CHAPTER VIII 



COCK-ROBIN 



"Bob," as the Broadsmen familiarly call this pert, boy-like 

 bird, is the most respected bird in the district ; for does not 

 the local rockstaff say, " Ef you rob Bob of his eaggs, 3^ou're 

 sure to break your arm ; " therefore Bob's eggs require no 

 Wild Birds' Protection Act in Broadland. Yet these red- 

 breasted birds do not multiply exceedingly. They are such 

 boys to fight — for their decrease is not due to bird-hunting 

 cats ; for though Pussy will kill Bob at times, as she will 

 the young swallows, mavises, and starlings, for mere sport, 

 yet Pussy despises Bob's flesh. Not so, however, with 

 larks, sparrows, and blackbirds : Puss eats them and licks 

 her whiskers afterwards. 



In March, when the black earth is bright with yellow 

 crocuses, or the porcelain-blue bells of the hyacinth, or later 

 with crimson and gold tulip cups, Bob's melancholy song is 

 to be heard in the hedgerows and bare coppices. Bob and 

 another fighting fiercely for the lady, waging fierce battle, with 

 loosely hanging wings and standing feathers. The rivals 

 fly at each other like young bucks, until one retires from the 

 contest, or is left dead amid the spring flowers, whilst the 

 perky little victor goes off with his mistress to his station — 

 chosen the previous autumn — and then the simple cradle of 

 moss, leaves, feathers, or, horse-hair is built in some hole 

 in a bank. When the familiar little eggs are laid, the hen 

 begins her duties, sitting very closely on her eggs, whilst the 

 pert little husband goes in search of black worms, wherewith 

 he feeds her upon the nest. 



