CHAPTER I. 



THE GREEN WOODPECKER. 



(Picus viridis?) 



A T all times of the year a forest has charms for 

 the naturalist, but it is in the spring, when 

 Nature is awakening from her long winter sleep, 

 that it affords him the greatest pleasure. 



We were strolling one lovely May day along a 

 grassy glade in the most beautiful forest in England, 

 with the beech trees above us swathed in a delicate 

 green, the oaks still bearing the russet tint of early 

 spring, and here and there a wavy birch or dark- 

 green holly shadowing forth. The gorse was budding, 

 and the green shoots of the bracken were everywhere 

 peeping through the mossy floor, while all around 

 us the tits and finches were softly twittering, when 

 suddenly, just above our head, a loud uncanny 



B 



