CHAPTER XI 



BLACKCAPS 



May has come in with green and gold; the river is em- 

 broidered with flowering chate, and the sallow plantings are 

 ereen and cool with tender leaves and musical with flies — as 

 the blackcaps seem to know, for there they are flitting to 

 and fro through the willow wands, their little bills cracking 

 sharply together as they catch the midges in their flight from 

 stole to stole. Hour after hour they feed in the little willow 

 grove, the cocks preferring the tops of the pliant wands, but 

 every now and then dropping to the ground, to be followed 

 by their sober-hued little mates. They seem never to catch 

 enough flies to make up for their exhausting journey across 

 the blue sea — for the weather is fine and clear. 



You must look well at them and listen to the sweet, little 

 song, for you will rarely hear them in the Broad district ; 

 and if you find their nest thereabouts, consider yourself 

 lucky, for I have never yet seen their eggs in that watery 

 land ; the birds themselves seem rare enough. 



