BIRDS AND ARTILLERY FIRE 135 



Cheered by the news, the journey towards the Rookery was resumed, 

 and once again visions of the Somme were recalled. The little valley leading 

 to the wood was really exactly like the numerous ' Death Valleys ' of France ; 

 whilst the freshly torn earth and pungent smell of H.E. suggested derelict 

 rifles, equipment, and German tin hats. 



The trees themselves had suffered little from the recent hammering, though 

 more branches had been torn off, fresh shell splinters were sticking in their sides ? 

 and strongly smelling shell-holes had made their appearance amongst their 

 twisted roots. Some two hours later, the camera was fixed in position, and duly 

 focused ; the string attached (what a business that is without the help of a 

 companion !), and the dark slide withdrawn in readiness for an exposure. 



The writer, not wishing to disturb the Rooks unnecessarily, had decided to 

 retire to a shell-hole for a while before trying for a picture ; and, seated there, 

 was comfortably engaged in partaking of luncheon and watching the Rooks, 

 when he was rudely awakened to the disagreeable realities of life by a most 

 unexpected feeling. This feeling was caused by a dull ' bomp ' in the distance, 

 followed by the slow, slithering whine of an approaching ' heavy.' 



For a short moment that ' hollow feeling ' was experienced ; and then 

 the shell, passing away to the left, exploded on an adjacent range with an 

 almighty ' Ber-rang ' and the shriek of flying fragments. 



All being well, the business of photographing the Rooks proceeded the 

 results some of which appear on these pages showing that the Rooks returned 

 to their nests as though nothing untoward had occurred : that they behaved 

 in fact very much as the birds of France and Belgium behaved before they were 

 literally driven away by the utter devastation of their haunts. 



