kinds, and the old pollard-willow heads a favourite nesting-place.
Worcestershire people have some very curious names for birds, and some
of these are also heard in Hampshire and Dorset. The green woodpecker
is the "stock-eagle," "ekal," or "hickle," both in Worcestershire and
Hampshire, and the word survives too in "Hickle Brook" in the Forest,
and in "Hickle Street," a part of Buckle Street in Worcestershire. As
a boy I once marked a green woodpecker into one of the round holes we
see quite newly cut by the bird in an oak; getting a butterfly net I
clapped it over the hole, caught the bird, took it home and placed it
in a wicker cage. Then, returning to the tree with a chisel and
mallet, I cut a hole about a foot below the entrance to the nest, only
to find young birds instead of the eggs for which I had hoped. I went
home to see how my captive was getting on; she was gone, and her
method of escape was plain, one or two of the wicker bars being neatly
cut through. I had forgotten the power of "stocking" of a
"stock-eagle," for that is the meaning of the prefix in the name.

The laughing cry of the green woodpecker, or "yaffle," as the bird is
by onomatopoeia called in some parts, is regarded as a sign of rain. I
doubt whether it should be always so interpreted, for I know it is
sometimes a sign of distress or call for help, having heard it from
one in full flight from a pursuing hawk. Other curious local names of
birds in Worcestershire are "Blue Isaac" for hedge sparrow,
"mumruffin" for long-tailed tit, "maggot" for magpie, and the heron is
always called "bittern" (really quite a distinct bird). There are
innumerable rhymes as to the signification of numbers where magpies
are concerned, but the most complete I have heard runs thus:

"One's joy, two's grief,
Three's marriage, four's death,