observation, I should say, at least a couple of hours. Neither did I observe them to be catching insects, or otherwise procuring food. Also I note that, except for this new note ("tir-whi-whi-whi-whi-whi"), and for far the greater part of the time, the birds flew silently. The whole flight up was in silence until the Hawk incident. No cry uttered whilst on the ground.
At about 5.30 to 6 p.m. I returned to this same bank, distant by about some thousand yards from the place where I had first seen the birds assembled, and watched them dancing. When they had flown off in the evening, they had always gone in one direction (towards where I now was), and I wished to see if they would again settle on the heather here, or fly on, as I supposed they would. Not expecting to find any birds here now, I walked up without precaution, and put a good many up from the same place as this morning. It was a pity, as I should have liked to have noted their behaviour also as the evening came on. I now sat down behind the bank, looking over it in the direction of the amphitheatre. About 7 p.m. (as I suppose), the moon being well risen and bright (full or almost full), the birds began to fly up and over me, heralded by their wailing cry. I counted some twenty odd, but most escaped me in the gloom (the moon not helping much). They showed no inclination to stop at this second place of resort (as I now think it to be), but went right away over the country, flying in twos, threes, or fours at irregular intervals. Compare this with their morning flight in a great flock, silent, or, if not, uttering a quite different note.[1]
September 21st.—Walking to the same place as yesterday, I concealed myself on one side of the bracken-covered part of the bank near the wide gap, and commanding the moor in two directions. This must have been about 5.35 or 40 a.m.
Bright and clear, but breezy and chilly. Rabbits about, but not very alert, and as I walked along the road I noticed several that sat as if asleep by their burrows.
Lightening now in the east, but sun not yet visible from behind a wooded hill.
A small flock of Starlings (first bird-life noted) fly by over the moor.
- ↑ But this morning flight was with little doubt due to the birds having been disturbed, as will shortly appear.
