WOODLANDS 



birds are easily seen, but the moment they descend 

 among the bushes are difficult to find. Chaffinches 

 call and challenge continually these trees are 

 their favourite resort and yellowhammers flit 

 along the underwood. 



Behind the broad hedge are the ploughed fields 

 they love, alternating with meadows down whose 

 hedges again a stream of birds is always flowing to 

 the lane. Bright as are the colours of the yellow- 

 hammer, when he alights among the brown clods 

 of the ploughed field he is barely visible, for brown 

 conceals like vapour. A white butterfly comes 

 fluttering along the lane, and as it passes under a 

 tree a chaffinch swoops down and snaps at it, but 

 rises again without doing apparent injury, for the 

 butterfly continues its flight. 



From an oak overhead comes the sweet slender 

 voice of a linnet, the sunshine falling on his rosy 

 breast. The gateways show the thickness of the 

 hedge, as an embrasure shows the thickness of a 

 wall. One gives entrance to an arable field which 

 has been recently rolled, and along the gentle rise 

 of a " land " a cock-pheasant walks, so near that 

 the ring about his neck is visible. Presently, be- 

 coming conscious that he is observed, he goes down 

 into a furrow, and is then hidden. 



The next gateway, equally deep-set between the 

 bushes, opens on a pasture, where the docks of 

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