A SPRING HERESY 93 



daily during six months of each year over a space of 

 four miles separating the rookery from their winter 

 sleeping quarters, would have it so confirmed by the 

 frequent passage as to be able to locate the rookery 

 even in a fog. The fact that in open weather they 

 invariably visit the rookery daily but during fog they 

 do not visit it, makes it evident that they cannot find 

 it, the reason being that they are guided by sight and 

 not by a sense of direction, an explanation that it 

 seems safe to extend to the case of migrating birds, 

 always thrown off their course, more or less, by fog. 



At Turn Moss how long will these delightful old 

 names last? the redbrick horrors of the jerry builder 

 are spreading out over the land like some feverous 

 rash ; at Turn Moss, we turn aside into meadows 

 that once were mossland, and still are subject to 

 frequent inundation. 



Entering a field, in which the ploughed-up clods 

 have been frozen into rock-like hardness, I rouse the 

 Skylarks from their sleeping places in the hollows 

 between them. Skylarks in a fog what a conjunction ! 

 Their musical "Pr.r.r!" sounds on all sides as the birds 

 flutter forward, to drop at once to earth, uncertain of 

 their course and mine. Among them is a bird with 

 a strange "fleef"-mg note, repeated time after time 

 as I stumble over the uneven ground. Each time it 

 sounds it leaves me unsatisfied that I have clearly 

 heard, and so I follow on to hear again. But, the 

 elusive "peep!" is as perplexing to the ear as the 

 bird itself is invisible to the eye. Following it, I 

 strike the edge of a small pond known as Sally's Hole. 



Often enough I have wondered who Sally was, 

 and how this pond came to be called by her name. 



