200 



MY LIFE AS A NATURALIST 



charms. I have visited the wilderness in the early days of a 

 New Year, and even then the lilting song of a solitary Mistle 

 Thrush acted as an overture for the great orchestra to which 

 I am such an attentive listener to-day. 



High up in a spruce fir a Greenfinch is responding to the 

 love passion that is within him, and I never remember hearing 

 this bird sing to greater advantage. On occasions this bird de- 

 ceives the listener with the variety of the notes it utters, and I 

 have often been perplexed as to its identity. 



Swifts are careering through the air at breakneck speed, their 

 sickle-shaped wings plainly visible against the clear sky ; Starlings 

 hawk in the air after insect prey, and chatter indescribable notes 

 when their fly-catching is suspended. 



A Cockchafer falls at our feet. We pick it up for an examina- 

 tion of its fan-like antennae, the joints of which are now folded 

 up, and, after remarking that this insect is one of the favourite 

 repasts of the Nightjar, we give the creature its liberty, and pass 

 on to sights and sounds anew. 



We cannot help noticing a whirr of wings towards the Horace 

 garden, a sudden disturbance of the sublime peace which there 

 prevails. A brace of Partridges have taken up their abode in 

 the wilderness, and the Terrier which followed us loyally all day 

 had put the birds to flight. Hence the commotion. 



FIG. 82. WILD RABBIT 



Rabbits are likewise sent speeding away hot afoot from the 

 seclusion of a neighbouring thicket, and a crafty Weasel only 



