WOODLANDS 9 



blocked by bushes that its course after the first hundred 

 yards or so cannot be traced. 



To the right the track a little wider and clearer of 

 bushes extends through wood, and as it is straight and 

 rises up a gentle slope, the eye can travel along it half a 

 mile. There is nothing but wood around. This track to 

 the right appears the most used, and has some ruts in the 

 centre. The sward each side is concealed by endless 

 thistles, on the point of sending forth clouds of thistledown, 

 and to which presently the goldfinches will be attracted. 



Occasionally a movement among the thistles betrays 

 the presence of a rabbit ; only occasionally, for though 

 the banks are drilled with buries, the lane is too hot 

 for them at midday. Particles of rabbits' fur lie on the 

 ground, and their runs are visible in every direction. 

 But there are no birds. A solitary robin, indeed, perches 

 on an ash branch opposite, and regards me thoughtfully. 

 It is impossible to go anywhere in the open air without 

 a robin ; they are the very spies of the wood. But there 

 are no thrushes, no blackbirds, finches, nor even sparrows. 



In August it is true most birds cease to sing, but 

 sitting thus partially hidden and quiet, if there were any 

 about something would be heard of them. There would 

 be a rustling, a thrush would fly across the lane, a black- 

 bird would appear by the gateway yonder in the shadow 

 which he loves, a finch would settle in the oaks. None 

 of these incidents occur ; none of the lesser signs of life 

 in the foliage, the tremulous spray, the tap of a bill 

 cleaned by striking first one side and then the other 

 against a bough, the rustle of a wing nothing. 



There are woods, woods, woods; but no birds. 

 Yonder a drive goes straight into the ashpoles, it is 

 green above and green below, but a long watch will 

 reveal nothing living. The dry mounds must be full 



