100. OUR- LAST HUNT 2OF THE SEASON 
carefully as could be, to keep the whole 
intact. It was a well-made nest, built up 
of hay and straw, with here and there an 
empty barley head and a few bits of string. 
It was globular in shape, about the size of a 
football, and lined within by feathers of all 
kinds, and on one side was a neat round hole 
that led deep down to where the one white 
grey-speckled egg was laid. Now such a 
structure was a great surprise to me. Had 
I been asked which British bird I thought 
the greatest slattern in the art of building 
nests, the sparrow would most certainly have 
first occurred to me. So, after all, our little 
sooty friend, that we associate with bricks 
and chimney tops, and blame so much for 
all the mischief that he does (especially 
in spring time, to our flower beds and plants) 
is an artificer of note. 
He builds a nest with an artistic eye, 
studying both shape and symmetry, when 
he can get a good foundation for the work. 
We all have seen it, most often in a gutter 
or under some projecting eave, and chok- 
