198 MY LIFE AS A NATURALIST 



tion of baby birds yet to be born, utters a super-song, excellent 

 in quality, rich in sweet cadence, as if to cheer the brooding 

 dame. 



Willow Warblers abound in the wilderness, for they find the 

 large tufts of grass suitable places in which to secrete their oval- 

 shaped nests, profusely lined with feathers. It needs a practised 

 eye, and an earnest search, to discover the well-hidden home- 

 stead of this Summer visitor, and its cousin, the Chiff-Chaff, 

 likewise a tree dweller, also resorts to the earth when entering 

 upon domestic duties. 



Beds of Stinging Nettles are allowed to run riot in the wilder- 

 ness, and keen competition exists among the new growths to 

 catch up in stature the browned stems of last year. Here search 

 may be made for the banded Snail, as well as the larvae >f the 

 Small Tortoiseshell and Peacock Butterflies, and the frail nest 

 of the Greater Whitethroat. A great haunter of Nettles, small 

 wonder, perhaps, that county people have christened this feathered 

 acrobat the Nettle Monger, or Creeper, for it loves to dwell among 

 these plant warriors when Summer time comes round again. 



Peering into the tall Poplars we discover, after much searching, 

 a few stray eggs of the Puss Moth, proving that the female insect 

 which pupated last June has made a safe exit from her remark- 

 able cocoon, placed perchance upon the trunk of the tree. She 

 lived for some weeks last year as a voracious larva, feeding upon 

 the leathery leaves until such time as she had eaten sufficient to 

 enable her to be prepared for a period of quiescence as a pupa 

 until May of the succeeding year. 



Around the hawthorn bushes a dipterous insect, known as 

 Saint Mark's Fly, is disporting itself in large numbers. As we 

 look up we are able to see quite plainly the curious way in which 

 the legs are held hanging downwards, and the mourning attire 

 that is worn. The presence of this insect probably accounts for 

 several pairs of Spotted Flycatchers which haunt the wilderness, 

 for, as we look towards the dark recess of an adjacent tree, we 

 are almost sure to discern the unmistakable form of this most 

 useful bird. If we stalk it close enough we shall be able to hear 

 the rapid snap of the beak, telling of another insect prisoner 

 safely interned, and, as if in thanksgiving for such an abundant 

 food supply near at hand, the wary bird, soberly clad and un- 

 obtrusive, utters a subdued " utick, utick," by way of bene- 

 diction. The fly-catching of this little-known bird is remarkable. 

 The insect legions of which it rids the air must go to m^ke up a 



