I So 



When wandering through the park one evening in 

 the early spring I thought the cawing of the Rooks — 

 they swarm the place — unusually deafening. Suddenly 

 the noise was stilled. So unusual an occurrence 

 served to hasten my footsteps towards the headquarters 

 of the colony. Just as I slipped into view the hubbub 

 recommenced, and a number of Rooks flew to an 

 adjacent tree and scattered the sticks of a newly- 

 formed nest far and wide. I realised that I had 

 witnessed the last act (the carrying out of the 

 sentence) of a Rook court-of-law. 



One or two observers have been fortunate 

 enough to witness the proceedings in full. It were an 

 easy thing, though, to piece the details of the drama 

 together. 



Old Rooks build in the same tree, and in the 

 same fork of the branch, year after year. Young Rooks 

 have to seek out a spot on which to place their future 

 home, and put their nest together by unaided effort. 

 Maybe a sudden gust of wind scatters their hardly- 

 gathered sticks, through inexperience strung loosely 

 together, and in despair the}^ argue, with the dubious 

 honesty of youth, "The old folk have plenty of sticks ; 

 they'll never miss just one or two." 



But papa Rook keeps close account of his building 

 material. On his return a solemn " caw " resounds 

 from the topmost bough, and in response the old 

 "law-givers" of the colony gather round. As he 

 tells his tale of robbery and plunder they caw forth 

 their execration of such deeds. There is a moment's 

 fateful silence — they are considering their verdict. A 

 few seconds later and the nest of the guilty pair is 

 scattered to the four w^inds. 



