At Home with Wild Nature 



burrows in the field it could have taken to for safety, 

 supposing it had been driven out of the wood by a pur- 

 suing enemy, but the fact that it had entered the field 

 in quite an unperturbed state of mind, and had not 

 attempted to go near any hole or burrow entirely mysti- 

 fied me as to why it should be going to rest at such a 

 peculiar hour of the day. 



An old friend of mine, who did a little pheasant 

 preserving in a waterless wood on the North Downs, had 

 tubs sunk here and there and filled with water for the 

 convenience of his birds. In droughty weather these 

 drinking-places were patronized all day long by crowds 

 of thirsty feathered folk. 



In the middle of one tub a large flint had been sunk 

 in such a position that its upper part just stood above 

 the level of the water, and small birds unable to drink 

 from the sides of the vessel could alight upon it and sip 

 and bathe at their leisure. 



This particular tub was frequented every day by a 

 hot and thirsty throng, drinking, splashing, quarrelling 

 and swearing at each other to their hearts' content. 

 I counted the representatives of sixteen different species 

 one day, varying in size from a blue tit to a pheasant, 

 and the artful methods adopted by the weak in order to 

 rid themselves of the presence of the strong were almost 

 unbelievable. Whilst a song thrush was standing on 

 the flint enjoying a drink taken in leisurely sips a 

 thirsty and impatient great tit came along, and, hop- 



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