46 THE ROLL OF THE SEASONS 



as casual observation serves, the same birds, and both 

 of them, do come again to the same nesting-site. 

 They scold us from the same bough and, as it seems, 

 in the same voice and vocabulary, and use the same 

 perches when they feed their young. Our belief that 

 they are the same pair is a tender one. Perhaps we 

 fear to put it to the test. At any rate, there is some- 

 thing charming and not unnatural in the idea that 

 in the season when there is no marrying or giving in 

 marriage each pair sinks its individuality in the social 

 amenities of the flock, and that the return of spring 

 brings them together without regard to the other 

 attractions that the party affords. However that 

 may be, the tits that have attracted one another draw 

 imperceptibly apart day by day as the sun returns 

 to our hemisphere. There is little or no fighting 

 about it. Gorgeousness of plumage wins the day 

 at any rate, in the case of a new alliance. The 

 school cry of food found has a special significance 

 for her who has looked favourably upon the splendid 

 gentleman who utters it. By and by it ceases to be 

 a pack-cry; it becomes a mate-call, and then there 

 is built upon it the love-song. The pack becomes 

 not merely no necessity, but a bore, and the two 

 wander off into the wood alone, house-hunting. 



When the tit band breaks up, it releases one or two 

 other interesting co-foragers. Our best band this 

 winter, which consists mainly of blue and great tits, 

 has included most regularly a lesser spotted wood- 

 pecker. He is a rare bird, and has already departed 

 in quest of his mate. Possibly they arranged some 

 sort of tacit rendezvous last autumn. It may be that 

 be knew what other band she was in, and that they 



