Page:The Zoologist, 4th series, vol 1 (1897).djvu/89

Rh favourably with his own. It sings cheerily and industriously from dawn to dark, often commencing, in fact, some time before daybreak. I have heard it at 3.15 a.m. In the Botanic Garden the label-stands formed a favourite perch, and were also much resorted to by Spotted Flycatchers. On May 23rd a pair of Black Redstarts were leading fledglings about the shrubbery with twittered encouragement and anxious scolding at the intruder. So late as July 9th a noisy brood emerged from behind the rainwater pipe on the Schloss. On Aug. 6th I noticed that the males were coming into song again after scarcely three weeks of silence, and from that time onwards they sang constantly till I left on Sept. 11th.

On March 18th, with warm southerly wind, came a "rush" of Chiffchaffs, and there was undoubtedly a large arrival of Robins about this date. In the woods they were to be heard at every turn, while in winter scarcely one was to be seen. Wood Larks began to sing about the open heath-land on the edge of the forest. On the 20th hybernating butterflies, such as Brimstones and Camberwell Beauties (Vanessa antiopa) were flying. Woodpeckers were jubilant, and amatory Jays vented their feelings in a variety of uncouth notes. Two days later Stonechats returned, and on March 24th the first Blackcap reached the Botanic Garden; colder weather set in, and there was no further arrival of this species for ten days.

A party of Lesser Redpolls on April 1st, and Redwings a week later, were no doubt working northward. I heard the Willow Wren on the 9th, and the next day the first Swallows were skimming over the Rhine at Königswinter. I found the Grey Wagtail in pairs frequenting the streams of the Seven Mountains and at Rolandseck, and noted Waterhens and Dabchicks haunting the reedy pool at Heisterbach Abbey. April 14th was noteworthy for the arrival of the Serins. I scarcely expected to meet with this species so far north; possibly it is extending its range. In a few days its artless jingle of a song, more suggestive of a Bunting than a Finch, was to be heard everywhere in suburban gardens. In the Botanic Garden I had full opportunity of watching its fussy and energetic ways. Its usual callnote is a sibilant trill. At pairing-time the males have a wavering flight, like that of a Sand Martin, and often sing upon the wing.