FOOTPATHS 



the bush. They always enter the bush, which is 

 scarcely two yards from me, on one side, pass 

 through in the same direction, and emerge on the 

 other side, having thus regular places of entrance 

 and exit. 



As I stand watching these birds, a flock of rooks 

 goes over, they have left the nesting trees, and fly 

 together again. Perhaps this custom of nesting 

 together in adjacent trees and using the same one 

 year after year is not so free from cares and jeal- 

 ousies as the solitary plan of the little whitethroats 

 here. Last March I was standing near a rookery, 

 noting the contention and quarrelling, the down- 

 right tyranny, and brigandage which is carried on 

 there. The very sound of the cawing, sharp and 

 angry, conveys the impression of hate and envy. 



Two rooks in succession flew to a nest the 

 owners of which were absent, and deliberately 

 picked a great part of it to pieces, taking the twigs 

 for their own use. Unless the rook, therefore, be 

 ever in his castle, his labour is torn down, and, as 

 with men in the fierce struggle for wealth, the 

 meanest advantages are seized on. So strong is 

 the rook's bill that he tears living twigs of some 

 size with it from the bough. The whitethroats 

 were without such envy and contention. 



From hence the footpath, leaving the copse, 

 descends into a hollow, with a streamlet flowing 

 27 



