A VILLAGE IN HAMPSHIRE 183 



conflict between opposing impulses in birds are always 

 fascinating, and the panting heart of the thrush on 

 her nest telegraphs " fly, fly " to the mind, but the 

 mind at the point of yielding rallies and beats the 

 clamour down, whispering, " stay, stay, and the monster 

 will pass your cottage by, or if he sees you will be 

 charmed from his mischief by the supplication of your 

 eyes." Of course, nor heart nor mind nor eyes make 

 any difference. Who bothers about a thrush's feel- 

 ings ? There was a conspicuous thrush's nest in my 

 blackcap wood where I used to witness this drama 

 whenever I passed through, until there came a day 

 when there was nothing to be seen but a ruin. Sic 

 vos non vobis nidificatis aves ! but for any passing 

 hooligan's pleasure in spoliation. I doubt whether one 

 in a hundred first broods of the song-thrush ever get 

 off, for the birds are extraordinarily amateurish in their 

 choice of sites for building, picking out exposed places 

 which compel your attention. Let us hope that Natural 

 Selection is teaching the too eager and amorous thrush 

 love's patience as well as his fire, for, with so clever a 

 predatory animal as man to cope with, it behoves it 

 to wait until its homes are well screened from prying 

 eyes. Of course, late broods do make up some leeway, 

 or the race would be extinct, and it is probable that 

 the nesting season is already less premature. It is 

 that or greater prolificacy, and I have myself seen young 

 thrushes as late as early October. 



The chaffinch's song, again, pleases me as a jovial, 

 natural sound, and a bold, and for little else. It enlivens 

 the heart more for its association than its intrinsic sake, 

 and is coarse, flat, and metallic in musical quality. 

 The melodies of yellow-hammer and wren are also set 

 phrases, but they never fail to give delight. The interest 

 of the chaffinch's song is one of character and manner, 

 not sound ; it is a defiance, a king-of-the-castle challenge, 

 and it shouts " Ha, ha ! " as it smells the battle afar 

 off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting. The 

 chaffinch is finest in his spring coat of many colours, 

 black, grey-blue, green, chestnut, yellow and white, as 

 he puffs out his chest on a twig and dares his fellows 



