CHAPTER V. Woodland Birds 



WE have already seen that many birds are 

 by no means averse to man as a near 

 neighbour, owing to the abundance 

 of food he consciously, or uncon- 

 sciously, provides, and the same feature is notice- 

 able in connection with the woods. The small 

 coppice close by a village is far more prolific in 

 bird-life than the dense wood, stretching may-be 

 for miles, remote from any human habitation. In 

 the latter not only are individual birds less fre- 

 quent, but the variety of species is more limited. 

 The Crow tribe is much in evidence. Indeed, 

 the hoarse rattle of the Magpie and the Jay's 

 harsh scream seem the most fitting sounds to 

 break the silence of the woods, while the mocking 

 laugh of the Woodpecker has something startling 

 and uncanny about it. Still more noticeable is this 

 dearth of life in winter, when, bereft of leaves, 

 the woodlands assume a totally different character, 

 and their stillness becomes well-nigh oppressive. 

 The silence can almost be felt. You wander 

 along some woodland path and imagine yourself 

 to be the only living creature near ; you start at 

 the rustle of the red-brown carpet of dead leaves 

 or the snapping of a twig beneath your foot. 

 Your ears are strained to catch the slightest 

 sound, when suddenly you stumble upon a troop 



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