MAY. 123 



in the proceedings of this particular pair. Perhaps it was their first 

 attempt at nidification. 



Montain Ash and White Chestnut out in flower, Pink Chestnut 

 nearly bursting, Laburnum flowering, Copper Beech very beautiful 

 now, also Star of Bethlehem, various Pansies and Wallflowers. Lilies 

 of the Valley and Tulips, in cottagers' gardens. How creditable these 

 latter look, with the trim edging of Box and neatly-designed beds and 

 borders. There is no greater treat than to ramble through a village 

 and note the beauty of the villagers' little plots, and inhale the 

 sweet aroma. 



Watched a pair of Starlings carrying in grubs to a nest of young 

 ones, safely hidden in the roof of an old shed. What a noise they 

 make each time a new course is served up I I found a dead Starling 

 in the fields to-day, lately deceased. What a pity to kill such a useful 

 bird; but perhaps it died a natural death, although birds do not seem 

 to me to die naturally to any extent, for it is not often one comes 

 across a great many corpses. How, then, do wild birds die? The 

 question has already been asked by Richard Kearton, and others. 

 There is little doubt a closer study of this question would elicit a 

 great deal of interesting information. 



Saw some young Lapwings (what pretty little feathered creatures, 

 to be sure), and stood watching the parent birds endeavouring to lure 

 us away. Has the reader ever looked at this bird through a good, 

 powerful glass? The beautiful crest, and dark and white plumage, is 

 quite a study. 



Along a tall Hawthorn hedge 1 spotted a male Red-backed Shrike, 

 better known as the Butcher Bird. What a fine bird the male is in 

 his grey crown and nape, black lores and ear-coverts, chestnut-brown 

 mantle, grey tail-coverts, and rose-buff under parts, and how prominent 

 the black stripes near the eye. The sharply toothed and hooked beak 

 is very distinguishable, too. Presently the female joined her mate, 

 and at they seemed to have business in the neighbourhood, curiosity 

 led me to search that hedge. The result confirmed my suspicions, 

 for I found the nest, pretty high up, containing two beautifully-marked 

 eggs. The birds were mostly silent, uttering a weak note, something 

 like the call of the Yellow Bunting. This pair of birds have certainly 

 not lost much time since their arrival amongst us during the first few 

 days of the month. 



I rambled this evening through one of the wooded parks with 

 which Hertfordshire has been blessed ; the avenues of Beech, Elm, 



