breeding season upon Highland loch or Norwegian fjord.
But for a re-opening burst of song late in the month from thrushes and skylarks, the songsters of September are practically the same as those of August. Should we not give a word of acknowledgment, however, to the Pied Wagtail's sprightly ditty, heard as it runs briskly on the roof hawking flies, often springing into the air to come lightly down again? In mild and favoured districts of the West Country, one may hear the Woodlark's flute-like notes, uttered as it flies to-and-fro overhead, seemingly quite at random, and often with a wavering bat-like flight, quite unlike the pushful upward mounting to the accompaniment of which the skylark trills. Robins chase one another pugnaciously, warbling little snatches of song, for the young birds begin to show their red breasts, a sign to their elders that they had better go out into the world to fend for themselves. No bird is more attached than the robin to its own special haunt, where it brooks no rival, hence the young hopefuls receive forcible notice to quit, and to the disputes which thus occur is due no doubt the common idea that the young robins kill the old ones in autumn.
Perhaps it is family discussions of the same nature which cause the Brown Owls to be unusually noisy at this time of year. The loud hooting of the old birds, accompanied by the sharp "kee-wick" or
