The Landrail or Corncrake. — (Crex Pratensis.)
Sportsmen who during the early part of September follow their “birds” into seed—clover, rape, or mustard—seldom fail in such places to pick up a Landrail or two, and add in this way a pleasing variety to their bag. The appearance of a Rail usually gives rise to some comment, and not unfrequently to an expression of surprise that a bird of such skulking habits and apparently of such weak flight should be able to leave the country periodically, and return to it. That it does so, however, is certain. It arrives here towards the end of April, and remains with us till the end of September. During May and part of June its incessant craking note is constantly reminding us of its presence; and if in July and August its silence has caused us for a time to forget it, we renew acquaintance once more in September, when in quest of nobler and more important game. After that month we may look for it almost in vain, for, although a Landrail now and then turns up during the winter months, its appearance at such times is exceptional, the great majority of these birds having left our shores before the first day of pheasant shooting has come round. We can only account for the appearance of Landrails in winter by supposing them to be individuals of a late brood, unprepared to leave at the proper time, or wounded birds unable to take part in the autumnal migration. In Ireland, however, their occurrence in winter and early spring has been noticed so much more frequently than in England, that a good naturalist there, Mr. Blake Knox, has suggested that the bird hybernates. Writing in the “Zoologist” for 1867, at page 679 he says: “I cannot divest myself of the belief that the Corncrake hybernates, notwithstanding my having found it repeatedly dead in the sea, both during autumn and spring, which many would say should prove migration to the most sceptical. I do not for one moment doubt that it leaves Ireland in numbers in the autumn, but where does it go? Does it hybernate where it goes to? Is it to be met with anywhere in numbers, flying or running, during our winter? Does it only crake in its spring or summer haunts? In support of hybernation, we have the great amount of fat, coming on in winter (Corncrakes often burst from fat when they fall on being shot), which all hybernating animals attain; the number of uninjured and healthy birds found in Ireland during winter, their peculiar skulking habits at this season, the old hollow ditches they frequent, their peculiar apathy and disinclination to fly, and their early appearance without ‘craking’ (I have seen them in the middle of March) along the sedges of rivers, which would be the first places they would make for after their winter rest. I do not see why hybernation of birds is so much scouted, for scores of animals and millions of insects do so. Many fishes, too, become so torpid that you may fish for weeks and not get one, yet some fine day dozens of the kind you look for will reward your patience; still you have been told or read somewhere that that species migrates from our shores in autumn “to seek more genial skies,’ and that is why they are not caught in winter. The subject is very far from being absurd, though many have considered it equally so with ‘Corncrake turning to Water-rail.’ I knocked down a ditch bank some years ago in January, and turned out three living Corncrakes, and ate them too. In the year 1861, during November and December, I used frequently to turn out of a particular hole one of these birds; I caught it at last one night in the hole—or nest I might say, for it was thickly bedded with leaves from a neighbouring dunghill, on which beech leaves had been thrown; but I let it go after some time—in honesty, not through kindness, but because I could not help it, for it could pass through any hole, almost, as Paddy used to say, “as limber as a glove.’ I could also state many instances of dogs chasing Corncrakes in winter to holes, and in one case remember how nearly I was summoned for tearing down a man’s ditch bank ‘in pursuit of rats,’ as he said, though he had two eyes and saw the bird run from hole to hole. More learned men than he may have often thought the same thing. Hybernating, in my view, would not mean a dead, torpid state. I should consider it a sleepy, inactive state—a lying-up in cold weather, and a temporary arousing during genial days; and in this state I have met the Corncrake in winter.”
Before one can accept the hybernation theory, however, some stronger evidence in its favour would be desirable—the discovery, for instance, of a Landrail in a torpid state from which it might be observed to recover. At present I do not remember to have heard of such an instance, and, so far as one’s knowledge of the bird extends, it seems far more probable that it seeks holes in banks and old walls merely for shelter and warmth, in the neighbourhood of which it contrives to find sufficient nourishment to keep it alive, until such time as the increasing warmth of spring brings increase of insects and molluscous food. An examination of the alimentary system of the Water-rail (Rallus aquaticus) shows that this bird is no better fitted to withstand an English winter than its cousin the Landrail, and yet it is frequently found by sportsmen upon Snipe-ground at the height of the cold season. Its good condition too at this time testifies to there being a sufficient supply of food, which should be equally obtainable by the Landrail.
The nature of this food is miscellaneous—slugs and snails of several species, small freshwater mollusca, worms, leeches, beetles, the seeds of various weeds, and tips of grass blades; in addition to which the stomach is usually found to contain numerous small particles of gravel or grit as aids to digestion.121
In its search for this kind of food, the Landrail must traverse daily an immense tract of ground, for which, however, its strong muscular legs and large feet are well adapted.
For six months at least in the year it appears to be very generally distributed throughout the British Islands; and in Ireland, owing to the more humid climate and the general prevalence of meadow land, it is thought to be even commoner than in England. As regards Scotland, the latest authority on the subject, Mr. Robert Gray, in his “Birds of the West of Scotland,” says: “There is, perhaps, no Scottish bird more generally distributed than the familiar Corncrake. It is found in every district, cultivated and uncultivated, on the western mainland, from the Mull of Galloway to Cape Wrath, and also over the whole extent of both groups of islands, and all the rocky islets on the west coast, extending to Haskeir Rocks, the Monach Islands, and St. Kilda. It will, in fact, take up its abode and rear its young on such places as are almost exclusively frequented by birds dependent on the sea for their daily subsistence, all that can be looked upon as an attraction being but an occasional patch of grass and a moist hollow, to remind it of the distant meadow where, perchance, it had its haunts the previous summer. I have observed it in the uninhabited islands of the Hebridean seas, and have heard it near the summit of Ailsa Craig, rasping its eerie cry after nightfall, as a rude lullaby to the Gulls hatching on the grassy verge of a precipice.”
This is by no means the limit of its haunts northward and westward; for besides being found in Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, and the Faroe Isles, it actually visits Greenland, and on several occasions has been met with on the eastern coast of the United States, whither it must have travelled, doubtless, viâ Greenland. A single instance is on record of its having been shot in the Bermudas,122 although this group of islands is distant from Cape Hatteras—the nearest point of the North American coast—about 600 miles. After this, English sportsmen need scarcely be surprised at its ability to cross the Channel.
Before the end of September it has commenced to migrate southwards on its way to its winter quarters in Algeria, Egypt, Asia Minor, and Palestine. It is said to be rare in Portugal, and seen on passage only in Spain, touching also at the Azores. It goes, however, much further south, as will be seen presently. Signor Bettoni includes it amongst the birds which breed regularly in Lombardy;123 and Messrs. Elwes and Buckley note it (“Ibis,” 1870, p. 333) as found in Epirus and Constantinople. In Corfu it is met with sparingly in April and September, on its spring and autumn migrations. A single instance is on record of its having been shot in Oudh;124 but Mr. Blyth informed me that he knew of no other authority for it as an Indian bird, although he had seen specimens from Afghanistan. South of the Equator the Landrail penetrates to Natal (cf. Gurney, “Ibis,” 1863, p. 331), and, according to Mr. Layard (“Birds of South Africa,” p. 338), a solitary specimen has been procured in Cape Colony.
Mr. Ayres, who has shot it in Natal, writing of its habits (“Ibis,” 1863, p. 331), says: “Having been once flushed, it is a difficult matter to put them up a second time out of the long grass; for, besides running with great swiftness, they have a curious method of evading the dogs by leaping with closed wings and compressed feathers over the long grass some three or four yards, and then, running a short distance, they leap again. The scent being thus broken, they generally evade the most keen-scented dogs; and so quickly are these strange leaps made, that it is only by mere chance that the birds are seen.” Many an English sportsman can testify to their power of evading good dogs, although they may not quite know how it is done. Nor is this the only way in which the Landrail displays its cunning. If surprised suddenly and caught, it will often feign death, and remain perfectly stiff and motionless for several minutes, to all appearance dead, but in reality only waiting for an opportunity to steal off unobserved. I have known two or three instances in which this ruse has been practised with success upon unsuspecting naturalists. Those who intend, therefore, to investigate the subject of hybernation should be on their guard against what at first sight might strike them as an instance of torpidity.