JULY. 201 



Birds seen or heard : Swallow (several little companies 

 congregating, surely very early), Rook, House Sparrow (small flocks 

 on waste ground after weed seeds), Swift (never out of our sight this 

 morning whilst we were in the open country), Turtle Dove (how 

 graceful the flight of this bird as it glides through the woodland 

 glade), Blackbird, Robin, Yellow Bunting (one of the noisiest birds 

 by the country side just now), Chiff Chaff, Chaffinch, Coal Titmouse, 

 Spotted Flycatcher (on an old Scotch Fir uttering its notes of u-tick, 

 u-tick, tick, &c.), Greenfinch (how is it this bird is so seldom included 

 in our lists?) Greather Whitethroat (uttering its alarm note, but of 

 course has gone off song or it would be included in our list of birds 

 singing), Ring Dove (still nesting), Jay (screaming as usual, and 

 frightening every wild thing within sound of its voice), and House 

 Martin. 



The following few notes are copied exactly as written down in 

 our rough note book: 



Sitting on a fallen Oak in the woods; Jays screaming behind us, 

 Swifts careering round in the meadow just over the hedge bordering 

 the wood, Ring Dove saying to his mate "Don't scold so, SukyI" 

 To the left it is dense wood, just where we are writing these lines it 

 has been cut, and makes a nice opening for us to observe what wild 

 life is astir. Turtle Doves are cooing now, and various Tits chattering 

 all around. A little Wren now starts his lively song. On the ground 

 at our feet is Dog's Mercury and Brambles, sweet-smelling Thistles, 

 Helleborine, and Burdock. Bees buzz by in their belts of blue, black, 

 and golden. How glorious the light and shade, the short and 

 lengthened shadows! Not a sound is to be heard but that supplied 

 by Nature herself. Now a Robin utters its winch-like note, the 

 Horses are seen in the park, through the hedge bordering the wood 

 we are in, flicking their tails to keep off the stinging and worrying 

 insects. A few noisy Sparrows are chirruping now, and a Chaffinch 

 is "pinking," whilst a little Coal Titmouse is calling plaintively. The 

 gentle breeze stirs the spreading branches of Oaks and Firs. Not a 

 soul disturbs us ; we are only a mile or so from a city of close on 

 20,000 inhabitants, but not a human being is to be seen or heard. 

 We are alone with Nature. Now a Blackbird utters a chuckle, and 

 the Rooks are cawing to the right of us. We notice the golden ears 

 of the corn through an opening in the hedge, and then dive into the 

 thick recesses of the copse where the sun hardly ever penetrates, where 

 the Enchanter's Nightshade and various Ferns flourish, and Money- 

 wort trails along the ground at the foot of the Marsh Thistles and the 



