314 ENGLISH BIRD LIFE 



backs to the quarter from Avhich the prevaiUng wind 

 comes, and with foHage stretching out hke the flame 

 of a candle suddenly arrested. Here, too, the bents 

 and the whin-bushes all turn from the west, the line 

 of their growth permanently deflected by the blast. 

 Beyond the fir trees the ravine dips, and here the 

 little stream runs its rocky course through the 

 sheltering bracken, resting now and then in dark 

 pools to which the Dipper comes at times from the 

 river in the valley. 



As one waits, there is little sign of life— a few 

 butterflies (meadow-browns) flit about the bracken 

 and grassy spaces, dropping into the herbage after 

 each uncertain flight, like dead leaves stirred by the 

 wind, and the crop-crop of the sheep behind us 

 and the murmur of the burn in the distance, are, 

 for the while, the only sounds to be heard. But 

 as one smokes restfully, surveying the whole peace- 

 ful scene, certain birds which have been near to us 

 all the while, begin to make their presence known. 

 A Aleadow Pipit flits from the grass and alights 

 upon a rock where, hardly to be distinguished from 

 the grey stone on which it rests, it utters its faint 

 intermittent notes. Then a Wren draws near, 

 moving busily from jDoint to point. When it 

 reaches the rough stone wall which guards the fir 

 wood, it pursues its investigations in every cranny, 

 creeping into the interstices and reappearing again, 

 with sudden bending of breast and jerk of tail. 



Lower, the ravine widens, and the ground be- 

 comes free of heather and bracken. Here, on the 

 grassy expanse, the Green Plovers find a congenial 

 haunt, and many may now be seen running amidst 



