FEBRUARY. 19 



small piece of the suet, after taking advantage of the scouting Sparrows 

 who signalled that all was well. 



The Sparrows are always with me in my little plot, and they seem 

 to resent the interference of their black relations. I say black, but, as 

 looked at through a pair of glasses, how beautiful the brown and green 

 and violet of the plumage. On my other Plum tree, the favourite. 

 Victoria variety, there were at one period of the proceedings thirteen 

 Sparrows watching the operations of the larger birds with evident 

 disgust and discomfort. During the afternoon I heard the welcome 

 " pink, pink " of a Chaffinch, watched a Song Thrush hopping down 

 the garden path in quest of food, noted a few Rooks flying home to 

 their roost-trees, and then the snow-flakes began to fall, and all was 

 still ; the birds departed, taking up their quarters under the snug 

 shelter of the evergreens, or huddled together in some barn or out- 

 house, where the Bats are clinging to one another in their long Winter 

 sleep. 



llth. It was blowing a gale this morning, and was piercing cold. 

 I broke up a seed cake into small pieces, and placed it within half a 

 dozen yards of my sitting-room window. At ons time the following 

 birds were all busy feeding simultaneously: one Robin, three 

 Starlings, two hen Chaffinches, and a score of House Sparrows. 

 I never saw a Robin in finer plumage and he was a plump as 

 a pumpkin. He does not seem to have suffered from the pangs 

 of hunger as yet, but it seems as if we are to have harder weather 

 still. The Starling is a most extraordinary bird; he is nervous, 

 excited, and never seems to be at rest, always on the move, 

 dancing or waddling, flying, fighting, or amusing the listener with 

 its ridiculous " song." But we must not forget his usefulness as a 

 Grub destroyer, and we forgive him for his little idiosyncrasies. The 

 seed cake seemed very much to the liking of all the birds I have 

 named excepting our favourite Redbreast, who, so far as I could see, 

 picked out the bread crumbs. Now and then the dear little fellow 

 hopped on to the water-butt to have a sip of water, but, alas, all is 

 frozen. There is a little icicle hanging on the end of the spout, and 

 he had a tug or two at this. Could he have thought it was not frozen ? 



A Great Titmouse was in the garden this morning, but did not 

 seem disposed to stay with us. 



This afternoon for the mid-day meal of pieces of meat, vegetables, 

 and bread, we had in the garden many feathered visitors. At one 

 time I counted not less than 15 Starlings, screeching the most hideous 



