THE ENGLISH ORTOLAN.

SAUNTERING one summer afternoon along a low slope of the South Downs, my attention was attracted by a fluttering under an upturned clod of turf. I stepped to the spot, and saw a wheatear entangled in a trap by a horsehair noose around its neck. The little thing was terribly alarmed at my presence, but pulling a penknife from my pocket I freed it With a touch of the blade, and in a flash it had flown out of sight. Then, in accordance with the custom, I settled my account with the proprietor of the trap by placing some

pence under the upturned sod of turf.

The South Down country is the summer home of the timid wheatear, a beautiful bird, with black wings and grey and white body plumage. Its sweet, low note of "far-far" and " titreu-titren " marks it as the softest singer among the merry and more musical songsters of the Downs. It is an excellent mimic, and the note of the male bird, particularly, is pretty. I have heard of wheatears being captured and kept in a cage, their song then being almost as perpetual as that of a canary. As a rule the wheatear conceals its nest—made of a mixture of moss, rabbits' fluff, feathers, sheep's wool, and grass—among the clods or fissures of rough ground. Sometimes a chalk-pit or deserted rabbit-warren is selected for the nest and its five or six eggs. Like the handrail, the female bird will make use of subterfuge when she thinks that her nest is in danger from passers-by. On being disturbed she will fly on well in advance of the prowler, and when he is some distance from her nest return to it by a long circular flight.

In various parts of the country the wheatear is known by such peculiar names as "chicken," " chuckbird," and " stone- chucker." " Fallowsmith," "fallowsmiter," " fallowfinch," " fallowchat," and " horsematch" are among the more curious titles given to the bird. The French call it motteux, from *toile, a clod. Its South Country name was supposed to come from its alleged habit of feeding on ears of wheat; but the idea of wheat forming any part of its food has long since been exploded. Another theory of the derivation of the name is suggested by the fact that the wheatear was found most plentifully at the time of the ripening of the corn. Probably, however, the real origin is due to the Anglo-Saxon equivalent of "white-rump," of which " wheatear " is thought to be a modern derivation, though it is considered by some authorities to be a corruption of " whitterer," i.e., " twitterer."

For hundreds of years the wheatear has been highly esteemed as a table delicacy, earning from gourmets the title of the "English ortolan," the flavour of which it is said much to resemble. Though the consumption of wheatears has very largely declined during late years, I am told that even now certain poulterers will not refuse an order to supply so rare a dainty, and he who is sufficiently heartless, and is not deterred by the question of expense, may still enjoy his wheatear pie with as quiet a conscience as he would relish a lark pudding.

Now Sussex is celebrated for seven good things, the delights of which have given rise to a proverb. These seven good things are a Selsey cockle, a Chichester lobster, an Arundel mullet, an Amberley trout, a Pulborough eel, a Rye herring, and a Born-ne (Eastbourne) wheatear ; but the most delicate of these is the Born-ne wheatear, which, says an old writer, is "the beat of its kind in this county or anywhere." Old Thomas Fuller in his "Worthies of England," writing on Sussex, says :— "Wheateares is a bird paculiar to this country, hardly found out of it. It is so called because fattest when wbest is ripe, whereon it feeds, being no bigger than a lark, which it equals in the fineness of its flesh, but far exceedeth in the fatness thereof ; the worst is, that being only seasonable in the heat of summer, and naturally larded with lumps of fat, it is spon subject to eorrupt, so that though abounding within forty miles of London, the poulterers there have no mind to meddle with them, which no care in carriage can keep from putrefaction. That palate man shall pass in silence, who, being seriously demanded his judgment concerning the abilities of a great lord, concluded him a man of very weak parts, because he oece saw him at a great feast feed on chickens when there were wheatoares on the table. I will add no more in praise of this bird for fear some female reader may fall in longing for it, and unhappily be disappointed of her desire."

Fuller was greater as historian and divine than naturalist, for in stating that the bird feeds on wheat he was very wide of the mark. The wheatear finds its food in inaects, grubs, beetles, small snails and spiders, and a certain winged ant.

The trade in wheatears was formerly a staple industry among the shepherds of the South Downs. These men would

make from five to fifty pounds a head during the summer months by the sale of wheatears to poulterers at the chief South Coast seaside resorts. The manner of trapping the bird was peculiar. A series of T-shaped shallow trenches, each about a foot long, was dug on the slope of a hill. The turf from each excavation was removed, and a horsehair springe was set at the inner end. The sod was then replaced on the top of the trap, grass downwards, a small opening being left at the lower extremity of the T by which the bird might enter. The wheatear owed its capture in these trap § to its excessive timidity. Its habit is to skim the ground in flight, and at the least alarm, such as the shadow cast by a cloud, it seeks shelter in the nearest hole or cranny. The shepherd's knowledge of this characteristic enabled him to invent the peculiar form of trap to which I have referred, and in the month of July, when the birds are most plentiful on the South Downs and the shadows of the clouds chase one another across the uplands, a shepherd would often take birds from his snares three or four times a day. Later in the year—during the months of August and September— a single shepherd has been known by means of these traps, or "coops" as they were commonly called, to capture between eighty and ninety dozen wheatears in a day ; and when the birds have assembled previous to migra- tion certain parts of the Downs have been honeycombed with traps.

Pennant states that when the trade in these birds was at its best eighteen hundred and forty dozen wheatears were annually ensnared by the shepherds in the Eastbourne district alone. In 1842 sixty dozen were sent to London in one day by the Eastbourne coach. According to the author of the "Complete History of Sussex," published in 1730, although

"Eastborn or Eborn is found in our maps and villares," its only claim to the attention of the reader was on account of its being "the chief place of catching the delicious birds, called Wheat-ear', which much resemble the French Ortelans I " John Dudeney, the learned shepherd of Lewes, where be became schoolmaster by reason of his marvellous mastery of Hebrew and other vehicles of learning, acquired during many lonely days spent on the Downs, Las left some interesting in- formation concerning wheatears. He states that when he was made shepherd at Kingston, near Lewes, in 1799, he received better wages than he had been accustomed to :—" Six pounds a year. I had also part of the money obtained from the sale of wheatears, though we did not catch them here in great numbers: a dozen or two a day, seldom more." Later on

Ducleney was removed to Westside Farm, Rottingdean. He continues :—

"The farm extending along the sea-coast I caught great numbers of wheatears during the season for taking them, which lasted from the ;piddle of July to the end of August. The !nest I ever caught in one day was thirteen dozen. From what I have heard from old shepherds, it cannot be doubted that they were caught in much greater numbers a century ago than of late. I have heard them speak of an immense number being taken in one day by * shepherd of East Dean, near Beaeby Head. I think they said he took nearly a hundred dozen ; so many that he could not thread them on crow quills in the usual manner, but took off

his rent:n:14re* and made a sack of it to pop them into, and his wife did the same with her petticoat. This must have been when there was a great flight."

Dndeney sold hie wheatears at 24. 6d. or 35. a dozen, though the standard price given by poulterers was is. sa. In 1665 the Rev. Giles Moore, a Sussex diarist, records that he bought two dozen at Lewes for is. But, as is usually the case, there Is no doubt that prices were governed by the laws of demand and supply.

In his interesting "Nature in Downland" Mr. W. H.

Hudson says :—

" There is one old Orin of poulterer? in Brighton whose custom it was to pay the shepherds for all the birds they had sent in at the end of the season. When pay-day arrived the shepherds would come in, and a very substantial dinner with plenty of beer would be served to them; and after the meal and toasts and songs every man would be paid his meney. At these yearly dinners, which were continued down to about 1880, as many as fifty shepherds have been known to attend. Yet this firm could not have had more than a third or a fourth part of the wheatears supplied by the shepherds to deal with."

A favourite method of cooking wheatears was to wrap each bird in vine-leaves and roast it. "Ortolan (i.e., wheatear)

pie" was one of the most fashionable dishes at Tunbridge Wells in 1720; and at an earlier date this delicacy played an important part in the life of one William Wilson, an early lord of the manor of Eastbourne. An old document declares that Wilson's attachment to the Royal cause being well known, Cromwell commanded Lieutenant Hopkins to take a detachment of Dragoons and search Wilson's house (Compton Place, the Sussex seat of the late Duke of Devon- shire). On Good Friday, 1658, the Roundheads arrived, and were hospitably received by Wilson's wife, at whose orders a large wheatear pie was placed before the party. The account continues :—

"The officer, it being quite a novelty to him, was equally amazed and delighted, and merrily insisted that all his military ,companions should taste of the rare repast, which they did with much jollity, going away much better pleased with their enter- tainment than the family were with their guests. While they were feasting, Mrs. Wilson (such is her own account of the trans- action) went went up to her husband, then sick in bed, who desired her to bring him a file of letters out of his closet. He took off one or more, and ordered her instantly to burn them, and to stir the ashes, and then call up the officer, which his wife accordingly did. No sooner was the officer come than he took hold of the file from which the burnt letters had just been taken, looked at the papers, and finding nothing, very complaisantly wished Mrs. Wilson joy that he had found nothing according to his expectations ; 'for had I,' said the officer, 'found anything =cordite to the informa- tion given in against him, Fey orders were to have taken him ctway."

Subsequently wheatears formed a conspicepus quartering in the Wilson coat-of-arms, for immediately after the Restora- tion Charles II. created the head of the Wilson family a Baronet ; and the King, having a great fondness for wheat- ears, Wilson supplied his Majesty's table very freely with the birds. Dr. Burton, writing to his daughter, informed her that he had heard that at a dinner given by the Earl of Dorset to the King and the Duke of York they had eaten twenty dozen wheatears.

Sometimes those who bought wheatears from the shepherds would visit the Downs and take the birds themselves froru the springes, leaving their market-price in the traps to be collected by the shepherds later in the day. Reading recently in "The Favourite Village," by James Hurdis, an almost forgotten Sussex poet, I came across the following references to this custom :— " When the feavered cloud of August day Flits through the blue expanse, The timorous wheatear, fearful of the shade, Trips to the hostile shelter of the clod, And where she sought protection finds a snare.

• ...... • •

Seized by the springs She flutters for lost liberty in vain, A costly morsel, destined for the board Of well-fed luxury, if no kind friend, No gentle pawner the noose dissolve, And give her to her free-born wing again.

To the feathery captive give release, The pence of ransom placing in its stead."

And so, remembering Hurdis, I paid the "pence of ransom" for the privilege of releasing the wheatear from the captivity of the T-tra.p in which I found it fluttering that summer afternoon on a lower slope of the South Downs. A. B.