92 BIRDS OF THE WATER 



unroll and tinkle down their myriad shining 

 films of ice. 



Surely if country life can be so absorbing 

 to those of us who love it, we can under- 

 stand the passion for absolute freedom 

 amongst the wild creatures who know the 

 meaning of a thousand scents and sounds 

 quite meaningless to us. 



Sometimes during the day Budget can be 

 seen in his favourite squatting attitude, 

 nestling down in a thick border of white 

 pinks or other cosy gro^\i;h, the little ones 

 mimicing his actions and lying alongside 

 like tenders beside an ocean liner. 



After witnessing in intimate detail the 

 happiness and goodness — yes, goodness — of 

 some of these birds, their affection for one 

 another and helpfulness, a milk of human 

 kindness, overflowing in dear Budget's 

 case, even to the stodgy old Buif Orpington 

 hen, w^ho warms his nestlings at night and 

 is shamelessly deserted by them during the 

 daytime. After, I say, witnessing the 

 intimacies of their lives, shooting of these 

 particular species is no longer conceivable. 

 I find myself sjrmpathising with the collies 



