52 More Tales of the Birds 



together again for a swift rush into another pool, 

 a pair of Sandpipers had made their scanty nest 

 and brought up their young in safety for two 

 years running. And here they were again, this 

 last June, safely returned from all the perils of 

 travel, and glorying in a nestful of four large 

 and beautiful eggs of cream colour spotted with 

 reddish-brown blotches. The nest was out of 

 reach even of the highest flood, but within 

 hearing of the river's pleasant chat : for without 

 that in their ears the old birds could not have 

 done their work, nor the young ones have learnt 

 the art of living. It was placed among the 

 bracken under an old thorn-bush, on the brink 

 of a miniature little precipice some four feet 

 high, the work of some great flood that had 

 eaten out the shaly soil. 



The Sandpipers felt no fear, for there was no 

 village at hand, and hardly a boy to hunt for 

 nests : the fishermen kept to the bank of the 

 river or waded in it, and only glanced for a 

 moment in admiration at the graceful figure of 

 the male bird, as he stood bowing on a stone 

 in mid-stream, gently moving body and tail up 



