i 4 BIRDS IN TOWN AND VILLAGE 



the exposed nightingale, perched only five feet 

 above the spot where the attack had been made 

 and the sparrow had so nearly lost his life, had 

 continued singing; and he sang on for some min- 

 utes after. I suppose that he had seen the cat 

 before, and knew instinctively that he was beyond 

 its reach; that it was a terrestrial, not an aerial 

 enemy, and so feared it not at all; and he would, 

 perhaps, have continued singing if the sparrow 

 had been caught and instantly killed. 



Quite early in June I began to feel just a little 

 cross with the nightingales, for they almost ceased 

 singing; and considering that the spring had been 

 a backward one, it seemed to me that their silence 

 was coming too soon. I was not sufficiently re- 

 gardful of the fact that their lays are solitary, 

 as the poet has said; that they ask for no wit- 

 ness of their song, nor thirst for human praise. 

 They were all nesting now. But if I heard them 

 less, I saw much more of them, especially of one 

 individual, the male bird of a couple that had 

 made their nest in a hedge a stone's throw from 

 the cottage. A favourite morning perch of this 

 bird was on a small wooden gate four or five 

 yards away from my window. It was an open, 



