306 HAMPSHIRE DAYS 



fluffed -out and rather ragged - looking plumage, yet 

 pausing at short intervals in his task to emit his song. 

 So taken up was he with the feather - cleaning and 

 singing, that he took no notice of me when I walked 

 to within twenty-five yards of him. By-and-by, in 

 passing one of his long flight-feathers through his 

 beak it came out, at which he appeared very much sur- 

 prised. First he raised his head, then began turning 

 it about this way and that, as if admiring the feather 

 he held, or trying to get a better sight of it. For 

 quite a minute he kept it, forgetting to sing, then in 

 turning it about he accidentally dropped it. Bending 

 his head down, he watched its slow fall to the grass 

 below very intently, and continued gazing down even 

 after it was on the ground; then, pulling himself 

 together, he resumed the feather-preening task, with 

 its musical interludes. 



The worst day during the bad weather when the 

 young cirl buntings left the nest brought the wintry 

 spell to an end. A few days of such perfect weather 

 followed that one could wish for no higher good than 

 to be alive on that green earth, beneath that blue sky. 

 One could best appreciate the crystal purity and divine 

 blueness of the immense space by watching the rooks 

 revelling on high in the morning sunshine, looking in 

 their blackness against the crystalline blue like bird- 

 figures with outspread, motionless wings, carved out of 

 anthracite coal, and suspended by invisible wires in 

 heaven. You could watch them, a numerous company, 



