BIRDS OF THE PEAK 125 



same rarity in the person of a tradesman of the town, 

 a Mr. Micah Salt, who had studied the birds of the 

 district all his life. But not in books; he did not 

 read about birds, he observed them for his own 

 pleasure and it was a pleasure to him to talk about 

 them, but it went no further. He did not even make 

 a note; bird-watching was his play — a better outdoor 

 game than golf, as it really does get you a little 

 forrarder, and does not make you swear and tell 

 lies and degenerate from a pleasant companionable 

 being to an intolerable bore. 



It was through his advice that I went to stay on 

 Axe Edge, where I would find all the birds I wanted 

 to watch, and where it seemed to me on first going 

 on to the moor that about five-sixths of the bird life 

 consisted of two species — cuckoo and meadow pipit. 

 At the low-roofed stone cabin where I lodged a few 

 wind-torn beeches had succeeded in growing, and 

 these were a great attraction to the moorland cuckoos 

 and their morning meeting-place. From half-past 

 three they would call so loudly and persistently and 

 so many together from trees and roof as to banish 

 sleep from that hour. And all day long, all over the 

 moor, cuckoos were cuckooing as they flew hither 

 and thither in their slow, aimless manner, with 

 rapidly beating wings, looking like spiritless hawks, 

 and when one flew by a pipit would rise and go after 

 him, just to accompany him, as it appeared, a little 

 distance on his way. Not in anger like some of the 

 small birds, even the diminutive furze-jack who 

 cherishes a spite against the cuckoo, but in pure 



