CHAPTER XXIX 



THE SPOTTED FLY-CATCHER 



The irises are high in the dikes when the fly-catchers come 

 over the seas to build their mossy nests of moss, cobwebs, 

 horse-hair, and wool in the thick ivy climbing round the old 

 elm-trees surrounding the fenman's garden ; nor do they ever 

 leave their nest far. I have heard them early in April, but 

 the end of the month is a surer date for them to appear; 

 nor are they long about the little gardens abutting on the 

 Broads. Often they begin to build their nests in the cosy 

 corner between an elm sprig and the mossy, green, ivy-clad 

 trunk — green with the rain-paths of years — paths where 

 the soft water has run down from the spreading topmost 

 branches for many a season. 



Both these serious-looking sober little birds build the nest 

 and both sit by turns. From incubation-time all day long 

 through the breeding season you will see his speckled little 

 bosom flitting about the elm branches, or else sitting like 

 a red shrike upon an elm sprig, he watches with his big 

 solemn eyes for flies and moths flying in and out of the 

 ivy, and suddenly darts upon them as does a bird of prey, 

 seizing them and returning to his perch to look for more. 



Indeed, I think he builds in the ivy round the elms because 

 in the long spring and summer days this cool green winding- 

 sheet of the elm swarms with moths and flies, and the 

 young and old fly-catchers find they will not have far to 

 seek for their dinner. And in summer you may hear them 

 singing their sweet wren-like song, but more especially in 

 the thick sultry noontide or afternoon, when not a breath 



