228 NATURE IN DOWNLAND 



sacrilegious hand with hatchet or billhook ever cut a 



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way through it. 



This wood is a paradise of the missel-thrushes in 

 autumn. Numerous all over the downs, it is not 

 strange when rough weather comes that they should 

 gather to it, not only for the sake of the perfect 

 shelter from the rain and wind it affords, but also 

 for the abundance of the fruit they like so well. They 

 seem to delight as much in its insipid sweet taste as 

 in the somewhat acrid flavour of the orange-scarlet 

 rowan berries. In the yew-berry there is a disagree- 

 able bitterness under the sweet gummy pulp, which 

 is probably deleterious in a slight degree; but the 

 bird tastes only the sweet, and is not concerned about 

 the wholesomeness of his food when he is eating not 

 to satisfy hunger, but purely for pleasure. In most 

 places where yew trees are few and far between, we 

 see that the missel-thrushes, assisted by the song- 

 thrush and blackbird, devour the fruit as soon as it 

 ripens. In this wood the profusion is so great that 

 the birds can go on with their feast into October 

 without making much impression on the myriads of 

 rose-coloured berries that gem the dark feathery 

 foliage. And they do feast ! It is worse than a feast, 

 it is a perfect orgie. When a bird, with incredible 

 greediness, has gorged to repletion he flies down to 

 a spot where there is a nice green turf and disgorges, 

 then, reheved, he goes back with a light heart to 

 gorge again, and then again. The result is that every 



