WATCHING ROOKS 283 



The " burr," in my opinion, when well and loudly 

 uttered — for here, again, there is much variety — marks 

 the maximum of a rook's content, at any rate in a 

 certain direction. 



'"■December i^th. — At 7 A.M. I am at the point of the 

 road nearest to the rookery, and I hear the sweet 

 jangle, ' the musical confusion,' already beginning. 

 Not much, however — subdued and occasional — in- 

 fluenced, perhaps, by the heavy morning mist that 

 hangs over trees and earth. After a time I walk to 

 an oak just outside the plantation, and sit listening to 

 the rising hubbub — now rising, now falling. A sad, 

 mist-hung morning, the earth lightly snow-decked ; 

 raw and chill, but not so frostily, bitingly cold as 

 yesterday and before. The general intonation of the 

 rook voice is pleasing and musical — how much more 

 so than the roar of an at-home as the door is flung 

 open, even though one has not to go through that 

 door ! There is very great modulation and flexibility 

 — more expression, more of a real voice than other 

 birds. One feels that beings producing such sounds 

 must be intelligent and have amiable qualities. One 

 of the prettiest babbles in nature ! 



" One catches ' qnook, qnook,' ' chuggerrer,' ' choo- 

 00-00.' At intervals the single, sudden squawk, or 

 continued trumpeting, of a pheasant, breaks abruptly 

 into the sea of sound, then mingles with it. Every 

 now and again, too, there is a sudden increase of 

 sound, which again sinks. 



"At 7.50 the rooks are still in bed, but a pheasant 

 — a fine cavalier — comes running towards me over 

 the snow. He makes a long and very fast run for 

 some fifty yards or so, then stops and draws himself 



