THROUGH THE YEAR 33 



Each limb of many a tree here is a tree. It is the 

 same with some of the oaks. Six or seven full-sized 

 oaks fork out of the wonderful Knightwood Oak. 

 In wet, stormy days in July Mark Ash is seen in its 

 prime. Some of the great boles are grey with the 

 lichen that we more often find on the ash tree, and 

 the " green gloom " of the place is incomparable. 



Fifty years ago Mark Ash and Sloden were the 

 regular summer homes of the honey buzzard ; and 

 the common buzzard was there through most of the 

 year. A buzzard or two may soar there still, but 

 the honey buzzard has been abolished by egg col- 

 lectors. The rare egg collector is the enemy of all 

 who care for the forest. He is a child who never 

 grows up, a child of constant mischief. I say delib- 

 erately that any man who buys for his collection an 

 English specimen of a buzzard's or a honey buzzard's 

 egg acts against the public interest. It is a graceless 

 traffic. 



Mr. Gerald Lascelles has for years worked hard 

 to keep a few rare and beautiful things alive in the 

 New Forest. He has done, I believe, as much as 

 any man can do. But the slyness and greed of the 

 collector must often be too much for him and his 

 staff. To restore the buzzards, or to conserve the 

 few rare things still left to the forest, we must strike 

 at the receiver. Without a receiver the burglar 

 would soon find his trade profitless. 



