SPRING 



BIRDS-NESTING 



MY eariiest memory of birds-nesting is that of having" 

 been lifted up, while yet wearing a pinafore, to see 

 the sky-blue eggs of a hedge-sparrow that had built 

 among the black hawthorns by the roadside. It was 

 before their first grey buds had developed into green, 

 or the violet had flowered at their roots. The cock 

 bird sat on the top rail of a gate and girded at us 

 fiercely in his thin little voice, and his mate fluttered 

 uneasily to and fro along the fence. To this day 

 'Billy's' artless note is as welcome as the song of lark 

 or nightingale. But a time soon came for rambling 

 in search of others. 



One favourite field (who does not remember the 

 like ?) was a true birds-nester's paradise. On the 

 north it was sheltered by a strip of tall beech and ash. 

 For two hundred yards of fresh grass there was a 

 precipitous slope to a great hedge, at whose foot the 



B 



