Wheatear, the Whinchat, and the Stonechat, is open to improvement, and that if lots were drawn as to which of the names should be applied to each bird, the result might not improbably be more in accordance with their individual haunts and habits than is now the case. The favourite perch of the Wheatear is beyond all doubt on some wall or rock, and its affection for stony places is notorious. The Whinchat, to my thinking, frequents the lowland pastures more frequently than the upland heaths, and is not necessarily to be sought amongst whins; while, on the contrary, the haunts of the Stonechat are confined almost exclusively to wild heaths and commons, and on the topmost sprays of the whin-bushes it is almost invariably to be seen stationed. Nevertheless, the Wheatear does not take its name from the haunts it particularly affects, as its congeners are supposed to do.
Bircher Common—or, to use the vernacular of the district, Bircher "Kimmin"—is one of the favourite resorts in Herefordshire of the Stonechat. Here it is an early breeder, and those who are in want of its eggs and meditate a search for the same on their own account, had better make a note of the fact. The allegation that it rears two broods in a season, however, is probably correct. The nest, somewhat slovenly put together, is almost invariably placed on the ground in the recess of some furze-bush, and is most skilfully concealed. It is composed of moss and dry grass, and lined with finer grass, hair, and occasionally a few feathers, while I have one nest in my memory, taken on Bircher Common, that was profusely lined with sheep's wool.
The eggs are subject to a certain amount of variation, but the ground colour is generally of a pale greenish blue, typical more of the shade of Spotted Flycatchers' eggs than that of those of its allied species, the Whinchat. They are, however, very prettily and distinctly mottled with specks and spots of reddish brown, which, when not confluent, frequently form a wreath round the broad end. I have never come across the unspotted variety in my wanderings. The most perfect clutch of Stonechat's eggs I ever saw came from the common I have already alluded to; they were not only of unusual size, but a magnificent zone of bold brown markings enriched the broad end of every one of them. Five is as frequent a number in a clutch as six, according to my observations.
