126 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



' Hi ! Gip ! Rooks ! ' cries a man's voice, and a 

 fine old dog dashes over the lawn a dozen times a 

 day, barking his loudest to scare them off, for if left 

 to themselves they will clear the heaviest crop from 

 the trees in a very short time. It is no use thinking 

 of shooting them ; you may point a stick at them 

 and flourish it about as much as you like, and it will 

 not disturb them in the least. A gun is a different 

 matter ; only let them catch sight of one, and instead 

 of committing their robberies in an open and delibe- 

 rate manner, as is their usual way, they will clatter 

 into the trees like hawks when they get a chance, nip 

 off the nuts and fly away. The only effectual plan is 

 to trap one. I once saw the experiment tried. One 

 of them hopped into a common trap, set openly, only 

 so secured that the bird could not fly off with it. 

 Finding himself in trouble the rook yelled out his 

 note of alarm. Up the others clattered, cawing their 

 loudest and dropping some of their plunder. All 

 their friends round about came to see what was the 

 matter and to join in the uproar. Flying round and 

 dashing down to him as though to get him out, and 

 finding this no use, they were frightened out of 

 their wits by their comrade's frantic shouts, and 

 mounted high up in the air, cawing their loudest. 

 When the captive had his neck twisted, and he was 



