8o STRA Y FEA THERS FROM MANY BIRDS. 



in the shrubbery, or the Wren trilling out its wild refrain 

 from the thicket. The Cuckoo blithely calls from the 

 oak trees in the fields, and the Bunting sends forth his 

 monotonous and jerky song from the hedgerows. Nature 

 is awakening; all is bustle and song and excitement 

 once more. 



To a superficial observer these woods and fields are 

 eloquent of peace ; but war, the cruellest and fiercest of 

 all war, the oppression of the weak by the strong, is 

 waging everywhere. You doubt it ? Then linger here 

 under these old trees by the stream, and wait and watch. 

 The bold Sparrowhawk leaves the distant woods and 

 beats up and down the hedgerows ; there is a swoop, a 

 cry of death, a flutter of wings, and the little Bunting we 

 were listening to is dead, carried off to feed the Hawk's 

 hungry young. The Swallows as they glide around us 

 or circle in the highest air are destroying insects in 

 countless millions. Now look into the clear water at 

 your feet ; see the tiny troutlets drifting down the stream 

 and then fetching up again ; these are the food of the 

 Kingfisher. The ephemeral drake-flies that rise to the 

 surface of the brook and poise upon its surface, are 

 snapped up by the hungry fish. Each organism from the 

 highest to the lowest is waging war, one preying upon the 

 other whichever way we look. Not only is this warfare 

 a struggle for food, it is a civil strife for place. Among 

 animals and birds and insects the strong are everywhere 



