The Bird Book 



a host of other birds to mind. How the Black- 

 birds and Thrushes delight in them ! How 

 familiar is the rustling of dead leaves as the birds 

 hop about ! How familiar, too, is the tap-tapping 

 of the Thrush as he batters some unfortunate 

 snail on his favourite stone ! The shrubbery 

 forms the base of all his operations. Thence he 

 sallies forth on to the lawn with a few rapid hops, 

 and stands listening intently. Suddenly he makes 

 a dash at a worm, which no human eye could 

 detect, and there ensues a spirited tug of war, of 

 which the worm seldom, if ever, gets the better. 

 It is hauled from its retreat and left to wriggle 

 on the grass, while the Thrush looks around to 

 see if he is watched. The next proceeding is to 

 break it up for its young, or, if it does not happen 

 to be the nesting season, the worm receives 

 even shorter shrift still. 



Equally familiar are the cock Blackbird, with 

 his bright orange bill, and his dingier brown 

 spouse, sweeping down to the lawn and grace- 

 fully raising their tails as they alight. Except 

 during the nesting season the Blackbird is a shy, 

 retiring bird, skulking among thick bushes, and 

 betaking himself, for the most part, to the hedge- 

 rows as the winter draws near. But at least 

 a pair remain faithful to the shrubbery, which 

 affords a welcome cover, especially if they are 

 accustomed to be fed from the windows when 

 snow is on the ground. 



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