60 NATURE NEAR LONDON 



and flags, to which the birds descend. It happened 

 once, however, that the withey stoles had been polled, 

 and in the spring the boughs were short and small. At 

 the same time, the easterly winds checked the sedges, so 

 that they were hardly half their height, and the flags 

 were thin, and not much taller, when the sedge-birds 

 came, so that they for once found but little cover, and 

 could be seen to advantage. 



There could not have been less than fifteen in the plan- 

 tation, two frequented some bushes beside a pond near by, 

 some stayed in scattered willows farther down the stream. 

 They sang so much they scarcely seemed to have time to 

 feed. While approaching one that was singing by gently 

 walking on the sward by the roadside, or where thick 

 dust deadened the footsteps, suddenly another would 

 commence in the low thorn hedge on a branch, so near 

 that it could be touched with a walking-stick. Yet though 

 so near the bird was not wholly visible he was partly 

 concealed behind a fork of the bough. This is a 

 habit of the sedge-birds. Not in the least timid, they 

 chatter at your elbow, and yet always partially hidden. 



If in the withey, they choose a spot where the rods 

 cross or bunch together. If in the sedges, though so 

 close it seems as if you could reach forward and catch 

 him, he is behind the stalks. To place some obstruction 

 between themselves and any one passing is their custom ; 

 but that spring, as the foliage was so thin, it only needed 

 a little dexterity in peering to get a view. The sedge- 

 bird perches aside, on a sloping willow rod, and, slightly 

 raising his head, chatters, turning his bill from side to 

 side. He is a very tiny bird, and his little eye looks out 

 from under a yellowish streak. His song at first sounds 

 nothing but chatter. 



After listening a while the ear finds a scale in it an 



