160 BIRDS OF THE COUNTRYSIDE 



flight, and less mastery in the May-fly art of flight, 

 and utters no alarm-cry when roused, as the common 

 snipe always does. 1 I was standing watching a robin 

 singing, when a wren came bustling out of a hedge six 

 inches from my head. Suddenly catching sight of me, 

 he bounced up on a prominent twig and roundly abused 

 me for disturbing his honest toil. I sneaked off. The 

 small birds, thanks to the warmth and moist and open 

 weather, are very plump and well-conditioned many of 

 them quite portly. 



December Wth. Another fine day and a walk down 

 to the sea, which, just before sunset, was of a very 

 subtle colouring in three layers, bottom slate-grey, 

 middle a pale, cold, delicate blue, and top powdered 

 over with gold dust. It was soon over, but magical, 

 prophetic while it lasted. It is not strange that an 

 ancient people looked upon the rainbow as the symbol 

 of a promise, for all natural displays out of the common 

 round are somehow annunciations. On the way down 

 I saw a pair of jays scolding a tawny owl, which re- 

 taliated with vigour. On the way back it grew dusk, 

 and, as I descended a hill, the vale suddenly burst into 

 song until it was " overflowing with the sound." The 

 dunnock struck up his trivial, shrill, small strain, the 

 wren was in fine voice, robins improvised and (best of 

 all) a throstle on an ash was giving a full service- 

 loud, brilliant, varied, harsh and dulcet at the same 

 time. He is never a fine singer his merit is his luxuri- 

 ance, copiousness, experimentalism and rich gladness. 

 But on this December day he seemed a spirit, and in 

 keenest sympathy with the human mind. I thought of 

 spring, and his melody said : 



We look before and after, 

 And sigh for what is not. 



1 That fine observer, T. A. Coward, says that " its call, if uttered, 

 is not so loud," when the bird is flushed. I can hardly disagree 

 with him. All I can say is that in my experience, and I have often 

 flushed the jack-snipe in East Anglia, I have never heard him utter 

 a sound. 



