42 BIRDS, BEASTS, AND FISHES 



long before she flew up and ran away up the branch of an 

 alder growing from the tangled clump of briar and reed. But 

 the uxorious cock soon appeared, and it seemed to me ordered 

 her back, for she returned, as I stood, to her eggs, and sat 

 tamely enough, eyeing me from her compact shot-shaped nest 

 a piece of confidence with which the sedge-warbler has 

 never honoured me, though his eggs are smaller and darker 

 in colour, and not so easy to be seen. 



When the hot sun of July beats down upon the reed-beds, 

 the young nestlings are born in the romantic home that does 

 not rise and fall with the tide, as some aver. Then the cock 

 and hen are busy indeed gathering insects, running up and 

 down the reeds like mice, hanging in all sorts of quaint 

 positions as they collect maggots and insects and the embryo 

 dragon-flies hatched on the reeds. During this busy time 

 both birds keep near the young, one sitting on the nest and 

 uttering hoarse little notes, whilst the mate, who is col- 

 lecting insects perhaps from the blazing marsh-marigolds, 

 answers in the same voice. Or at intervals the cock breaks 

 into short joyous snatches of song. At this season, too, 

 they frequent clumps of sallow in search of flies, of which 

 they are very fond, but they seldom leave the reed-beds far, 

 and when they choose a secluded swamp, are rarely to be 

 seen once their nursery duties have begun ; in short, they 

 keep to the reeds all summer. 



The nestlings cannot fly far when they leave the cradle, 

 but climb about the reeds like mice in search of food, mov- 

 ing rapidly through the reeds, or at times nestling together 

 upon a reed-spray, making as pretty a little picture as one 

 could wish for. Should you happen to come upon the fledg- 

 lings in their cradle, they will, like sedge-warblers, run out 

 of their nest and glide away like mice into the reeds. But 

 they soon grow, and when the September moon arrives the 

 reed-beds are again silent, for the warblers have gone across 

 the seas, and never a one is to be heard through the grey 

 cold winter. 



