106 A YEAR WITH NATURE. 



whole row of glittering yellow and dark gold meets the eye, 

 with drooping bells of blue mingling in between. 



Near here is an old tree, the stump only left. There are 

 many holes in it, and on tapping it half a dozen mimicing 

 Starlings fly out. A pair of Green Woodpeckers inhabit one 

 of the holes too, and at the top in that jagged fissure the 

 little Tree Creeper has chosen a nesting place. In our illustra- 

 tion a nest is shewn placed in the hole of an old tree. Owing 

 to the searching nature of the camera the reader will easily 

 trace the red freckled eggs, mostly marked at the larger end. 

 The lining of hair and feathers is also very prominent. 



We rest awhile by the old rustic gateway, and whilst doing 

 so listen to the feathered musicians round about us. We hear 

 the curious love songs of three or four varieties of Titmice the 

 Blue, Coal, Long Tailed, and Great Tits the fluty Blackbird 

 and speckled Thrush : the cheery Hedge Sparrow and artful 

 Redbreast: the carol of a Wren and the warble of the Willow 

 Wren : the two Whitethroats : the Ring and Turtle Doves : 

 the cawing Rooks in the pasture lands and the Plovers on the 

 fallows : the trilling Skylark : the abrupt song of the Chaffinch, 

 and sombre-plumed Philomel. We can hear all these, and more 

 besides, though the musicians themselves may not all be seen 

 from our vantage ground. 



The Blue Tit places its nest in almost any hole. I have 

 found it down lamp posts, in letter boxes, banks, walls, and as 

 will be seen from our illustration in the hole of a tree. 



The sun is fast sinking now, but what a glorious sunset 1 

 The sky is blue for the most part, with floating patches of 

 light red, crimson, and pink. Against this we see through the 

 hedgerow a few Swallows and House Martins disporting them- 

 selves, and partaking of a few more insects before bed time. 

 The Yellow Bunting must not be overlooked, he is far too 

 conspicuous an ornament to our landscape to be passed over. 

 His nest is too snugly hid to attract our attention now, especially 

 as it is getting quite dusk. 



How we know this old lane. The gipsies used to camp here 

 regularly in our childhood's days, and just a stray party does 

 so now occasionally. We remember where in years gone by 

 we have found a certain rare nest, or seen a rare bird: we 



