BIRDS IN CORNISH VILLAGE 317 



qualities, which find an echo in us. Accordingly 

 I set myself to recall some of the latest anecdotes 

 of this kind which I had heard, and selected the 

 one which follows, not because it was more inter- 

 esting as a daw story than the others, but mainly 

 on account of the shrewd and humorous and 

 dramatic way in which it was related to me by a 

 little boy of the working class. 



I met him on a bright Sunday morning at the 

 end of June in the park-like grounds of Walmer 

 Castle. I had not long been seated on a garden 

 bench when a daw came flying to a tree close by 

 and began craning her neck and eyeing me with 

 one eye, then the other, with an intense, almost 

 painful curiosity; and these nervous movements 

 and gestures immediately revealed to me that she 

 had a nestful of young birds somewhere close by. 

 After changing her position several times to view 

 me from other points and find out what I was 

 there for, she came to the conclusion that I was 

 not to be got rid of, and making a sudden dash 

 to a tree standing just before me, disappeared in 

 a small hole or cleft in the trunk about forty-five 

 feet above the ground, and in a few seconds came 

 out again and flew swiftly away. In four or five 



