158 ORNITHOLOGICAL RAMBLES. 



picion by anxiety, and at last anxiety by convic- 

 tion that something untoward had occurred ; but 

 on entering the clump the whole truth flashed 

 upon me at once : splinters of short, brittle 

 boughs, on which the climber had attempted to 

 rest his feet as he ascended the tree, lay around, 

 mingled with portions of the lining, which was 

 composed of the hair of the fallow deer. Could 

 the robber have taken all the young birds ? So 

 to put an end to suspense, I mounted to the nest, 

 clutched one of the branches immediately beneath 

 it, raised myself up, and eagerly peeped into the 

 interior. Empty ! Not a bird, not a feather 

 within it ! Nothing but deer-fur and fledge-dust ! 

 What was to be done ? If even one squab had 

 been left there would still have been room for 

 hope that the attempt to protect the raven in his 

 native haunts might possibly not have turned out, 

 as now, an apparent failure. Another week 

 elapsed, during which all inquiries and they 

 were many and searching after the lost ones 

 were unattended with success. I now visited the 

 clump every day, but my ears were no longer 

 gladdened by the welcome bark of the parent 

 birds. Ring-doves and starlings roosted in the 

 branches of the trees, and even the spiteful jack- 

 daw, who had hitherto kept at such a respectful 

 distance, now chattered among the boughs, as if 



