CHAPTER XII 



GARDEN WARBLER 



When you walk along the green hedgerows, bright with 

 new-born leaves — hedges running on either side of the 

 grassy, spring}' lokes that lead from the marshes to the 

 upland — you may often hear this warbler's sweet song and 

 shriller chuckling call, but seldom will 3'ou see him — at least 

 I have rarely been able to catch sight of him, and when I 

 first made his acquaintance it was in an orchard in which 

 grew some alders down by the water. I stood hidden in 

 the alders, for I heard a bird then unknown to me, and 

 watched, and by good luck he came into open view, hopping 

 round the stems, stopping to sing every now and then, his 

 little throat swelling forth with song; but I have always 

 known him since, though he is very shy, flitting off directly 

 he gets sight of you, whether he be high up in a thorn bush 

 or in a garden catching caterpillars or stealing figs ; for he is 

 the first bird to find out that my topmost brown Turkey figs 

 are ripening; indeed, he tells me they are ripe, for he is sure 

 to have the first peck into the purple-brown skin, discovering 

 the pink flesh; then you may watch him, for his love for figs 

 overcomes his shyness. I have, in a Kentish garden, stood 

 beneath the leathery leaves with my glasses upon him for 

 many minutes, a matter I could never do in Norfolk. When 

 disturbed, he merely flew up to a large roomy walnut-tree 

 and watched till I had gone ; but he is no fig-robber like the 

 blackbird ; after all, the garden warbler filches but little, and 

 that generally over-ripe fruit. 



I have never found its nest in Norfolk, nor, in truth, seen it 



