IN THE WEALD 79 
are out of the nest, and they have to look after them 
now with the greatest care ; young birds have so 
many foes that watch for them and kill them if the 
chance offers. Though they do not sing, they are by 
no means silent, for you can hear the calls of old 
birds and the answers of the young. If several dif- 
ferent species are about, this kind of conversation is 
very animated. When there is a lull in the birds' con- 
versation, you can hear the whispering rustle of the 
wheat you may not see it, but you can hear it 
whisper, whisper, rustle, rustle, rustle, as you pass 
along. Now and then a lark soars up for a short 
time, and drops into the wheat again, without attempt- 
ing to sing. His second family of ' game-looking ' 
young ones are not far away from the spot where he 
dropped down. The sweet scent of hay comes and 
goes, as some slight current of air wafts it to and fro, 
from meadows you are not able to see for the wild, 
high lush-tangle of the stripes and the hedges. Huge 
docks, burdocks, teazles, or, as they are called here, 
kixes or kexes, hog-weed, and the so-called wild pas- 
mut (parsnip), with many other plants, tower up high 
above your head. As to the hawk-weeds, they blaze 
out in magnificent clusters of orange and pale gold, 
while purple thistle-blooms top and nod over all. If 
you wish to see tangle in perfection, you will find it 
