A COMMUNITY OF ROOKS.
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."]
Six,—The article, " On the Verge of Spring," in the Spectator of March 15th, induces me to offer, in the hope that you may think them worthy of insertion, a few notes which I have made on a colony of rooks established close to my windows. About ten days ago, two rooks arrived, and perched on a large elm, where they rested for some little time. They then started separately, circling round and apparently examining various trees, on some of which they would rest for a minute or so, each on his own account. They would then return to the tree on which they originally alighted, caw a good deal, evidently in consultation, rest a while, and then repeat the same process. Occasionally, as soon as they met, after a little cawing, they would go together to the same tree, apparently one as to which one of them had some doubts. From it they in- variably went back to their original perch, and had a little consultation before indulging in any further examination. On the second day they decamped. Two days after, a party of six or eight rooks arrived. 1 presume my old friends were of the number, and that they had given a satisfactory report at head-quarters, for the whole party settled on the tree originally selected by the two ; they kept circling round from time to time, examining the place generally, but not lighting on the trees as the two had done, but always returning to their own billet to rest and chatter. Next day a large contingent arrived, and were greeted with loud cawings by the advanced guard, who met them in the air, and apparently gave them instructions as to where they were to build, for they at once settled down in pairs on the various trees, and next day they commenced to build. One pair settled on a tree very near my window; but they evidently did not like the position, so they shifted, with a twig or two, to another tree. The moment they did so, the whole body of rooks rose from every tree round, and, making a terrible uproar, drove them away from the tree to which they had moved. Several times the pair essayed a move to the tree which they apparently fancied, but each time with the same result. The whole body of rooks rose, and, with angry cawings, drove them away. That par- ticular tree was either reserved for some couple not yet come from their honeymoon, and not prepared to build, or it was considered an undesirable tree, or the corvine pair had offended in some particular, and were singled out for punishment. The pair next day began to build in the tree near my window on which they had first alighted, and on Sunday morning I noticed that their nest was progressing rapidly. However, on my return from church, I saw with surprise that the nest had been quite demolished, I presume by the other rooks, not a twig left, and one of the builders was sitting hunched up on the place where the nest had been, looking the picture of misery. They have begun to build again in the same spot, but I notice that, whereas at first both birds were equally busy bringing materials for the nest, now one of them is always on guard over it. I do not know whether rooks always inspect their building-ground before commencing operations, as I have described, or whether, this rookery being in the town, they consider it desirable to do so, fearing lest the trees may have been weakened in any way since their last visit, or that the erection of new houses around may have made the location undesirable for them.—I am, Sir; &c.,
Eastbourne, March 17th. W. H. W. H.
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