Woodside. 57 



advancing, then retreating. Then the hen bird catches hold 

 of the victim by the head, while the male seizes it by the 

 wing, and together they fix it more firmly. Now the hen is 

 plucking the bird, and soon her beak is plunged deep into 

 its body, and she fills her mouth with flesh. Off she flies, 

 and enters a thick hawthorn bush higher up. Faint cries 

 are heard, from which we know that she has her nest there. 

 She returns again and again, the male meantime keeping 

 watch. Now we really must disturb them ; off they fly as 

 we approach the hedge. From a small bush of dogwood at 

 our feet, almost covered with long grass some two feet high, 

 another hedge-sparrow gets up, and near the root of the 

 bush, well protected by the grass, is the nest with its young 

 ones, now, alas ! fatherless. Here, indeed, is a direct illus- 

 tration of the poet's lines 



" The mayfly is torn by the swallow, 

 The sparrow is speared by the shrike." 



I have witnessed similar incidents before, and I know that 

 in a few days Mrs. Hedge-sparrow and the young sparrows 

 will all have followed their father to his doom. 



Now let us have a look at the shrike's nest. What a per- 

 fect shambles the immediate area round it presents. The 

 nest itself is artfully concealed in the bush, but the bottom 

 of it is filled with the hard parts of beetles and butterflies 

 and the bones of young birds. On the ground under the 

 nest there is a perfect litter of the same kind of rejecta- 

 menta, bearing silent witness to the destruction which a 

 single pair of birds can do whilst bringing up their hungry 

 brood. 



Still under the shade of magnificent oaks and lordly chest- 

 nuts, of majestic ash trees and graceful birches, we wend 



