70 BIRDS OF THE COUNTRYSIDE 



saints marshalled along the west front, seems to mock 

 everything that is pompous and consequential. 



The daws, too, have a special game of their own. A 

 pair of them pursues a third with shrill, metallic cries. 

 The quarry takes refuge in a hole or cranny, and the 

 hunters then perch above it, craning their necks over 

 it, their sorcerers' eyes alive with gleeful cunning. Then 

 the hideling daw cautiously stretches out a neck and 

 suddenly makes a bolt for it, the others scrambling off 

 their perches and taking up the chase again in full cry. 

 They dash into the holes at full speed and with marvellous 

 precision, being suddenly blotted out, as if the grey 

 walls had some magical power of invisibility. Another 

 game is to lay an ambush for one of their fellows and 

 suddenly to dash out at him from behind some corner, 

 pillar or gable. Parties of them, again, often form a 

 solid body and conduct a series of aerial manoeuvres 

 and evolutions, flying with great velocity, and obey 

 the telepathic word of command to wheel with a unanimity 

 as mysterious as it is beautiful. 



I used to watch the rooks feeding on a large field 

 adjoining the town, and it was interesting to see the 

 social blending with the sexual instinct. There they 

 were stalking or idling or sunning themselves with 

 bodies prone to the ground, wings unfurled and heads 

 and necks outstretched upon the ground. But though 

 the first mists were already throwing grey scarves over 

 the cathedral towers, they were still making love ; some 

 of them were actually pairing ; some standing shoulder 

 to shoulder with their heads towards one another and 

 mandibles interlocked, kissing in fact ; others bowing to 

 their partners with bills buried in the grass, tails expanded 

 and lower parts raised high in the air ; others gravely 

 perambulating round and round their mates. It was not 

 so much courtship as somewhat sugary marital bliss. 



It is known, of course, that some of our native 

 species pair for life, and a recent essay of Mr. Hudson's 

 Do Starlings Pair for Life ? adds a highly social species 

 to the number. I think he proves his case, and if he 

 does, he has cracked the hardest nut of scepticism 

 about other species, whose habits are imperfectly known, 



