The Ortolan, (_Emberiza hortulana_,) which is another species of the same genus, is common in the central and southern provinces of Europe, where it is thought exquisitely flavoured as an article of food. When first taken it is frequently very lean, but if supplied with abundance of food, it is said to be so greedy, that it will eat till it dies of repletion. [Illustration: THE WHEATEAR, AND WHIN CHAT. (_Saxicola ænanthe_ and _S. rubetra_.)] THE WHEATEAR is one of our earliest visitants, and may be found in every part of Britain. In the North, it generally frequents heaps of stones, ruins, or the dry stone walls of burial-grounds, and though it is a very handsome bird, and in the early season sings sweetly, its haunts have obtained it a bad name. The common alarm-note resembles the sound made in breaking stones with a hammer, and as it utters that note from the top of the heap which haply covers the bones of one who perished by the storm, or his own hand, popular fancy has not unnaturally associated the Wheatear with the superstition that belongs to the place of graves. Beneath that heap of stones, or in some neighbouring fallow, its nest may be discovered, formed of moss and dried grass, lined with hair, feathers, or wool, and containing five or six eggs of a delicate bluish white. These birds congregate on the southern downs about the middle of July; they are then caught in vast numbers, in horse-hair nooses, which are set between two pieces of turf turned against each other. _The Whin Chat_ is a beautiful bird, compact in form, with a rich and elegant plumage. Its song, which is peculiarly soft and sweet, may be heard in spring on the bushy margins and gorse of extensive heaths. Its nest, constructed in thick tufts of grass and under bushes, is most carefully concealed. It is usually approached by a labyrinth to which the rising of the bird affords no clue, and it may long be sought in vain, though perhaps not more than a yard distant all the time. The eggs are bluish green, without any spots, and are never more than six in number. The following lines, addressed to the English Ortolan, or Wheatear, by Mrs. Charlotte Smith, allude to the foolish timidity of that bird: “To take you, shepherd boys prepare The hollow turf, the wiry snare, Of those weak terrors well aware, That bid you vainly dread The shadows floating over downs, Or murmuring gale, that round the stones Of some old beacon, as it moans, Scarce moves a thistle’s head. And if a cloud obscure the sun, With faint and fluttering heart you run Into the pitfall you should shun, And only leave when dead.” [Illustration: THE SPARROW. (_Passer domesticus._)]