XXI RIVERSIDE LETTERS 165 



end of the garden. This afternoon, as I was 

 dipping water from the river beneath the 

 willow, I heard the noise just over my head, 

 I stepped back gently, and there, very close 

 indeed, on the slanting trunk of the tree, I 

 saw the bird and its nut as plainly as possible. 

 The willow bark is deeply corrugated with 

 narrow furrows, into the angle of one of 

 which the bird had thrust the nut (one of our 

 filberts) and was perched above it, holding on 

 firmly by its claws. It drew itself up, almost 

 to a slope backwards, and with rigid body 

 and neck came down on the nut with its 

 beak, with machine-like accuracy. I made a 

 roughish sketch which I enclose. Every 

 now and then it w r ould go round and give a 

 tap or two from below, apparently for the 

 purpose of the adjustment of the nut ; but 

 the main work was done from above. The 

 bird remained some time, whilst I was there, 

 hard at work, but flew away at last, leaving 

 its nut unfinished. 



Two things I derived from this observation, 



