XXII. 



NESTS AND NO NESTS. 



STROLLING across the moor in the sunshine 

 to-day, past the lonely pine where the night- 

 jar sits crooning to his lady-love in the 

 twilight, I came suddenly across his grey 

 mate herself, and saw her flutter up sleepily 

 in dazed surprise from the bare ground 

 where she was sitting. As she flapped her 

 mottled wings and sailed slowly away, like 

 a blinking owl disturbed in the daytime, I 

 noticed that I had lighted unawares upon 

 her nest, or rather, her eggs, for she lays 

 them on the open, without bed of any sort. 

 I left them untouched, for I am no collector. 

 A few minutes later, I came abreast of the 

 low cliff where the sand-martins have 

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