Page:The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 1 (1897).djvu/498

470 know not—built in the tree that stands at the corner of Wood Street, Cheapside.— (Verulam House, Watford).

Habits of the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker.—Subsequently to a brief sojourn on Lundy Island during May of the present year, I had the pleasure of spending a few days at Clovelly, where I was favoured with excellent opportunities for watching some of the habits of Dendrocopus minor, a little bird whose life-history, by reason of its rarity and exceeding shyness, does not readily lend itself to close examination. On three or four consecutive mornings I found the male bird—the female, doubtless, was busy with the cares of incubation—haunting the topmost branches of a patriarchal elm immediately in front of The Court, and even if it was not in my mind on first coming out of doors, my attention was sure to be speedily arrested by its curious and far-reaching "krark-rk-rk-rk-rk-rk," which sound I had little difficulty in establishing to my own personal satisfaction was caused by the astonishingly rapid vibration of the bird's beak against the limbs of the tree. I believe this is the generally accepted explanation of one of the most peculiar sounds in nature. Nevertheless, the motion of the bill was so rapid as to be virtually indiscernible to the eye, even with the aid of field-glasses. The noise produced, syllabled as above, somewhat long drawn out, and with just the suspicion of a tremolo when heard at a distance, has been likened to various sounds; but it struck me—ambushed as I was close by—that it resembled more than anything else that caused by cumbrous branch, partially detached from the main stem, gradually swaying to and fro with each extra heavy gust of wind. What, however, provided me with matter for still more earnest reflection was the way in which the little bird frequently gathered its food. Never stationary for long together, time after time it would take insects from under the leaves after the manner of the Phylloscopi. Occasionally it would vary this procedure by darting out and capturing an insect on the wing, in this respect reminding me forcibly of the Spotted Flycatcher. With its pretty dipping kind of flight and nesting economy I was already familiar, having come across the species on more than one occasion during the spring months in Herefordshire; also with its note, "pseep, seep, seep, seep, seep, seep "—resembling on a modified scale the cry, suggestive of mockery, of the Kestrel, and not unlike that of the Wryneck; as a rule, on uttering this note, the example I watched so long and attentively in its favourite haunts raised and threw its head well back. But the method of capturing its food, as recorded above, came to me as a revelation, and, so far as I am justified in my assumption—I can find no allusion to it anywhere— it is a detail which, for obvious reasons, we can hardly affect surprise at having been passed over in silence by writers on ornithology. Of the natural beauties of Clovelly and its surroundings most people know by repute; that is, of course, another