STORY OF A JACKDAW 269 



mainly on account of the shrewd and humorous and 

 dramatic way in which it was related to me by a 

 little boy of the working class, 



I met him on a bright Sunday morning at the 

 end of June in the park-like grounds of Walmer 

 Castle* I had not long been seated on a garden 

 bench when a daw came flying to a tree close by 

 and began craning her neck and eyeing me with 

 one eye, then the other, with an intense, almost 

 painful curiosity; and these nervous movements 

 and gestures immediately revealed to me that she 

 had a nestful of young birds somewhere close by. 

 After changing her position several times to view 

 me from other points and find out what I was there 

 for, she came to the conclusion that I was not to 

 be got rid of, and making a sudden dash to a tree 

 standing just before me, disappeared in a small 

 hole or cleft in the trunk about forty-five feet above 

 the ground, and in a few seconds came out again 

 and flew swiftly away. In four or five minutes she 

 returned, and after eyeing me suspiciously a short 

 time flew again to the tree and, vanishing from sight 

 in the hole, remained there, I was intently watching 

 that small black spot in the bark to see her emerge, 

 when a little boy came slowly sauntering past my 

 bench, and glancing at him I found that his shrewd 

 brown eyes were watching my face and that he had a 

 knowing half-smile on his lips. 



