250 NATURE IN DOWNLAND 



the shade of the furze-bushes; also that in autumn 

 he feasts (often too well) on wild fruits, especially 

 the poisonous yew-berry. But during all that pleasant 

 vagrant summer life, when he sings not and has no 

 family cares, he is still in disposition the bird we 

 know so well in the orchard and copse, the big olive- 

 coloured spotty thrush that sits motionless and statu- 

 esque and flies from you with an angry scream ; the 

 bird whose courageous spirit and fierce onslaught 

 in defence of his nest makes him the equal of crafty 

 crows and pies, and of hawks, in spite of their hooked 

 beaks and cruel sharp talons. Those large black 

 conspicuous spots of his breast and his habit of 

 singing in weather that makes all other voices silent, 

 seem appropriate to a bird of his bold aggressive 

 temper. 



As I walked one hot day on the northern ridge 

 of the South Downs, a party of half-a-dozen missel- 

 thrushes flew up from the ground before me, and 

 rising high in the air went away towards the weald. 

 A telegraph line crosses the hills at that point, and 

 just when the thrushes rose up and flew from me 

 a sparrow-hawk came up swiftly flying over the ridge 

 and perched on the telegraph wire. I have observed 

 that this hawk, like the cuckoo, cannot properly grasp 

 the wire and sit firm and upright on it as most 

 passerine birds are able to do. Like the cuckoo he 

 wobbles and drops his wings upon the wire to help 

 to keep him up. It was so in the present case : the 



