eggs, generally a male and a female. Hence the Scotch phrase, when there are only a son and daughter of a family, "a doo's nest."

The stock-dove is gregarious in winter, like the ringdove, and feeds on beech-mast, &c., in the same way. They are not found farther north than the midland counties of England. They are beautifully shaped, a blueish grey colour, the males having a fine golden neck. Unlike the other wild pigeons, their voice is a failure, being only a sort of grumbling sound.

The rock-dove (the true wild pigeon) is smaller than the preceding, and has a white spot above the tail. I have often met with them among the rocky caverns of the coast. They fly with great rapidity, which may account for the name "blue rocks," applied by the admirers of that cruel sport, pigeon-shooting, to their fleetest birds. Both in the Caithness and Morayshire cliffs, I noticed some brown and light-coloured; these, most likely, had joined their wild associates from some pigeon-house, although there were none within the distance of several miles. This is the more likely, as the habits of the rock-doves are exactly those of the domestic species. Their nests are never fixed in trees, and, when tame pigeons leave the dovecot, they always build in similar places-viz., old ruins, and sheltered rocks and caverns. In fact, I have little doubt they are the same bird in a wild and tame state.

One word for the turtle, that fairest of doves, and most welcome harbinger of spring. There is a plaintive murmur in its coo, connected as it is with the idea of constancy

and truth, that has made it in all ages, par excellence, the One peculiarity of this gentle

bird of love and song.

It

creature is its concealing itself among the most impervious places of the wood, so that it is not easily seen. generally builds near the top of thick evergreen trees, and, as it does not come to this country till the end of April, and returns in September, it only rears one brood, taking its journey as soon as the young ones are able to travel.

On first arriving here, they often frequent the green corn-fields in pairs; at the time of incubation, however, they keep more to the woods, where nothing but the coo betrays their retreat. told, they are gregarious after they have reared their young, and frequent the corn and pea-fields like other doves. But I have never seen above four or five in company. I once traced out one by its coo, and had the satisfaction of seeing him perched on the topmost branch of an old oak, lowering his head at intervals, and pouring forth his tender notes. When partridge-shooting in Suffolk, a pair of turtles rose off the stubble, and settled upon one of the top branches of a high tree. I continued my range in

In some parts of England, I am

their direction, and killed both at a shot. Neither had the patch on the side of the neck, so were most likely hatched that year.

Turtles are often met with in the northern counties of England, and are not unfrequently found in Scotland. My brother shot one in Dumbartonshire a few years ago. It was evidently very young.

ROCK AND RIVER OUSELS

ALTHOUGH the rock ousel, as his name imports, is fond of rocks and precipices, and commonly builds among them, yet a pair may often be met with haunting ferny brakes with only a few scattered stones, upon which they delight to perch. When disturbed, they fly from stone to stone, uttering a very grating chirp, which seems to be a note of defiance. This summer (1842) a good number of them came down from the hills to the garden at Lennie, and did much damage to the fruit, especially the currants. The gardener shot several, which he brought to me. ring of the males was very dusky, and in some there were brown feathers interspersed. The females had no white ring at all. They were timid birds-much more so than the thrushes and blackbirds, their fellow-depredators—and it required some caution to get a shot at them.

The

A nest was found in the spring, near the foot of a thick bush, on the bank of a rocky brook. They reared their young ones undisturbed. I think it not unlikely that the greater number of those that frequented the garden in

summer were birds of that year, although the crescent of one shot by the gardener, evidently an old male, was far less pure than in spring, and certainly not so fully pronounced. A pair had their nest on the crags of Arthur's Seat, a few summers ago, and I often watched them with interest. The crescent in both, particularly the male, was silvery as the moon's, and the birds were not wild. Their song is pleasing, though melancholy. This bird has always been a great favourite with me, most likely from association, for it loves "the unplanted places."

The little Dipper, or river ousel, is no less attractive. There is a look of loneliness about this little inhabitant of the flood like the solitudes it frequents. Often, in the deepest and most tangled recess of the mountain-burn, or perched upon some gaunt stone by the side of the muirland loch, the water ousel, when disturbed by some chance explorer of nature, will fly cheerily forward, and, re-settling upon the clear water, seems, by the buoyancy of its little movements, to try to impart its happiness to the thoughtful visitant.

The food of this bird consists of water insects, the roe of fish, &c.; but its bill does not seem formed for seizing the small fry, as the kingfisher does. It is also incapable of feeding at any great depth, from the want of web feet, on which account it generally chooses the shallows where the salmon and trout roe is deposited. I have twice seen it feed upon some very minute substance about a foot from the surface, but whether animalculæ or not, it was impossible to ascertain. The first time, when after wild-ducks on the river Tay, I saw a motion in a clear

still creek, and, when I cautiously peeped over the bank, I discovered the little bird under water, rowing itself both with wings and legs, at the same time pecking at something, apparently with as much ease as a barn-door fowl would devour a handful of grain. It was so intent on its food that I was not perceived for a few seconds; but, on looking up to see if the coast was clear, it saw me at once through the water, rose to the surface and flew away, as with one and the same motion. Another winter, my notice was attracted by just such a ripple in Lennie Water, and again I detected the ousel at his secret meal. The water in both cases was very bright, but, without a miscroscope, it could not be discovered whether the delicacies on which it regaled were vegetable substances or some minute water insects.

In spring and summer these birds generally are found singly or in pairs, but in winter they often congregate in some favoured river, and may then be seen in great numbers. They do not always select the places where fish are most abundant, as we should imagine from their living so much on the roe. I stumbled upon a newly-flown nest of these birds, when fishing the brook that separates Loch Katrine from Achray, and could easily have caught some of them; but I rather amused myself by watching their unformed bows and curtseys-copied, no doubt, from the parents, who were flitting up and down in great alarm.

The water ousel is a hardy bird, especially for one that does not migrate in summer; and it is a novelty, when land and water are bound by an iron frost, and,