86 THE GAMEKEEPER AT HOME. 



continue their search for grubs within thirty yards ; stop 

 to look at them, and they rise on the wing directly. So, 

 too, the finches in the trees by the roadside. Let the 

 wayfarer pass beneath the bough on which they are sing- 

 ing, and they will sing on, if he moves without apparent 

 interest ; should he pause to listen, their wings glisten in 

 the sun as they fly. 



The meadows lead down to the shores of the mere, 

 and the nearest fields melt almost insensibly into the green 

 margin of the water, for at the edge it is so full of flags, 

 and rushes, and weeds, as at a distance to be barely dis- 

 tinguishable there from the sward. As we approach, the 

 cuckoo sings passing over head ; ' she cries as she flies ' is 

 the common country saying. 



I used to imagine that the cuckoo was fond of an 

 echo, having noticed that a particular clump of trees over- 

 hanging some water, the opposite bank of which sent 

 back a clear reply, was a specially favourite resort of that 

 bird. The reduplication of the liquid notes, as they 

 travelled to and fro, was peculiarly pleasant : the water, 

 perhaps, lending, like a sounding-board, a fulness and 

 roundness to her song. She might possibly have fancied 

 that another bird was answering ; certainly she ' cried ' 

 much longer there than in other places. Morning after 

 morning, and about the same time — eleven o'clock — a 

 cuckoo sang in that group of trees, from noting which I 

 was led to think that perhaps the cuckoo, though 



