors and shores; and would that there were more to be seen, for it is a beautiful bird to charm the eye in the gloomy winter days.