140 



unhappy Missel Thrush was indeed dead on her eggs, minus her head, which 

 had obviously been swept clean from her body. 



Those who have seen a Sparrow Hawk come down like a flash, pick up a 

 bird in its stride, and carry it away, will realize that it is the only creature 

 who could have done this thing. So instantaneous must have been the death 

 of the Missel Thrush that her body had not moved ; it was covering the eggs 

 with slightly spread wings, and puffed -out breast feathers, exactly as though it 

 were alive. 



Such tragedies not infrequently occur ; and I am reminded of an instance 

 which occurred during the past summer, whilst I was cinematographing the 

 Rooks. 



I was walking near the Rookery one afternoon towards the end of 

 May, when I noticed a Rook fluttering on the top of a tall willow-tree. 

 For a while I stood and watched it without realizing what was amiss, for it 

 first of all fluttered violently, without apparently making any headway, and 

 then sat up on the branch again. 



As I drew nearer the Rook repeated this extraordinary movement and 

 it occurred to me that perhaps it had had its leg broken by one of the party 

 who were Rook-shooting some days before, and got the limb caught somehow 

 in a fork of a branch. 



So I proceeded to climb the tree with the idea of discovering the reason 

 of the Rook's 1 strange behaviour, and found that, somehow or other, it had 

 got some sheep's wool twisted around its leg, just above the foot, and that this 

 in turn was twisted firmly round one of the topmost branches of the tree. 

 I need hardly say that I set the terrified Rook free, and am confident that, 

 had I not done so, he would undoubtedly have shared the fate of the 

 numerous small birds that have become entangled in horse-hair. 



It may not be generally known that it is the habit of the Mallard, or Wild 

 Duck, in certain localities to nest in trees as well as upon the ground, and one 

 is inclined to wonder whether the peculiarity is due to an instinctive fear of the 

 foxes. In any case it seems to originate, at least in some districts, where foxes 

 are numerous, and to continue after they have been exterminated. 



In one district with which I am particularly familiar it is not at all unusual 

 to find a Wild Duck's nest in one of the hollow oak or elm-trees with which the 

 place abounds ; and in spite of the fact that the young ducks when hatched 

 have to risk a tumble to the ground, they generally seem to get safely away. 



During the early summer of 1914, I happened to be staying in this district, 

 and went one day to investigate a hollow elm which in the previous year 

 contained the nest of a Barn Owl. I climbed the tree very quietly, as I thought 

 that I might be able to peep in on the owl, and, if she were sitting, to retire 

 without disturbing her. I received a rude shock when, just as I was going to 

 peep stealthily into the hole, a Wild Duck, with a whirr of wings, dashed out, 



