PIGEON-TREES 13 



December going into one of young oaks and beeches, 

 skirting a grove of gloomy pines, where the rooks 

 come nightly to roost. My entry disturbed a 

 multitude of the birds in question, but after sitting, 

 for some time, silently, under a tree of the dividing 

 row, they returned " in numbers numberless," 

 almost rivalling the rooks themselves. Some trees 

 seemed favourites, and, from these, clouds of them 

 would, sometimes, fly suddenly off, as if they had 

 become overcrowded. There was a constantly 

 recurring clatter and swish of wings, and then 

 all at once the great bulk of the birds, as it 

 seemed to me, rose with such a clapping as 

 Garrick or Mrs. Siddons might have dreamed 

 of, and departed — quantities of them, at least 

 — in impetuous, arrowy flight. I should have 

 said, now, that the greater number were gone, 

 though the plantation still seemed fairly peopled. 

 Towards four, however, it became so cold that I 

 had to move, and all the pigeons flew out of all 

 the trees — a revelation as to their real numbers, 

 quite a wonderful thing to see. Some of the trees, 

 as the birds left them, just in the moment when 

 they were going, but still there, were neither oaks 

 nor beeches — nor ashes, elms, poplars, firs, sycamores, 

 or any other known kind for the matter of that — 

 but pigeon-tYQQS^ that and nothing else. 



For wrens, tits, and golden-crested wrens these 

 fir plantations are as paradises all the year round. 

 The first-named little bird may often be seen creep- 

 ing about amongst the small holes and tunnels at 

 the roots of trees — especially overturned trees — 

 going down into one and coming out at another, 



