JANUARY 7TH.

THE BLUE TITMOUSE OR NUN.-(Parus cæruleus.)

THIS pretty bird may now be seen in our gardens, shrubberies and orchards, intently searching over the various trees for food,

With his head awry, and his half-closed eye,
As much as to say "I see;

I see the maggot within the green bud,
You cannot, although your sight may be good;
I'm sharper than you, for I'm seeking for food,
As busy as busy can be.-Adams' British Birds.

turning rapidly round and round the branches, especially of the rose trees, carefully prying into every crevice with his head downward, diligently seeking, after the drollest manner, for the eggs of Aphis and other insects, and seemingly so intent upon his work, that Tom is heedless of close observation.

Tom

The Blue Tit is a most cheerful, active little fellow, in a suit of blue and yellow livery, with a necktie of pale purple, or lilac. White describes the bird as exceedingly hostile to all invaders of its home, as hissing like a snake, and driving its sharp bill into the hand introduced into its warm and cozy nest with the spirit and determination of a rifleman. is not only a courageous bird, but has the reputation of being an impudent rogue as well-of tapping at the hives of the bees, and when an angry insect rushes out to see what is the matter, snapping it up for its pains: hence it is called "Bee Biter." It was not unusual in former days for churchwardens to pay out of the public rates so much per dozen for the heads of our vivacious friends; their destruction being considered a public good. More accurate observation has, however, shown that their labours are most beneficial, instead of injurious. The bird, it is true, may occasionally pick off a few buds of trees, but this is done in dislodging the insects or eggs surrounding the bud, for, although, when sore pressed, Tom does not refuse vegetable food, yet, that he greatly prefers animal food is shown by the evident gratification and zest with which he picks a bone.

JANUARY 8TH.

COMMON POLYPODY FERN.-(Polypodium vulgare.)

It is usual to suppose that there can be little or nothing in the out-of-door aspect of Nature during what is called "the dead winter months" to interest, instruct, or amuse the observer. Vegetation appears at rest, the insect world has vanished from view, the feathered tribes are dumb, reptiles and animals hybernating all Nature, indeed, appears hushed to rest. The landscape has been stripped of all its freshness and verdure; and though King Frost may have lifted his iron hand from the earth, and the sun may occasionally smile with genial warmth, if we enter the woods the deep shadows are gone; we look upward unchecked to the cold, grey winter sky, and the keen winds pipe their shrill music through the naked branches of the trees; yet, though everything around may appear at first view withered and barren, on closer observation there is abundant evidence to testify to us that Nature is neither "dead nor asleep," but busy with a thousand preparations for the freshness of the coming spring, the beauty of the summer, or the fruitfulness of autumn.

There is ever something to interest the true lover of Nature at the most barren season. As we look up the steep acclivities of the glen, and mark the boles of ancient trees green with velvet mosses or fringed with hanging lichens, we know that there are there forms of elegance and beauty; or if we contemplate the decaying remnants of trees torn by some long past storms and left to decay, we see fungi of the most wondrous form and brilliant colour, covering the ruin with beauty. We have before us the naked trunk of an old tree, still holding to its rooting-place, branchless and straight as a pillar; from the top springs forth a graceful coronet of ferns, that reminds you of a palm tree; the beautiful fronds that droop from the summit on either side are those of the common evergreen polypody, which has here escaped the severe frosts, and, finding a fitting soil in the decaying timber, puts forth an unusual luxuriance. The long lance-shaped leaves are cut in from the margin on either side nearly to the mid-rib--on the upper halves of the backs of the fronds appear numerous golden spots; these are the spore cases, where the myriads of

minute seeds are held together; in the polypodys the seed cases are always circular-if we hold a frond between the eye and a strong light we see that the veins run to each of these spore cases.

This graceful fern roots readily in artificial rockwork, and becomes very ornamental, remaining green all winter long.

JANUARY 9TH.

THE WOODCOCK.-(Scolopax rusticola.)

"Now in the brake the Woodcock seeks the springs,
The snipe the sedge."

THE Woodcock is one of our most esteemed winter visitors. The flesh is of excellent flavour, and has been so esteemed from ancient times-it has been frequently characterised as the "finest game for the table." The birds not unusually arrive in considerable numbers during night at the end of autumn, sheltering amid the brake and copse of the coast the following day, and then pursuing their migration inland to copse, wood, or forest, preferring those localities offering thick cover, with proximity to soft marshy sands. The bird is very shy; it lies all day concealed in the cover of the woods, resorting towards nightfall to the springs and soft marshy bottoms to feed. The bill of the bird, from three to four inches long, is thrust into the ground, and, notwithstanding the absence of light, it discovers its prey without difficulty, the bill being so sensitive that the smallest worm is picked up. The flight of the bird is slow and heavy; when flushed it usually takes a straightforward flight, and thus readily falls before the experienced sportsman.

The upper plumage of the bird is of reddish brown, mixed with pale yellow or grey; wings much darker, the breast and under parts of dusky white, mixed with brown. It is somewhat difficult to distinguish the bird from the snipe, but as soon as it rises from the ground the white tips of the tail feathers become conspicuous and mark the difference, the tail of the snipe being of a sombre brown.

It is said that the trail of the Woodcock may be discovered by the leaves which have been turned over in its search for

worms, the leaves being laid in even rows on either side of its path. A few pairs of the birds remain with us all summer long, breeding in some favourite locality. The old birds exhibit a remarkable care of their young, transporting them, if need be, from danger by aid of feet and beak to places of greater security. An idea has been entertained that in peculiarly favourite spots a certain number of Woodcocks are always found; that, in short, whenever any of the birds fall before the sportsman's gun, the same number of birds is again immediately made up in some mysterious manner-a notion that is not countenanced by any experienced keeper we have known.

JANUARY 10TA.

THE HOUSE SPARROW.-(Pyrgita domestica.)

"Thievish and clamorous, hardy, bold, and base:
Unlike all others of the feathered race"-

is the harsh verdict passed upon our friend the House Sparrow. The bold impudence laid to the charge of the bird is simply its familiarity, its desire for the friendship and protection of man. Look at the habits of the Sparrows: they build under the eaves of man's roof, are ever busy around his dwellingfollow his footsteps even into the crowded streets of the city, apparently never fearing, though always persecuted. Governments have decreed their annihilation; churchwardens have dealt extensively in their heads; every lad deems himself commissioned to shoot at sparrows; but, as if all this was not enough, the public are entreated by public advertisement to favour the Sparrows with poisoned wheat, that "kills them only on the spot."

The

We cannot say that Sparrows are void of offence. horticulturist and agriculturist suffer to some extent; the evil prevented is, however, doubtless greater than that suffered from their depredations. The translator of "Bechstein's Cage Birds" adds the following note to a description of the Sparrow:

"The destruction of Sparrows has been so great an evil in the countries where Government had ordered it, that it has been found necessary to rescind the order. The injury they do to the corn is something, certainly, but it may be exagge

rated; besides, ought not these useful creatures to be paid?" That they are highly useful no one can doubt who is in the least familiar with the habits of the bird. During the spring and summer months Sparrows destroy many millions of noxious insects. We have watched their unwearied industry in this respect, and have thus long since tolerated the damage done, for the good effected.

The Sparrow is sooty and dingy in the city, of a clean fawn or brown in the country. Though not distinguished by its song, it would appear to have the power of imitation. Barrington states that he educated a nestling Sparrow under a linnet, but within hearing of a goldfinch, and that the song of the Sparrow was a mixture of the notes of the two. In confinement, under fair treatment, the Sparrow becomes very familiar and attached. Nor is the bird devoid of good feeling, for many anecdotes attest its sagacity as well as friendly offices towards its own race.

We like to hear in early morning the merry chirp of the Sparrow commencing its cheerful chatter with the first beams of morning; occasionally their noise is somewhat vociferous when holding a court over an offender. The crow usually punishes the offender with death; the Sparrow merely scolds, with an occasional peck. In spring and autumn they hold great assemblies in some convenient shelter towards sundown, when each individual bird seems desirous of drowning his neighbour's voice in his own noise.

JANUARY 11TH.

ANNUAL MEADOW GRASS.-(Poa Annua).

SPRINGING up in every neglected spot of loose earth, greening the edges of our footpaths in the less frequented parts of the city, blooming all winter long under the shelter of every wall, despite frost and snow, the Annual Meadow Grass may well be called one of the common things of earth; and as such may possibly be despised and neglected. Yet it is to this humble plant that we owe that universal verdure so characteristic of the northern parts of the world, and especially of our own land—a charm which certainly compensates for some of the