THE LESSER REDPOLL 117 



their sweet linnet-like notes, for they sing more naturally 

 when flying through the air in their peculiar chain of curves ; 

 and as the watcher draws off she will return to her work, 

 and the cock may fly off high through the air like a linnet, 

 flying a lovely pattern across the blue as he rises to the 

 crest of each imaginary curve with a sharp snap of the 

 wings, and descends another aerial curve, and so on till 

 he and his mate are lost in the liquid blue. Presently he 

 comes back shooting through the blue, and sweeps sud- 

 denly to the sacred sallow the tree where he and his mate 

 have reared their young for many a year past ; for they always 

 return to the same spot to nest if not disturbed. An old 

 gunner had one pair build in an apple-tree in his little patch 

 of garden, at a water-dike's edge, for two successive sum- 

 mers, and never would he allow them to be robbed, the 

 " poor little warmin," as he said affectionately. And when 

 the little blue eggs are hatched, they will never both leave 

 the nest ; for indeed, if you come upon them at the breeding 

 season, be sure the nest is near by ; they half betray it, the 

 incautious little minstrels. 



And in June and July you may see the cocks flying high 

 over the green marshlands with food for their young. Very 

 funny and serious they look as they fly with their curious 

 flight across the sky. At such season, too, they fall victims 

 to the farmer's gun, for they too love the turnip-seed, so dear 

 to their relatives, the linnets and greenfinches ; but whether 

 they feed their young upon mashed seed I am uncertain. 



And when the cares of nesting are over and the young 

 can fly strongly, in the early autumn they congregate into 

 flocks small and large, and descend across the glistening 

 dunes where the grey-green marram gleams purple-tinged 

 against the sky; for they love the chickweed that thrives 

 thereabouts, and in your walks by the foaming waves you 

 may put up flocks of them, sending them calling adown the 

 wet sea-beaches, their short cries being lost in the roar of 

 the everlasting ocean. 



