132 HILLSIDE, ROCK, AND DALE 



me from hearing a nightingale's song, for there is a 

 nightingale in Chaffinch Lane. As I return up the 

 winding road this hum and roar lakes away some of 

 the silent charm which one would like to meet with. 



A few days more of spring sunshine have passed, 

 and when I once more make my way to my favourite 

 haunt I expect to see my chaffinch sitting on a 

 clutch of eggs. I hear the merry pink, pink, and 

 on feeling in the nest I find there are three eggs. 

 When I return from a ramble down the lane I 

 notice the chaffinch's notes are given with a touch 

 of sadness, and going to the nest I find all the eggs 

 are gone ! As the nest is warm I can tell the 

 eggs have only just been taken, probably by a 

 robber bird. I did not want these birds, which 

 always greeted me when I passed them, to desert 

 their chosen home, so I now pick up two small 

 stones, about the size and shape of a chaffinch's 

 egg, and place these in the nest, hoping that the 

 birds will think these are their eggs, and so lay more 

 to make up the full number. 



I had occasion to pass this nest three weeks later, 

 and my delight was great to see the hen still sitting. 

 My little ruse was a success, then ? But on rousing 

 the bird off her nest, to my surprise and disappoint- 

 ment I found she had been sitting all this time, but 

 only on the two stones ! 



