The Brook Path 1 69 



in a sidelong way, and finally hops down some three 

 inches head foremost, and alights again on the all but 

 perpendicular bark. But his tail does not touch the 

 tree, and in another minute down he flies again to 

 the ditch. 



A shrill and yet low note that sounds something 

 like ' skeek-skeek ' comes from a birch, and another 

 * skeek-skeek ' answers from an elm. It is like the 

 friction of iron against iron without oil on the bearings. 

 This is the tree-climber calling to his mate. He 

 creeps over the boles of the birch, and where the 

 larger limbs join the trunk, trailing his tail along the 

 bark, and clinging so closely that but for the sharp 

 note he would be passed. Even when that has called 

 attention the colour of his back so little differs from 

 the colour of bark that if he is some height up the 

 tree it is not easy to detect him. 



The days go on and the hedges become green — 

 the sun shines, and the blackbirds whistle in the trees. 

 They leave the hedge, and mount into the elm or ash 

 to deliver their song ; then, after a pause, dive down 

 again to the bushes. Up from the pale green com 

 that is yet but a few inches high rises a little brown 

 bird, mounting till he has attained to the elevation 

 of the adjacent oak. Then, beginning his song, he 

 extends his wings, lifts his tail, and gradually descends 



