BIRDS OF THE WAVE AND WOODLAND 79 



approach, vanishing- through the surrounding wall of tall 

 meadow-grass in a twinkling, or they would cluck and crane 

 their necks to look at me, and then go on feeding — all 

 except the cock-bird, who invariably fled, and from his 

 hiding-place would keep on making nervous remarks to his 

 wife, who kept as regularly reassuring him with little com- 

 fortable clucks that all was risfht. A little scattered chicken- 

 food brought them very soon through the gate into the 

 garden, and from the garden on to the terrace, where they 

 came at last to feed as regularly and happily as ordinary 

 pigeons. But when September came, and the guns were 

 busy in the farmers' fields that lay outside their garden-asylum, 

 the covey gradually dwindled away till, out of the nine, only 

 four survived the season. The pheasants, too, were free 

 of the grounds, and they were always in evidence. The carna- 

 tions had all to be fenced in wherever growing, for the 

 pheasants would not leave them alone, and they were very 

 fond, too, of parading along the wall, and pecking off all the 

 jessamine buds and tips they could reach ; but with jessa- 

 mine we could afford to be liberal, and the birds were allowed 

 to eat all they could. Not all that they would though. For one 

 day, while sitting in a greenhouse, I saw an old cock, the 

 most absurdly vain old bird imaginable, fall off the wall. He 

 tried to reach a tuft of jessamine that was exactly impos- 

 sible, and after many half tumbles and recoveries of balance 

 with much wing-flapping, he at last made one more desperate 



