7O WILD LIFE AT HOME. 



Carrion-crows are the Dick Turpins of the 

 feathered world, and woe betide the small bird that 

 builds its nest in an exposed situation anywhere in 

 the neighbourhood of Elstree! During my residence 

 in the district I do not think I can call to mind 

 one instance of a moorhen succeeding in hatching 

 off her first clutch of eggs. The species has to 

 depend for its perpetuation on the growth of reeds 

 and rushes which the old birds bend over their 

 nests and thus hide their eggs. I knew a case of 

 a bird building and laying twice in a pond this 

 last spring, and having each nest promptly robbed 

 by the crows. By the time she was ready to make 

 a third attempt the reeds had grown sufficiently 

 tall for her to bend them down, and so screen her 

 treasure-house from inquisitive eyes above. In this 

 way she succeeded in bringing off a brood. I often 

 watched these chicks from behind a thorn-bush 

 growing on the bank of the pond, and one day 

 caught four out of five of them by what, if they could 

 have been consulted upon the matter, they would 

 no doubt have considered a mean little trick. As 

 soon as they had come out from their hiding-places 

 amongst the rushes fringing one side of the pond, 

 I struck a bit of barbed wire in front of me with 

 my stick, and the rattle of it sent them all 

 scuttling back again. Making a mental note of 

 where two of their number disappeared, I walked 

 round and caught them and put them in my cap, 

 where they protested loudly against bondage. As 



