The Zoologist/3rd series, vol 1 (1877)/Issue 1/On the Migration of Birds on the N.E. Coast of England in the Autumn of 1876

by John Cordeaux

 

ON THE MIGRATION OF BIRDS ON THE N.E. COAST OF
ENGLAND IN THE AUTUMN OF 1876.

By John Cordeaux.

 

The following notes, although not so complete as I could have wished them to be, refer more especially to the arrival of autumn migrants on that part of the north-east coast lying between the Spurn Point and the estuary of the Tees during the fall of 1876. For many of them I am indebted to the letters of correspondents, some of whom, although not perhaps practical ornithologists, have yet a very considerable knowledge of our common autumn visitants, a knowledge acquired under the peculiar circumstances of their life, which is a very watchful and observant one,—the guardianship and care of lighthouses overlooking the stormy waters of the great North Sea,—and rarely do we find a finer and more intelligent body of men than those employed in this important and trustful service.

It has long been a well-known fact that, during the period of the autumn migrations, large numbers of birds of various species immolate themselves by dashing, during the night time, when in full migratory swing, against the thick glasses which surround the lanterns of the various lighthouses on our shores, more particularly those situated on the eastern and southern coasts. I have known flocks of migrating Starlings settle in the night time on the top of a lighthouse, where they continued for a long time to keep up a continual chattering, astonished perhaps at the novelty of the situation. Numbers of small birds will often hover for hours to and fro in the blaze of light without striking the glass, like moths on a summer evening when the hall-door is open and the lamp lighted. Sometimes, too, on dark and misty nights flocks of Curlew and Whimbrel, like spirits of the lost, wail and scream round the solitary lamp-trimmer in his lonely pharos, or troops of Gray Plover and Dunlin whirl past in the blaze cast forth by highly-polished lenses—shape, size or colour as distinctly apparent in each individual bird as if seen by the light of noonday. It is a curious sight indeed for the lonely night-watcher to see the deluded little birds beating themselves to death against the polished pane, or to hear the thump as something heavier—Blackbird or Fieldfare—strikes and is hurled back smashed and senseless into the abyss. It seems easy enough for the spectator unaccustomed to the scene, bewildered and dazed by the blaze of light within the lamp-room, to slip and pitch headlong through the glass into the same black abyss which has just swallowed up the birds; but it is years now since I spent a night in a lighthouse, and the sensation of fancying oneself pitching backwards through the glass into the darkness requires some imagination to recall it.

Often have I wished that it were possible for a thoroughly practical ornithologist to be placed, for three months in the autumn, in each lighthouse and lightship; his work to consist of filling up, in a tabulated form, a record of birds striking the glass at night; the number of each species, sex and age, direction of flight, hour, state of weather and wind. These tables, taken collectively, would be deeply interesting, and perhaps throw light on some of the yet little-understood problems of migration.

It is rarely, if ever, that sea birds strike the glasses; they are perhaps too much accustomed to see the lights, and we find, as a rule, that they migrate far out at sea. Shore birds, again, do not so frequently come to grief as the true land birds; they are accustomed to the shore and the neighbourhood of lighthouses, and are also partly crepuscular in their habits. In nine out of ten cases it is the true land bird that suffers from these collisions—such as under normal circumstances go to roost at a reasonable and early hour, and are on the wing again at the first flush of dawn; they are unaccustomed to the darkness, more apt to be bewildered by late hours and the glare of lamps, and have little experience of night travelling, for the dark night migration takes place but once a year.

Eagle.—An Eagle, probably Haliæetus albicilla, was seen during the third week in November about the coast near Seaton Carew, Durham: it succeeded in avoiding the attentions of the numerous coast gunners, and finally took its leave after a few days' sojourn in the neighbourhood.

Osprey.—Mr. Richardson, of Beverley, informs me that he has received for preservation a male Osprey, apparently a bird of the second year. It was shot on the 23rd of November, at Cherry Burton, near Beverley. Mr. Adrian, of Lincoln, told me of another obtained this autumn in South Lincolnshire, but I neglected at the time to make a note of the date and locality.

Peregrine Falcon.—Mr. Bailey, of Flamborough, has recently seen three or four about the headland. Flamborough Head appears to be a very favourite locality for this species.

Short-eared Owl.—These birds arrived on the night of the 23rd October; at least, I first found them on the morning of the 24th, crouched amid patches of rough sea-grass on the embankment, as well as further inland on drain-sides and amidst rough grass in pastures. In the latter places they are comparatively safe. Unfortunately those alighting on the coast are almost invariably potted by the first loafer who at break of day, with rusty fowling-piece and villainous cur at heel, strolls along the sea embankment; for the poor soft-winged slow-flying Owl offers an easy mark, and will sit till nearly trodden upon. This autumn unprecedented numbers came, and I have heard of them in many localities on this coast. It is astonishing any are left to migrate, considering the number, year after year, wantonly and cruelly destroyed on their first arrival, as well as the many which figure afterwards amongst the "sundries" of the autumn and winter shootings. Mr. Lewis, the Principal of ihe Spurn Lighthouse, says he has never known them strike the glass like other birds, but during the period of migration they will fly round and round the lantern, apparently not incommoded by the blaze of light, and take off small birds that are fluttering and beating themselves to death against the glass. They arrived off Flamborough in flocks of from ten to twenty. The Principal has never known them strike the glass, but has twice observed them perched on the gallery rail on the outside of the lantern. North of Flamborough they appear to have been equally numerous along the coast. On a rock close to the Hartlepool Lighthouse a fisherman early one morning in October saw eleven or more sitting together. In a letter lately received from Heligoland, Mr. Gätke says:—"The Shorteared Owls pick off the poor birds when they are dazzled by the glare of the lighthouse, but not those fluttering against the glass; but Thrushes on the wing—constantly one hears their dying cries when clutched by the nude talons of an Owl that had just flitted, like a phantom, noiselessly past the light." A friend writing from the Durham coast (November 23rd) says, "During the last bad weather our shores were thickly visited by the Woodcock or Shorteared Owl; there have not been so many for some years."

Great Gray Shrike.—Mr. Boyes informs me by letter that he saw this bird at Spurn on the 23rd of October. Early in the morning of the 24th he saw another sitting on a hedge-top near Kilnsea: this he shot; it proved an immature male. Later in the day he saw another at Spurn, which seemed a fine old bird: Mr. Boyes shot this also, but did not recover it, as it managed to conceal itself amongst the long grass. Mr. Boyes mentions ten others shot a day or two previously to his visit. Mr. Lewis also shot one about the same time; but this bird also, like the one Mr. Boyes shot, succeeded in concealing itself in the long sea-grass. In 'The Field' for November 18th a bird of this species is recorded as shot at Sproatley, Holderness, during the first week in November. The Great Gray Shrike may be considered a very regular immigrant to our Holderness and North Lincolnshire coast at this season. Tn the Lincolnshire marshes it is common enough to have a local name, "Mutterer," a name I conclude given from its note, which, as I have heard it, resembles the knocking of two pebbles together.

Redwing.—I saw the first here on the 8th of November. Curiously enough, the only three birds killed against the Whitby High Lights in October, were two Redwings and a Lark.

Fieldfare.—I saw the first here on the 9th of November, two or three only; on the 15th many, but all birds of the year.

Blackbirds.—Came in, as usual, in large numbers, the bulk of them about the 16th and 17th of October, also up to the end of the month and in November.

Ring Ouzel.—These birds were seen at Spurn, as Mr. Lewis informs me, about the 16th and 17th of October, when the large body of Blackbirds came. I have usually met with them sparingly in these marshes, and in some autumns, at the time the other Turdidæ arrive, very rarely, however, coming across an adult bird—the majority are young of both sexes and females:^[1] these are often difficult to distinguish amongst a hedgeful of Blackbirds, except by their grayer look and notes. Others, old birds, arrived at Spurn about the 28th of October—"old birds in full plumage," as Mr. Lewis says, "but not many." At the Flamborough Head Light, on the 30th of October, wind S.W., overcast, Starlings, Blackbirds, Ring Ouzels and Fieldfares came against the glasses. As a rule, the Starlings arrive a week before the Turdidæ. In Heligoland, Mr. Gätke says, "The Ring Ouzels came during the end of the month of October, which is four weeks too late for them here. There has been general disorder this year amongst the migrants." I have no notice of any Ring Ouzels north of Flamborough Head.

Golden-crested Wren.—I saw the first Goldcrests here on the 23rd of October. At Spurn they arrived about the 16th and 17th. At Flamborough, on October 20th, one pair of Golden-crested Wrens, male and female, accompanied by one Fire-crested Wren,^[2] a male, struck the glass of the lighthouse between ten and eleven o'clock at night; weather very cold and much rain; wind S.E. At the Hartlepool Lighthouse the most frequent bird coming against the glass in October was this species; wind blowing fresh from the N.E. and S.E.; direction of flight always westerly.

Snow Bunting.—The only Snow Bunting I have seen so far in our marshes was on the 27th of November—a single bird coming across the river from the direction of Spurn. Others were seen in small parties at Spurn, November 16th; and a correspondent, writing from Flamborough (November 22nd), says a flock had been seen on the headland all the week, in company with Larks. Last autumn when the Snow Buntings arrived at Flamborough they were accompanied by Crossbills, a gale from the N.E. blowing at the time, and very cold weather. Just seven years previously my informant had seen Crossbills and Snow Buntings mixed together flying across Lundy Island, and shot examples of both. This was November 22nd or 23rd; sky overcast, wind westerly, and very warm. Mr. W. Lewis, writing from Spurn, says, "This morning (November 24th), in my watch from 3 a.m., there have been great numbers round the lantern; wind S., moderate. A few Gray Plover struck; also Dunlin, Blackbirds and Larks."

Woodcock.—There was a large flight of Woodcocks at Spurn on the morning of October 28th; wind N.E., light and misty. Unusual numbers appear to have landed on our N.E. coast about this date. Others came against the glasses of the Hartlepool Lighthouse, at the same time, and under the same circumstances, as the Golden-crested Wrens.

Snipe.—The first flight came on the night of October 24th; the main body, undoubtedly, dining the severe weather of the 8th and 9th of November. On the latter morning I saw many small parties of two, three and six (but not exceeding the latter number), crossing the marshes from N.N.E. to S. and S.W. Saw the first Jack Snipe the same morning. Mr. Bailey, of Flamborough, had in October two Common Sandpipers killed against the glass of the lighthouse, and another which he calls Schinz's Sandpiper(?), also killed against the light. Perhaps we shall hear more of this last bird.

Swan.—On the 16th and 17th of October six were seen at Spurn; also a great many Ducks; wind S.E., moderate. Mr. Bailey, of Flamborough, says they have had numbers of Ducks along the coast.

Little Gull.—Two immature birds, now in the possession of a friend, were shot by Mr. Bailey off Flamborough Head in September. A mature Glaucous Gull was seen, and an immature one shot. There were great numbers of Manx Shearwaters off the headland during August and September, and Mr. Bailey has seen one Great Shearwater.

As a sequel, I will give, from the other side of the North Sea, a page from Mr. Gätke's note-book, showing the migration of birds across Heligoland during the last fortnight in October, 1876.

"Oct. 1876.—16th, 17th, 18th, 19th. East, very strong. C. Cornix, thousands; Sturnus, hundreds; Buteo, many; Lagopus, some; Musicus, abundant. These passed the island night and day.

20th. East, very strong. Cornix, thousands; Buteo, Lagopus, Nisus, very many; Sturnus, a great many; Cœlebs, thousands; Montifringilla, a great many; Musicus, many; Iliacus, some; Excubitor, two; P. major and cæruleus, some; Anthus cervinus, one.

21st. East, very strong. C. glandarius, thousands passing the island, some landed caught—coming, never ending; Cœlebs, countless; Montifringilla, a great many; Musicus, many; Iliacus, less; Major and Cæruleus, some; Nisus, some.

22nd, 23rd. East, strong. Glandarius, a. great many still; Nisus, some; C. palumbus, daily some; A. alpestris, many.

24th. Phylloscopus (?), seen in garden—rust-colour.

26th. W.S.W., calm. S. rubecula, thousands; Rufa, some; Superciliosa, one in my garden.

27th. W., calm.— 28th (N.W.) and 29th (W.), little breeze. T. torquatus (!!!) and iliacus, some; Anthus Richardi, one; Scolopax, a few; Accentor modularis, still some; Anas mollissima, two fine old males shot on 27th.

30th and 31st. N.W., storm, hail and rain. Scolopax rusticola, 10–12; T. pilaris, a great many; Strix flammea, about 10–12 during the month; Otus, repeatedly; Brachyotus, a great many.

November, first week. Thousands of Geese, Ducks, and Swans."

Mr. Gätke, writing on the 20th of November, says:—"Immense flocks of Jays have recently passed this island, a species that numbers amongst the rarest of Heligoland; and another, still rarer, is just now shot here for the first time—viz., a Magpie! A friend, on hearing this, writes, 'One would think the knowing bird had heard its Ornis was at last going to be published, and had made its appearance accordingly, that it might not be left out!'"

 

 

1. Dr. Saxby ('Birds of Shetland,' p. 65) says, "In autumn we are generally visited by females, each accompanied by two or more young birds."
2. I have not seen this bird: my informant, the Principal of the lighthouse, may have been mistaken. So-called Fire-crests captured on this coast I have invariably found to be old male Gold-crests. Professor Newton, in the new edition of Yarrell's 'British Birds' (vol. i., p. 459), points out the most obvious distinction between the two species: writing of the Fire-crested Wren, he says, "The black streak in which the eye is placed is the character by which this species can be more readily distinguished from the Golden-crested Wren."