WINTER SHIFTS. 223 



to the birds, there is a flutter like that about a 

 pigeon -cot, so great is the number that fly from 

 those old yew-trees. 



Snow is certainly about ; one or two small flakes 

 have been seen ; now some larger ones fall. We 

 shall not be long without more, for the flakes cease 

 falling just as suddenly as they began. The air is 

 too cold yet for it to come down. As the daylight 

 begins to get low, lurid streaks show, low down 

 beneath the long line of cloud -belt. There is a 

 murky light above that gets darker in tone, 

 for the belt is moving and appears to rise. The 

 winds moan as though heavily laden, and com- 

 plaining about all they had to carry and drive be- 

 fore them. Beside the hedgerows the blackbirds 

 are busy, tossing the leaves from side to side, peer- 

 ing under hollow places for snails or worms. In- 

 stead of their usual shriek of alarm they give only 

 a half-smothered cry as they slip through the hedge, 

 to get away from you. The hedge-sparrow, that 

 beautiful singer when other songsters are still, 

 glides in and out of the hedge, flirts and shuffles 

 with his wings, justifying one of our local names 

 for him, that of " shuffle-wing." He is silent now, 



