Woodside. 5 5 



little mother, for she flies out of the nest into the tree where 

 we can hear her ceaseless twittering. Don't touch the nest 

 so as to disturb it in any way, or she may forsake it. A 

 finger cautiously inserted enables us to count one, two, three, 

 four, five, six, seven eggs; they feel scarcely larger than 

 large peas. Yes, you may look at one if you do it carefully. 

 Pretty little eggs they are, with a reddish tint at the broader 

 end, although the ground colour is only drab. Put it back 

 tenderly, and then let the branch gently back into position, 

 so as not to jerk the nest. We will sit down for a few 

 moments and watch. Yes, there is the little mother creep- 

 ing back. See, she is just entering the nest again. Un- 

 doubtedly she is sitting ; in a few days how busy will she 

 and her mate, whom I see keeping a watchful eye over the 

 nest from the bough above, be, catching myriads of small 

 flies and other insects to feed such an array of hungry 

 mouths. 



A break in the wood discloses a rough piece of ground 

 bordered by a tall, straggling hedge. A strange bird skims 

 rapidly along, and a suspicion is aroused that it is the red- 

 backed shrike. Back it comes, and the suspicion grows 

 into certainty. We may be able to find its nest, but we 

 shall have to watch closely and wait a considerable time. 

 Let us take up a position behind this bush, so that the bird 

 can carry on its operations without being disturbed by us. 

 Lie down on the ground, and bring your field-glass to bear 

 on the hedge. Ah ! here comes the male bird, skimming 

 along the hedge, just clear of the bramble and hawthorn 

 branches that hang dangerously along the side. Yonder it 

 disappears, and does not seem to return again. 



There is a hedge-sparrow perched on yon hawthorn 



