A BIRDLQVER'S YEAR 



the blue," and the clump of trees in the 

 Yellow-hammer's Lane, " to whose top- 

 most twig a thrush resorts," is the place to 

 repair to. 



Together with the martins the swallow 

 comes back " With summer o'er the wave," 

 to be followed by the swift, that bird who 

 has so completely mastered the art of flight 

 and whose aerial evolutions must be a joy 

 for ever to behold. 



Standing in the Lane one sees " above in 

 the wind the swallow ; chasing itself at its 

 own wild will," whilst from the neighbouring 

 wood " Cuckoos cry again." Then one 

 knows that summer is at its height, 

 that "the sweet of the year" is o'er all 

 the land. 



There can be no pleasanter way of passing 

 an afternoon than to spend it in the Yellow- 

 hammer's Lane. The bird watcher should 

 take his plaid and binoculars, and with some 

 chocolate in his pocket or a " thermos " 

 over his shoulder, let him defy time ; he 

 will find the hours speed all too quickly. 

 One is certain to see the tits, cole, blue and 

 great, whilst the tiny wren will betray its 

 presence by its burst of song ; the robin is 

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