133
THE BIRDS OF ESSEX.
long a number of years the same Raven's nest was tenanted. The birds appeared
to build the new nest on the top of the old one, until the bulk of the whole would
almost equal that of the body of a large cart."
The Rev. J. C. Atkinson writes (36. 86) :
" The chosen tree soon comes to be called the ' Raven-tree.' One such accu-
mulation of nests I knew, as a boy, in Essex, and after a stiff climb succeeded in
reaching it. I did it in jeopardy, however, for the Ravens were very bold, and
every moment I expected they would assail me, in spite of the short bludgeon I
had suspended to my wrist. The appearance below the nest of the farmer in whose
fields the Raven-tree grew, decided the question—perhaps he frightened the Ravens
as well as threatened me ; perhaps they knew he came as their protector —anyhow
I did not get my egg, although I had actually had it in my hand."
Mr. Atkinson informs me that this " Raven-tree " stood in Great Wigborough
parish, about three-quarters of a mile N.E. from the church. Mr. J. H. Hills of
Prested Hall, Feering, informs me that a large elm there, known as " the Raven-
tree " was occupied up to about 1840. He occasionally saw Ravens about for some
twenty-five years later, but not building. Mr. Hope has occasionally heard its
croak in the summer months, and has seen fresh birds on the coast about the mid-
dle of September. Mr. Kerry says it is very rare round Harwich, though he has
seen two at Dovercourt.
The following graphic account of the storming of a Raven's nest, near Earl's
Colne, was communicated to Mr. Seebohm by Mr. Edmund Capper (45. i. 536) :
"It was a splendid day in March, warm for the time of year, as we wandered'
through the preserves, crossed some fields, and entered the copse in which we
understood the Ravens had built their nest. It was just such a spot as one could
have fancied a Raven might have selected for its home—a large, well-preserved
copse, with densely thick undergrowth, together with little patches of open glade
in which were a few tall elms and other trees. On the afternoon of our visit, it
was intensely silent ; the sun was bright in the heavens and only the cooing of
the Ring Doves and the whirring of the Pheasants and other game, served to
give evidence of animal life in the wood. We silently entered, creeping along
the glen up to its centre ; but, so little did we see of the objects of our search, that
we began to fear that we had missed the right plantation ; when, all at once,
we came to a little clearing in the middle of the copse, and there, straight before
us, on the top of an immense elm, was the Raven's nest. The hen slipped off
the moment we emerged from the undergrowth, and we did not see her again ; but
the cock instantly flew down towards us, with a menacing bark, to give us battle.
We were well acquainted with his complacent pruk, pruk, as he used to sail
over the valley [of the Colne] in his daily rambles ; but this was an angry hoarse
growl. The nest had been frequently robbed, and he had grown bold from ex-
perience.
" We were soon at the foot of the tree, and, throwing a line over the lowest
available bough, were soon in a position whence we could ascend further, aided by
our hands and feet. The nest was at an immense height. As we drew nearer to
it, the Raven became bolder, and we had to stop occasionally to menace him. At
times he must have been within a few yards of us, sailing from one tree to another,
and darting at us as he passed. At last we reached the nest—a large structure of
twigs of many years' accumulation, very compact and very difficult to reach round,
it was built almost at the top of the tree, in a fork at the end of a bough, and in
a position not very safe to hold on by. With care, cap between our teeth to keep
our friend off, we got one hand over the nest and could just balance ourself suffi-
ciently to look over its edge. There, to our delight, on the lining of sheep's
wool and fine fibre, rather deep down, lay three fresh eggs, just like the ones in
the second figure of Hewitson's third edition. By great care and by keeping the
bird at bay with our handkerchief, we succeeded in getting them safely down. We
slowly retired as we came, the cock bird tearing off the twigs and driving us before
him, with ruffled feathers, savage barks, and short menacing sallies; and it was
not until we were at some little distance from his nesting-place that we really felt