' 39 



hedge some crab apples show up in strong relief, and 

 on the leafless tree a beautiful little Goldcrest is flut- 

 tering among the boughs. This lane is rich in Yellow- 

 hammers and Chaffinches, to say nothing of Tits and 

 Hedge Sparrows. From a field on one side comes the 

 quarrelsome squealing of Starlings feeding, and then 

 two Crows fly over at a good height. Our walk is nearly 

 over now, and we have almost reached the end of the 

 lane when a multitude of little mouse-like squeaks 

 proclaim the presence of a flock of Long-tailed Tits, 

 and the hedge seems full of the little acrobats. As 

 we enter the village the inevitable Sparrows, Green- 

 finches, and Chaffinches fly up from a garden, and the 

 last bird we see is a fearless homely Robin perched on 

 the garden wall. 



SoinetbiuQ about the IRicibtinQale. 



By W. T. Greene, M.A., M.D., F.Z.S. 



The time of the singing of birds has come, and 

 the voice of the Nightingale is heard in the land. But 

 in what particular part ot it, wild hor.ses will not make 

 me divulge, for the silent foot of the crafty trapper is 

 also about. He has prepared cunning baits to delude 

 and capture th^ minstrel, and in ninety-nine cases out 

 of a hundred will but betray him to an ignominious 

 death. 



Very few Nightingales, probably not more than 

 two or three in a hundred, that are taken prisoners on 

 their arrival in the Spring, will survive many days, 

 sometimes not many hours in captivity. Caught at 

 the very moment when his expectations of future 

 happiness are at their highest, and he is pouring forth 



