THE WREN 69 



the other. And the tomtit fares badJy, for he never leaves 

 the cover of the hedge, like other birds, but goes flitting 

 along, hiding behind stumps, running into rat or rabbit holes, 

 or hiding in a hollow thorn-ball, occasionally escaping the 

 stones. At times a dog is brought along with his tormentors, 

 for since Tommy has scent, a dog will snuff and follow, as 

 eager for the hunt as the boys themselves. A few years 

 ago the boys could sell Tommy's tail feathers to a Norwich 

 chemist for tying flies, I presume. 



But the wiser tomtits hang about the stacks and remain 

 near the farmhouse, where food is more plentiful when the 

 stack tops are white and the pump is frozen. 



And so he lives his simple life, a joy to all, a dear little 

 childish co-mate in our journey through life. 



