BIRDS OF THE PEAK 127 



fool " because of a too tender heart, who is perhaps 

 the mother of a great hulking brute of a son who 

 gobbled up all he could get out of her, caring nothing 

 whether she starved or not, and when it suited his 

 pleasure went off and took no more thought of her — 

 of the poor devoted fool waiting and pining for her 

 darling's return. The pipit's memory is just as faith- 

 ful ; she remembers the big greedy son she fed and 

 warmed with her little breast a year or two ago, who 

 went away, goodness knows where, a long time back ; 

 and in every cuckoo that flies by she thinks she sees him 

 again and flies after him to tell him of her undying love 

 and pride in his bigness and fine feathers and loud 

 voice. 



Who that knows it intimately, who sees it creeping 

 about among the grass and heather on its pretty little 

 pink legs, and watches its large dark eyes full of shy 

 curiosity as it returns your look, and who listens to its 

 small delicate tinkling strain on the moor as it flies up 

 and up, then slowly descends singing to earth, can fail 

 to love the meadow pipit — the poor little feathered 

 fool ? 



Concerning the breeding habits, the friendship and 

 very one-sided partnership between these two species, 

 Mr. Salt informed me that all the cuckoos' eggs he had 

 found in fifty-five years, during which he had been 

 observing the birds of the district, were in meadow 

 pipits' nests. Nor had he ever seen a young cuckoo 

 being tended by the numerous other species supposed 

 to be its foster parents — warblers, wagtails, chats, the 



