LADY DAY IN DEVON 



THE rooks are now busy in the elms of the 

 churchyard, and drifting thwartwise the 

 wind with sticks for their nests. Sometimes 

 a young male bird comes with food for his 

 mate as she pleaches the twigs with claw 

 and beak; she flutters her wings like a 

 fledgeling, gapes widely, and squawks with 

 satisfaction. Daws come to the trees, 

 perching head to the south-west breeze, 

 ejaculating sharply. Periodical visitants are 

 the starlings, their songs of mimicry swelling 

 with sudden rush and wheezing. One bird 

 has learnt the chattering cry of a kestrel, 

 the mating call, and deceives the rooks into 

 thinking that one of the brown mouse- 

 hawks is near. That rooks are thieves among 

 themselves is well known, stealing sticks 

 from their neighbours. To-day I watched 

 one taking material that a young and 



