22 HILLSIDE, ROCK, AND DALE 



get the first bite. All the trees on the lake-side 

 are reflected in the water, their sentry-like reflections 

 only being moved when the water-hens swim from 

 bank to bank. Altogether this is a sylvan scene. 

 A blackcap gives out his loud, mellow notes from 

 near his nest; and a chorus of other bird music greets 

 our ears as we wander round this picturesque stretch 

 of water. The trees are tinted with a variety of 

 green ; for spring is yet young, they are not yet 

 clothed in the more sombre garb of summer, and 

 their reflections make the water still more a decided 

 green. Each tree has its music : thrushes sing from 

 the elms; the coo-coo of ring-doves comes from 

 the cedars. The bushes are made charming with 

 the notes of warblers blackcaps, whitethroats, and 

 willow-wrens. A chiffchaff calls merrily from an 

 ash ; and near are a pair of goldcrests. This lake, 

 with the spring sunbeams playing on its surface, 

 and the music all round about, is the home of the 

 little grebe or dabchick. These birds love quietness ; 

 here is solitude as well as perfect harmony. We now 

 know something about the bird's haunt ; we will 

 therefore watch the dabchick at home. 



There is a ripple on the water, only a slight dis- 

 turbance; the widening rings expand and the pond 

 is soon still again. But watch the surface once 

 more ; the water is disturbed, and we see just the 

 head and neck of a bird. The grebe quickly glances 



