82 AY BIRD MCOVEE CLO S Mie DIEE Ne 
two or three districts, and devote a day to each. Lyndhurst Road provides 
a natural and convenient starting point, and the country round is some of 
the prettiest and most interesting from a naturalist’s point of view, especially 
in the month of May. 
Turning off sharp to the left from the Lyndhurst Road, you are soon 
engaged in picking your way through the boggy turf, and at once recognize 
the fact that for all forest exploration the first essential 1s a good, sound 
pair of boots. As you enter the picturesque glade that lies in front of 
Ashurst Lodge, a yellow form flits hastily between the trees, and the ear is 
greeted with the well-known laughing cry of the Green Woodpecker. As 
might be expected, it is a common bird in the Forest, and the numerous 
decayed trees in this neighbourhood seem specially adapted for its nest. It 
was here that I first got a good view of the bird upon the ground, and was 
much struck with the similarity of its actions to those of a Common Starling 
strutting about upon a lawn. 
Another tree bird that is sure to meet us soon is the Nuthatch; its 
metallic note can never be mistaken, and will at once enable us to detect 
its owner as he stands hammering with short but sturdy beak a nut that 
he has fixed in some crevice of the bark, or hanging head downwards to 
inspect us with saucy defiant stare. The Nuthatch is deservedly a favourite ; 
he always seems so merry, even in the hardest of winters, and there is a 
charm also in the harmony of its soft grey plumage, set off by the dash of 
bright chestnut on the flank, and the dark streak beside the eye. Like those 
of the Woodpeckers, his nest is in these trees; I once found it in the very first 
tree facing the road, but the hole, going right into the heart of the trunk, 
was impervious to any weapon short of an axe. This nest had no mud 
round the entrance, and was far more like the nest of a Tit, but to judge 
by the bird’s actions we can hardly have been mistaken as to the owner- 
ship. Another pair of Nuthatches that I knew of that season were not 
equally happy in their selection of a site. Long before May was in they 
had secured a hole in a small oak tree, and narrowed down the entrance 
with the usual wall of mud. <A deep layer of oak leaves already lined the 
hollow, and everything was ready for the eggs. Some days later we went 
to look for them, but the first glance as we entered the clearing revealed the 
unwelcome fact that the mud wall was demolished. Burglars had evidently 
been at work; nay, one was still upon the premises, for as we advanced a 
head was thrust forth and hurriedly withdrawn into the hole. It was the 
work of a moment to clap a hand over it, and then, eager to find who the 
intruder might be, we lowered an extemporized noose into the hollow, and, 
