IN A COUNTRY LANE. 



IT is near the middle of May, three hours before sunset, 

 and we find ourselves in one of the quiet, secluded leafy 

 lanes of a Home County. It has been a day tempered with 

 brilliant sunshine, and all Nature seems pleased. 



Turning round the corner out of the main road, by the 

 time-worn sign post the main post plastered with an 

 announcement of a sale at a neighbouring farmhouse we are 

 safe from interruption, and can hear and watch all that is 

 going on The first thing which attracts our notice is a 

 Redbreast hopping in front of us, turning his head first one 

 side and then the other to see if we are peeping into that 

 grassy tangled bank or that clustering ivy bovver for the nest. 

 Then, in the tall trees above us, the little Wood Wren, in his 

 green and gold livery, treats us to a delicate warble and then 

 off to the next giant forester on the other side of the lane, 

 for on the left it is woodland. 



Skirmishing through the tall trees a few restless Jays disport 

 themselves, but our attention is distracted by an Orange-tip 

 Butterfly flying right across us. A Nightingale takes up the 

 chorus of welcome afforded. He has surely not arrived here 

 long -that particular bird for he is in by no means good song 

 yet. Those rich, mellow notes are absent that we know full 

 well will come. 



The hedge on the right is sheltered from the still keen 

 winds, and here we look for and find nests in abundance. It 

 has been cut very low by the grey haired old hedgeman, but 

 Ivy clusters almost continuously, and clinging wandering 

 Honeysuckle is present in plenty. In that likely looking clump 

 we find a Hedge Sparrow's nest, containing four deliciously 

 blue eggs. Rather a large nest for so small a bird we 

 observe in passing. But lo, here, not a foot away in the 

 same clump, a speckled Thrush has placed its marvellous 



