The imported gulls, ducks and geese and moorhens, which number seven or eight hundred, never wander from the Serpentine, and are always ready to welcome pieces of bread or biscuit, have become the most domesticated, and therefore the most commonly known. The wildfowl live largely on fish, which accounts for these seldom reaching more than three ounces in weight in the Serpentine. There is no place in the length and breadth of England where birds are so certain of being unmolested as in London, in spite of its six or seven million inhabitants, and on the whole they thrive well. The health of the captive birds in the Zoological Gardens at Regent’s Park shows that the sootiness of the air is no hindrance to their prosperity. Apart from the sparrows, which of course are everywhere, and in the parks seem to attain their highest development in self-complacency and impudence, the wild birds most frequently seen are the starlings. Darker than the sparrow, and two or three times their size, but smaller than the speckled thrush, they can readily be identified by their movements, as, generally in little droves, they run rapidly over the grass with heads down, pecking here and there. A good many thrushes are also about, but they are less frequently seen than in St. James’s Park, which for its acreage is perhaps the richest in bird-life of any of the open spaces of the Metropolis. This doubtless arises from the fact that all round the lake, save in one small area, a wide strip of the bank is railed in and sacred from intrusion by the wayfarer. The thrushes nest regularly and sing beautifully at times; but they are shy and unapproachable. Other visitors are blackbirds. Less companionable than the starlings, they are never seen in droves, but apparently live a solitary life, and, in cold weather, fieldfares and red-wings arrive. The parks, however, are at no time rich in berries, and their visits are short. Ravens are also welcomed. Mr. T. Digby Piggott, whose _London Birds_ is one of the most delightful books on bird life, mentions that in April one year a pair of chaffinches were to be seen very busy collecting moss for a nest between Victoria Gate and the fountain. Two blue-tits were at the same time carefully investigating the trees close by, evidently with the same views. Cole-tits, too, occasionally show themselves in the gardens. House martins in plenty build about the ornamental waters; swallows, and more rarely swifts and the little brown sand-martins, which may be seen flying over the surface of the Serpentine, Mr. Piggott also includes among the residents or casual visitors to Hyde Park. Indeed, many of the birds which formerly haunted the metropolis when it was smaller—I dissent altogether from the common mis-statement that old London was cleaner than it is now, chimneys notwithstanding—have of late years re-appeared in the parks. No doubt there would be more but for the shortage of small insect life.