THROUGH THE YEAR 193 



see those white-barred wings tossing through the 

 air. They are full too of play and spirit, ever en- 

 engaging in those hot little chases so characteristic 

 of the chaffinch later in the year, when his breast 

 begins to burn with colour. 



GOLDCREST AND THE TITMOUSE 

 TONGUE 



It is not often one can see the mite of food a gold- 

 crest or a long-tailed titmouse gets by one of its 

 sharp, sure pecks. One must take it for granted ; 

 and the same with the brown wren in the hedge 

 bottom. But now and then one may actually see 

 the grub in the goldcrest's bill. I saw a bird flit 

 swiftly to the end of a drooping branch of pine and, 

 hovering there an instant, sweep a thin caterpillar 

 off one of the needles. The grub was green, matching 

 the needle, but at close quarters, I imagine, no 

 matching in colour, if in form, could cheat that 

 piercing sight of goldcrest. Colour and form 

 mimicry do often shield an insect from a bird, but 

 not at close quarters. Within the radius of a foot 

 or two the goldcrest eye brings all under a 

 magnifying glass. 



Watching the movements in winter of the titmouse 

 and goldcrest flock, one is more and more impressed 

 by this magnifying power. The sight of a goldcrest 

 is acute as its cry. The thrust of its exquisite little 

 beak is as needle-sharp as its call. 



I often wished to make a vocabulary of all the 

 notes of these small bird flocks of titmice five kinds 



