CHAPTER V 

 BIRD-HAUNTED LONDON 



THE title of this chapter is a misnomer. My 

 observations of London birds are confined almost 

 exclusively to the district in which I live an inner, 

 south-western suburb near the river, and in brave, 

 legendary days a fourpenny bus ride from Charing 

 Cross. It is true that I have penetrated our brick 

 jungles in search of wild bird-life in various parks 

 and open spaces. But the changes commented upon 

 by Mr. Hudson (who gives a list of forty-nine breed- 

 ing species in Kew Gardens in Birds in London) 

 are now accomplished. It is a great mistake to sup- 

 pose that the parks belong to the public, and it is 

 not they who are to blame for the banishment of 

 the wild birds, but the singular passion of park 

 authorities for parlour-maid nature. They are born 

 into the world with a mission to turn Tib, Marian 

 and Silvia into Chloris, Celia and Sacharissa, and 

 they spend their lives in making them presentable. 

 Tib's hair is apt to steal down upon her eyebrows, 

 Marian laughs like a mad thing, and Silvia's green 

 girdle is all frayed at the edges. Back with it, down 

 with it, away with it ! So for years these worthies 

 have been lopping boughs, trimming grass, uprooting 

 undergrowth, until at last they have succeeded in 

 tidying up the tousled nymph for the drawing-room, 

 and have manicured nature down to the quick of 

 their own tidy little souls. Unless used for agricul- 

 tural purposes, the open spaces in and about London 

 are now like sets of eighteenth-century heroic couplets. 

 But the birds do not share their tastes. 



Kew Gardens are intended to be little more than an 



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