During my visit to Mr. Hay, in Warwickshire, I received a lesson which I have since not failed to profit by. Myself and about a dozen of the flower of the Warwickshire riders, were on the down-wind side of Bowshot wood, when the fox broke, with the pack at his brush; and went straight away over a beautiful country, to the Edge Hills, ten miles distant, when they changed to a fresh one, and no one being near enough to stop them, away they went again, and many of the pack were never seen again till the next morning. Only about four men got well away, and their horses could not live near the hounds up the hill, and thus the mischief arose.

The conspicuous men in Mr. Hay's days in a quick thing werehimself, Messrs. Wyatt, H. Campbell, Sheldon, Fellowes, and Holland-the last-named gentleman, together with Mr. Patrick (of steeplechase celebrity), on a remarkable little mare-a phenomenon in short -and a young farmer by the name of Cockhill were all who could live with the pack in the run I am speaking of; and as they could not get on against the hill, it shows that the scent over this part of Warwickshire was, on that day, rather too good for the nags. Had the fox died at the foot of the hill, it would have been a ne plus ultra performance on the part of the pack, and all those who lost a chance to witness it, amongst whom was Mr. Hay, received a hint that was not likely to be lost upon them.

MR. FELLOWES (Senior.)

Mr. Hay was succeeded by Mr. Fellowes, a right good sportsman, and who, although a native of Norfolk, having married a " Warwickshire lass," had resided for several years in that sporting county. Not having hunted much in Warwickshire during his mastership, I am not equal to saying much of him in that character, from my own personal knowledge. I have reason to believe that his hounds showed more than an average of sport, and I never heard but one objection to himself as a master. He would now and then be tempted to sell his servants' horses, if a good price were offered, in consequence of their having distinguished themselves in a run. Lord Vernon's example, in refusing 900 guineas for his huntsman's three horses, should be borne in mind by all masters of hounds.

(To be continued.)

THE WOOD-PIGEON.

"'Tis sweet to hear the corncrakes crying,
Hear cusbats coo-see swallows flying,
The fishes leap, twin lambkins lying
Beside the yowes,

Or see the golden daylight dying

On fairie Knowes."

THERE are many birds, which although out of the protection of the Game Laws, are still objects of the sportsman's pursuit ;- and I know none better worthy his attention than the Wood-pigeon. Interesting as is every object in nature, doubly so must any thing be which, by associating the operations of the present with the remembrance of the past, carries the mind, in after life back to the scenes and sports of our youthful days. And how few of us there are who will not look back with delight in maturer years to those happy days when our sporting career commenced, and when the fieldfare and the lark, and at times a stray wood-pigeon, then considered a prize, filled the bag of the youthful gunner.

As I never consider time wasted or misemployed which is rationally passed in studying nature in any of her operations, I have spent many happy hours in watching the habits of the feathered race, and no bird possesses more interest in my eye than the wood-pigeon-our constant companion from the first dawn of spring to the dreary close of winter. As soon as Nature awakes from her long sleep, these birds return to their old breeding haunts; and at this season, when all abroad teems with joy, and it is a real pleasure to wander in the shady lane as one strolls down the side of the tall hedge-row, or by the quiet wood; now bursting forth in the luxuriance of spring, the ear is greeted with the " deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeon's note," as he cheers his mate from the tall fir, or toys in the air above the tree which contains his chief care and regard. When the young birds leave the nest the old ones lead them forth into the bean and pea fields (which have now lost all that luxuriance of blossom which so lately delighted the eye)—and long ere the morning's sun has dried up the dew from the grass, their repast is finished. They then seek shelter in the depth of the thicket from the heat of the midday sun, and there remain till the evening, when they return to their feeding grounds. It is not therefore to be wondered at that they should be regarded by the farmer with anything but a friendly eye; and in a wooded district where they are plentiful the damage these birds will cause to a field of corn which they visit, is astonishing. In vain does the scaring boy walk round and round the ripening corn, shouting at the top of his voice. The clappers and the rusty scaring gun are but little heeded, or if the birds do rise, it is

VOL. III.NO. XIII.-NEW SERIES.

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merely to seek in a quieter part of the field a fresh feeding place. The best way to shoot them at this time, and by which I have shot many a score, is for the fowler to station himself under any trees near the field which they frequent, and as the pigeons will always fly to them if disturbed, or before they commence feeding, to see that the coast is clear, he may have many a good shot as they soar above his head. All through the summer these birds are generally dispersed over the country, and may be observed in almost every field of corn during harvest. When the fields are cleared, and the last "Harvest Home" has sounded through the village lane, the bare stubbles afford them but little food, and they are compelled to seek sustenance in another district; and as soon as autumn sets in, the beech mast and acorn form their principal nourishment. In Hants, and the counties where the beech tree abounds, these birds appear in great quantities as the beech mast ripers; and in the olden time, when, owing to the nature of our country they were more abundant, White of Selborne mentions vast flocks of wild pigeons which used to frequent the Hanger, a large beech wood on the side of a hill above the village of Selborne. I have shot in this wood, and it was with deep feelings of pleasure that I wandered among the early haunts of this faithful naturalist.

Towards the close of autumn, when the chill November blasts, sweeping all before them, have shaken the last acorn from the leafless oak, and no food is left them in their native wilds, they again return to man, and the turnip fields become their chief resort. Should the weather be open they will manage pretty well, but in a severe winter, when the face of nature is overspread with snow, and the sleet drifts through the dark wintry sky, it will go hard with them, and they will then frequently seek the stack yard and feed with the domestic pigeon.

At all times on their guard, these birds rarely feed without a sentinel or two, which, perched on the leafless bough of some neighbouring tree, keep a good look out while the flock is committing sad havoc on the turnips below. The gunner, who has probably been in pursuit of them for many hours, steals down the ditch, fancying himself safe for a shot, as the birds are close under the hedge, and the sentinels appear not to notice him. He is within about a hundred yards. He cocks his gun and gently rises from the ditch to see their exact position, but this movement spoils all. The sentinel, now discovering his hostile intentions, gives the alarm. Up he flies, and the whole flock rise amidst the crash of a hundred wings, which sound like a roar of artillery through the clear frosty air. Not one remains, and the disappointed sportsman watches them as they wing their way high in the air to the distant wood, till the haze of the wintry noon shuts them from his view.

Throughout the whole winter, wherever their food is found, these birds congregate; and one would be inclined to think that many must migrate to our shores at the close of each season. But I do not imagine this to be the case; for though there appear to be many more at this time than in the summer, I think it is only because during the breeding season they are more generally dispersed; whereas in winter they congregate in flocks, and of course resort to those districts where their food most abounds. Though the wood-pigeon breeds in single pairs, it is a gregarious bird; and the flocks do not separate till towards the spring, when they retire to their breeding haunts. I have had good sport in shooting these birds on a bright moonlight winter's night, from their roosting trees. I have heard it asserted, that there is no better guard in a preserve against poachers than these birds, which being startled by the rustling of the branches as soon as the poacher enters the wood, immediately fly up, and thus disturb the pheasants. I never tried them in a thick wood, but I only know that in shooting them at night from some talloaks in a hedge row in my neighbourhood, a favourite roosting place, I have seldom known one to fly up till I fired, (and then they will directly settle again on a neighbouring tree,) though I always creep down the ditch bottom, of course at this season filled with dead branches and leaves.

Of the different varieties of the pigeon in the wild state four are met with in Britain. The cushat or ring-dove (columba palumbus), is the largest, and most common of the four. This bird builds on the branch of a tree (frequently in a fir) or in a hedgerow; and forms that rude flat nest, so well known to every countryman. The stock dove (columba oenas) comes next, and there is but little difference in the habits of the two, except in the breeding. The Stock dove is the smallest, is not so common, and much more local, is very similar in plumage, but wants the ring round the neck. Breeds in holes of trees, and is rarely met with in the northern counties, never I believe in the breeding season. The habits of both are alike. They flock together in the winter, their food is the same, and both, like all the pigeon tribe, lay two pure white eggs. The rock dove (columba livia), is considered. by most naturalists to be the parent stock of all our varieties of domestic pigeon; but I have great doubt as to this being the case. There is no doubt that our common dovecote pigeon and this bird are the same, their habits prove it, and the appearance of the two birds is so alike, that one can scarcely tell the difference. But 1 consider that the variety of the pouter, jacobin, barb, &c., which we breed in our pigeon lofts, must derive their origin from some foreign breed, probably unknown to our British naturalists. This is more than probable, as the pigeon is a foreign birdand many of the Asiatic and African breeds are subject to extraordinary varieties. However, this

is one of the mysteries of nature, at present hidden from our view, till we have much clearer evidence must still remain unravelled.

and

The rock dove is rarely met with in the inland counties; unlike the two former, these birds breed in flocks; as if in accordance with their wild character, choosing the wildest spots, generally in most inaccessible places in the cliffs on our coasts, and never in trees. They abound in the Orkneys, and the Western Isles, and I have seen them breeding in the Isle of Wight, and on the Bluff headlands of the Durham coast. I have had opportunities of examining the true wild rock dove, and though they certainly had all the characteristics of the common dove-house pigeon, there was a wildness and sharpness in their general appearance, which I never saw equalled in the latter, even in "Barber's or Clayard's best blue rocks." They are full as large as the stock dove, and our keepers assert, that they breed in the trees in Rockingham forest. I never for one moment believed it, being certain they confounded the two species; and a bird I killed from the nest satisfied me. The great distinguishing mark between the two is, that in the stock dove the back and upper tail coverts are ashen grey, while in the rock dove they are pure white. I never had an opportunity of examining the crop of the rock dove, but a friend of mine, an indefatigable naturalist, who examined one he killed on the Northumberland coast in September, found it filled with the seeds of the burr, a plant common on the coast. It is probable that these birds rarely congregate with the ring dove in the winter, but remain about their breeding haunts throughout the year. In the severe weather of 1840 and 1841, four of the blue rock-pigeons were sent me, shot by a keeeper, feeding with some common wood-pigeons. They were clearly the blue rock, but as I could not prove that they were not the dove-house pigeon, I could not authenticate them as the wild rock dove. The wild bird is of an uniform colour, and never subject to the varieties of the dove-house pigeon.

The Turtle Dove (Columba Turtar) comes last on our list, and as this bird is migratory, and very local, is the least common of the four. It is a complete Southern bird, and breeds sparingly in our southern counties, but is commonly shot in Kent, Surrey, and about Royston, in Cambridgeshire, from the corn fields in August and September, when about to leave our shores. The little turtle dove which we see in cages is not our British bird, but a foreign species.

The Passenger Pigeon-a North American bird, has been added to our British fauna, on account of a single specimen having been shot in Scotland. This is the bird which, according to Audubon, is shot in such amazing quantities passing over the pine forests of America, and I would recommend any one fond of the marvellous, to read his account of an "American pigeon battue."