CHAPTER XLVII 



THE JAY 



When the coppices resound with the challenges of the 

 cock-pheasants, the surviving jays will be heard shrieking 

 their sharp, shrill notes, that startle every head of game, 

 sending the challenging cock-pheasants into the under- 

 growth, and startling the hares from their forms, often 

 driving them straight towards the intruding wight. Far 

 and near, over the still waters of the lagoon, you may hear 

 that shrill voice in early spring when the gladen is green, 

 in summer when the lagoon is pied with lilies, in autumn 

 when the lily leaves flash like bronze cups upon the waters, 

 and again through the icy mists and snow squalls of winter, 

 when the gull seeks the peacefulness of these inland waters. 

 And should you neglect to preserve your coppice by the 

 riverside, no challenge of cock-pheasant will be heard, for the 

 blue-winged jay sucks every egg on principle, even to the 

 six blackbird-like eggs of his own tribe, which are laid 

 in a nest like a very deep wood-pigeon's, only the jay lines 

 his with yellowish roots. If a small planting hold but two 

 pairs of bright jays, there will be such feuds in the spring 

 when the hawthorn 'gins to bud — such shriekings and com- 

 motion, such a searching for one another's clumsy nests and 

 eggs, and such shrill shrieks of triumph when the eggs are 

 being sucked, that make the leverets tremble in their lairs, 

 and the wood-pigeons to fly hastily to and fro. And know- 

 ing their love of egging, the wise keeper baits his traps with 

 eggs, and so captures the bright-plumaged dare-devil-looking 

 birds, unless they smell the traps, and flee with that heavy 



