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Reviews



sportsman ; but we read that in time his outlook on life and nature

changed, and field-glasses took the place of the gun. He preferred to

watch the habits of living creatures, and in these studies he exercised

infinite patience. This is obvious when we read about the Kingfishers

and their young in “ Bird Life in a Western Valley ”—which article

strikes us as perhaps the best in the book. Mr. Rees entered on the

living of Exmoor in 1916 with high hopes, but. it is singularly pathetic

to relate that his health suddenly failed, and he died in June, 1917,

“ with his trained powers of observation at their height.”


Nowand then in these articles we feel the spirit of Richard Jefferies;

for example, in “ The Changing Year ”, and still more particularly in

“ Wild Life and Hard W’eather ” ; for the latter article we have a

particularlv high regard. The author had a deeper affection for some

birds than for others, as many happy little flashlight pictures show.

Partridges he calls “ our home-loving little ‘ brown birds whose

presence on a farm is suggestive of all that is idyllic in the rural life

of Britain ”. The Dipper is “ the cheery, restless, white-breasted

Robin of the brook ”. The Kingfisher—“ the radiant butterfly-bird.”

The Lark—“ the carol of a joyous Lark climbing an invisible stairway

to the sky.” The Wren—“ ever an optimist; in summer and winter

alike he is the same cheery philosopher.” The Heron—“ the lean

hermit of the wilds.” In one place he pays valuable tribute to the real

usefulness of the Dipper.


In the article on the Wood Wren we wish the author had said a

good deal more about the song and call-notes of this fascinating little

warbler—about that strange, shivering song which thrills through the

beech and oak woods in late spring—and about that no less strange

“ wailing ”, “ melancholy ”, or “ sorrowing ” note—as bird students

have variously interpreted it—which is particularly in evidence when

the young are first launched upon the wing.


“ Frequently,” says the author, in a wistful yet pleasing way,

“ I have been struck by this peculiarity in the song of a bird—that it

indicates more than a mere exuberance of joy, more than the one

simple emotion evident in a melodious call-note, and more than

mere wonder, anger, expostulation in the harsh, unmusical note

of alarm.” The Skylark’s carol “ cannot be compared with the



