56 ODD HOURS WITH NATURE 



there was no lady to show off before. Some 

 distance away, under the shrubs, a hen blackbird 

 was busy looking for anything good to eat, scatter- 

 ing the dead leaves in the blackbird fashion, which 

 is quite different from the fashion of the fowl 

 and its kind, in that the beak and not the feet 

 performs the chief part. But she never looked 

 up at the little play, and the players never looked 

 towards her. In a wee,k or two their manner will 

 change, and so will hers, for when the courtship 

 fury really blazes up the hen blackbird takes a 

 masterful share in it. 



The robins are a trifle further advanced than 

 the blackbirds, for they are engaged in little 

 pugilistic passages not the furious fights that will 

 take place next month when an angry pair of cocks 

 will grapple and roll over one another, making 

 the feathers fly but showy encounters with less 

 rage than style. Here is one on the lowest branch 

 of an apple-tree, wings half-expanded, beak open, 

 making threatening bobs at another on the ground. 

 The groundling is looking up with beak half -open, 

 wings just raised from the body and no more, 

 evidently watching for the next move in the game. 

 As the upper bird drops the lower rises, and away 

 the two go on a swift chase, passing through the 

 branches, one close behind the other, with a speed 

 which seems to court a crushing mishap. But they 

 thread the maze in safety every time. 



There has been curiously little love-making 

 among the sparrows, which always make an early 

 start with their family affairs. But, perhaps, that 

 is because the sparrow, when he does begin, gets 



