234 Storks & Cranes 



As he winged his way out of sight, it seemed 

 like some mysterious departure of a spirit, seeking 

 a sunnier and a better clime. 



Would my storks ever return in the spring-time to 

 the old English home ? What a triumph if they did ! 



That year I really believe they all four left 

 England's hostile shores in safety, for although I 

 looked carefully in the obituary column — I beg its 

 pardon, I mean the natural history notes of the Field 

 — where more than once I have seen the slaughter of 

 my storks recorded, there was, to my great relief, no 

 announcement that any white storks had been shot. 



In other years, as sure as fate, about a week or a 

 fortnight after my storks had left for their winter 

 quarters, I was sure to see — " A white stork shot in 

 Kent," or somewhere else. And wouldn't I have 

 enjoyed peppering the legs of the sportsman who did 

 the deed ! 



On one occasion one of my storks was resting on a 

 chimney of a farmhouse in Kent, before crossing the 

 Channel, and the farmer came out and knocked him 

 over with a gun-shot. 



My storks of 1899 may have met with the same 

 sad fate ; and any one who killed them, finding the 

 silver rings on their ankles, would perhaps have been 

 too ashamed to make the matter public. " Speriamo 

 di no," as the Italians say. 



No doubt, if they are, on the other hand, safely 

 somewhere in the neighbourhood of Fashoda, the 

 other storks will believe them to be princes in disguise 

 when they see their silver anklets. 



