232 STARLINGS. 



amounting to about thirty, has assembled, and the grand 

 work of the year fairly commences. From this time, 

 all is bustle; straws and nest-furniture are seen flying 

 through the air in beaks, contriving, nevertheless, to 

 announce their comings and goings by particular harsh 

 or low muttering cries, according as they think they are 

 watched or not. They are cunning birds, and discover 

 in an instant, whether a passer-by has an eye to their 

 movements, and perfectly aware whether he is following 

 his own business or theirs. If he steps onwards, without 

 troubling himself about them, they go in and out with 

 perfect unconcern; but if a glance of curiosity or obser- 

 vation is directed to their motions, they are all upon the 

 alert; the bearer of a tuft to the nest, wheels to the 

 right about, and perching on the naked upper twig of a 

 small beech-tree, or the projecting point of a gable-end, 

 sits there, uttering a particular note, which seems to 

 give, as well as words could do, intimation to a mate to 

 be on its guard, as a spy is at hand. If the weather is 

 tolerably favourable, everything goes on smoothly and 

 regularly: but (and we have, in the journal of our Star- 

 lings' proceedings, many instances on record) should a 

 severe and sudden change occur, a violent storm of snow, 

 or continuance of chilling winds, all operations are sus- 

 pended; not only the eaves and half-built nests, but even 

 the tower itself, battlements, weather-cock, and all, are 

 deserted, till a return of fine weather, when the Starlings 

 too return and the work again proceeds. At length the 

 nests are built, the eggs laid, and the young ones hatched. 

 Then a new scene of noise, and activity, and bustle com- 

 mences, increasing of course as the nestlings become 

 older and more voracious. Then it is that the lawn 

 becomes a favourite resort; hitherto a few idlers may 

 have hopped and pecked up a stray worm or two, but 

 now the search is a matter of serious occupation. 



Down they come, the sober-coloured hen, and the cock 

 with the sun glittering on its spangled feathers, with 

 claws and beaks as busily employed as if their very 



