296 WOODLANDERS AND FIELD FOLK 



and the country children call it " nut jobber." 

 Essentially a bird of the hazel copse, he may almost 

 always be found there if you invade his haunts. 

 That gnarled and twisted gate-stoop is weathered 

 out of all original conception. There are gaping 

 crevices on its surface, and the nuthatch has long 

 utilised these. Let me lie here under the bushes 

 and wait for his coming. 



Everywhere the half-grown pheasants are feeding 

 wandering in search of beech-mast, or digging up 

 ant-hills to come at the hidden larvae. The dor- 

 mouse nimbly runs along a branch and is soon lost 

 in the foliage. There a tiny mouse-like creeper 

 clings to a lichened bole, and pigeons are coming 

 and going among the beeches. A jay chatters from 

 the glade, and flies from clump to clump with its 

 heavy flight and harsh cries. Partridges are scratch- 

 ing among the brown loam; and now and then 

 rabbits pop in and out of the green brackens. 

 Presently the nuthatch flits to the old gate-post and 

 fixes a nut in the crevice. It taps lightly at first, 

 then as though it had fasted for days. Retiring an 

 inch or so, it brings down its bill with the whole 

 force of its body, and bits of the stubborn shell 

 begin to yield. Soon a hole is made, and as pieces 

 of the kernel fly off they are snatched up ere they 

 reach the ground. Again and again it darts, always 

 securing the chips, until the dwindling shell yields 



