LLANDDWYN 9 



haunt. Commonest of all at that time was the Wood- 

 wren, its measured "Tin! tin! tin! tin! tin!"- 

 the metallic note of a titmouse rather than of a 

 warbler sounding from the higher trees all along 

 the way, replaced not infrequently by the tinkling 

 cascade of clear but hurried notes that makes up its 

 song. Rarer than the Wood-wren was the Willow- 

 wren, for it likes not packed woods, and if it nest 

 there, chooses as a rule the fringe of them or some 

 small clearing within. Titmice, Great and Blue, 

 and at times the Coal, cried out shrill impeachment 

 as we passed " 'deed, he did it ! 'deed, he did it /" 

 followed by objurgatory churring at the enormity of 

 what he did. The Wren, as usual, left his passage 

 until the very last moment, then whirred low across 

 our path, all but touching the wheels. How common 

 the Wren is in these parts! as common as in Ireland, 

 as one might perhaps expect. Numberless Robins 

 red breast or mottled young hopped from the low 

 ivy- grown wall, of purpose set to challenge this riot 

 of wheels, but flitted hurriedly back again, dis- 

 concerted by the unexpected audacity of our approach. 

 Pied Wagtails, feeding on the road, yielded us length 

 after length of way, in the end to be outdone and cut 

 back behind us. Chaffinches, than which no more 

 confident birds exist, barely escaped being rolled out, 

 the young especially having apparently as yet no 

 clear conception of the status of this modern centaur, 

 half man, half wheels. Here, too, the Bullfinch 

 might occasionally be seen, and the dolorous "peep!" 

 of the Tree-creeper be heard. The Flycatcher shot 

 out and snapped his bill audibly upon a fly, then 

 returned to his perch to watch one pass with full, 



