go A BIRD COLLECTIONS MEDIEEBY: 
to acquire undying fame in the highest ornithological circles, I made my 
way to the distinguished visitors’ retreat. I may mention that two eggs 
had been left in the nest, so that there was a reasonable chance of finding 
the birds still there. The first sight of the nest was not encouraging; it 
was Close against the main stem of a small tree, and strongly suggestive of 
a Finch’s. However, up we climbed, and found that it contained two 
fledglings. So far so good; identification of some sort was now assured. 
I sent off my guide to hunt for further rarities, and sat down behind a 
bush with my glasses. And now occurred jar number one. I had not 
been there five minutes, when a well-known note came echoing through the 
wood, and a Great Tit settled in the tree above my head. The black head, 
grey body legend was explained; the Orphean was fast receding into space. 
Still, the nest could not be a Tit’s anyway, so I sat on with a pretty solid 
foreboding of what the end would be. It came, as I expected, in the shape 
of a female Chaffinch with a caterpillar in her peak, which she shortly 
transferred to the expectant youngsters in the nest. 
The Orphean myth was now exploded, and with it departed out short- 
lived hopes of ornithological renown. The only consolation was that the 
professional had come second best out of the bargain after all. I could 
not resist the temptation of calling on him to see what had become of the 
remaining eggs. I found him jubilant over the transaction; they had been 
despatched with the utmost care to London.. He repelled with vigour an 
insinuation that they were not Orphean’s after all, and implied pretty clearly 
that I was a fool; but mine, nevertheless, was the last word on the subject, 
when I suggested that in that case it was odd that a hen Chaffinch should 
be feeding the two remaining birds; and with this Parthian dart still rankling 
I left him to ruminate on his misdeeds. 
To return to the Decoy itself. By the time a Nightingale’s nest was 
discovered, we were generally pretty well seasoned to nettles, and, twisting 
a handkerchief round the hand that held the stick, we went straight for the 
nettle clumps themselves. They would always hold a Blackcap’s or a Lesser 
Whitethroat’s, and sometimes the rarer Garden-Warbler’s was to be found ina 
similar position. Through the centre of the Decoy proper there flowed a 
narrow, reed-fringed stream, and this was an almost certain find for a Reed- 
Warbler’s nest, while from the centre of the little decoy, which lay adjacent 
to it, I once put out the unlooked-for form of a fox! But alas! these days are 
gone for ever. “The mongrel poodle has replaced the fox; Swans and _ bar- 
barian Wild Fowl have ousted the native Duck, and pleasure parties daily 
disport themselves in what was once a naturalist’s preserve. 
