310 FEBRUARY 



hovers near to snatch the crumbs which the wasteful 

 starlings have scattered far and wide. I believe it 

 is said that the blackbirds are driving the thrushes 

 out of gardens, and it is certainly true that every 

 year the thrushes are fewer and their song is rarer. 

 Probably within a measurable distance of time we 

 shall make excursions into the fields to listen to 

 them by day, as we do now to hear the nightin- 

 gale on a warm night in May. 



And lastly to the scene of the feast come the 

 rooks, though not to eat. They circle high above 

 the table, not daring to approach the house, and 

 they perch in neighbouring trees, cawing mournfully 

 for the joys which cannot be theirs. Sad it is to 

 look into happiness through another bird's eyes, 

 and this sadness seems ever the portion of the rook 

 colony, which flies a long distance only to behold a 

 feast devoured by lesser, bolder birds. But there 

 are turnips yet to be had in the fields, and the 

 winter will not be a long one, for the starlings have 

 told us so ; and presently the rooks will have it all 

 their own way, and will make the world noisy with 

 their clamorous family life. For the twigs of the 

 wych elms are big with purple knobs, and the 

 earliest snowdrops are pushing bravely through the 

 snow, and the honeysuckles are bursting into gay, 

 green leaf, and the heart of Nature is throbbing 

 beneath her winter garment. And presently she 

 will awake from her long sleep, refreshed and ready 

 for new efforts of beauty and tenderness ; and the 

 flowers her children will lie in her lap, rejoicing 

 because spring has given them life again. 



Perhaps, after all, the portion of the watching 



