170 The Amateur Poacher 



slanting forward — slowly, like a parachute — sing, sing, 

 singing all the while till the little legs, that can be 

 seen against the sky somewhat depending, touch the 

 earth and the wheat hides him. Still from the clod 

 comes the finishing bar of his music. 



In a short time up he rises again, and this time 

 from the summit of his flight sinks in a similar 

 manner singing to a branch of the oak. There he 

 sings again ; and, again rising, comes back almost 

 to the same bough singing as he descends. But he 

 is not alone : from an elm hard by come the same 

 notes, and from yet another tree they are also re- 

 peated. They cannot rest — now one flits from the 

 topmost bough of an elm to another topmost 

 bough ; now a second comes up from feeding, and 

 cries from the branches. They are tree-pipits ; and 

 though the call is monotonous, yet it is so cheerful 

 and pleasing that one cannot choose but stay and 

 listen. 



Suddenly, two that havs been vigorously calling 

 start forward together and meet in mid-air. They 

 buffet each other with their wings ; their little beaks 

 fiercely strike ; their necks are extended ; they 

 manoeuvre round each other, trying for an advantage. 

 They descend, heedless in the rage of their tiny 

 hearts, within a few yards of the watcher, and then 



