THE ROOK AND JACKDAW 43 



of the old nest sometimes sufficing. To these earth and clay are 

 added, the whole being completed and strengthened by fresh twigs, 

 which the birds may be seen snapping off as they swing about in the 

 tree-tops. In the cup formed by this rude structure is a soft bed 

 made of leaves, grass, hair, or similar material, and here the hen 

 lays her bluish-green, thickly blotched eggs. From this moment she 

 is assiduously tended by the cock-bird, who not only sometimes takes 

 her place, but goes afield early and late to find for her all the delicacies 

 of the season, which she receives with the usual grateful gurglings and 

 fluttering wings. But there are degrees of assiduity, and there are 

 husbands and husbands. At times " the suspicious hen, kept waiting 

 longer than usual, seems to scent treachery from afar, and whilst the 

 cock is still winging his way to the rookery, hops from the nest, and 

 awaits his arrival on a neighbouring bough. The cock, who has 

 probably been snatching a surreptitious meal in the fields below, takes 

 in the situation, and alights at a significant distance from the nest, 

 wearing the dejected air of one who has been trying all day to earn 

 bread for his wife and children, but only succeeded in obtaining the 

 price of a pint of beer for himself." 



" Caw," exclaims the irate wife, incisively, not caring a scrap for 

 the neighbours. " Where have you been all this time ? What have 

 you got ? you . . . ! " etc., as plainly as words can speak, springing 

 along the branch from which the cock escapes to a higher one with a 

 deprecating air. 



' He will not answer such charges," he seems to say ; and he has 

 a very valid reason. 



' But the lady is not to be put off. ' Caw ! caw ! caw ! ' " she cries 

 excitedly, until she is beak to beak with him. 



' If the rook has a physiognomy, it probably requires a rook to 

 decipher it ; but it would appear that she has learned the signs when 

 she suddenly charges the delinquent's bill, and extracts the loveliest 

 bundle of wire worms that ever gnawed a farmer's crop. . . ."* 



1 J. M. Boraston, Birds by Land and Sea, p. 126. 



* 



