THE LACK OF BIRDS 33 



white-grey stretches of ground that I looked down 

 upon, until at length, after the work of excavating 

 and levelling was finished, and grass-seed sown, the 

 tired eye was refreshed with the sight of a green 

 lawn-tennis ground, a wide grass walk, and the turf 

 in the rose-garden. 



At first there were no birds. This was a sad 

 disappointment ; but slowly, as small trees that 

 were put in grew larger and climbers on the house, 

 like passion-flower and honeysuckle, formed even 

 in winter some slight protection, they came to us. 

 Now, even in early December, as I walk across the 

 square, paved piazza to the front door, there is a 

 sudden rustle, out of the leaves comes a quick 

 flash, and away goes some little winged creature, to 

 wait until I am securely inside before returning to 

 his hiding-place. Only those who have lived, some- 

 what like a settler, upon a field and have gradually, 

 year by year, made a garden of a portion of the 

 countryside, realise what it is to hear no nightingale 

 or cuckoo, to see no little tits or finches, but to have 

 only the song of the lark and the whirr of the 

 fieldfares' wings for company. Silent days with- 

 out movement or song of birds count but little, 

 even where a colony of human workers fills past 

 months and years with innumerable interests. 

 Then, with the growth of trees, and as roses, honey- 

 uckle, and clematis made dense pergola roofs, the 

 silent, shadeless hillside changed completely. On 

 a summer's morning I am now awakened by song, 

 and all through the day there is life and movement, 



I and the foliage that has increased and gives happy 



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