42 JANUARY 



and the blackbirds (why are they all cocks ?) are in 

 multitude along certain hedgerows crossing a southerly 

 slope. Dunes (such as Saunton in Devon) fill with birds, 

 perhaps because loose sand can never freeze hard ; but 

 the sea s edge, where the coast slopes gently, and the 

 banks of the escaping river are the surest softeners, and 

 by far the richest larders. Even our inland thrushes will 

 gather to the coast to feed on shelly creatures in lieu of 

 the snails sealed up behind stones or the worms that have 

 retired a foot below the casts now standing up as hard as 

 hob-nails. Only the jenny wren, creeping like a mouse 

 along the edge of the brook or at the foot of the hedge 

 row, seems to have the secret of appreciating the local 

 alternatives to the ebbing tide and falling river. 



The winter migration, altogether contrary to the 

 spring and unlike the autumn, is a direct response to 

 weather. If the snow and frost are very sudden and 

 severe, especially when accompanied by strong wind, 

 the winter visitors are routed out of the north or east in 

 confused masses, and descend in multitudes on less 

 steely food-haunts. You may find them on occasion in 

 huge and weary congregations, arrested at the sea s edge. 

 One night, on the approach of the hard weather of 1916, 

 woodcock were seen -in hundreds in the sandy dunes at 

 Boulogne ; and I have known of similar numbers close 

 to St. David s Head, Doubtless in both cases they were 

 hurrying on a journey of life or death to the kindly 

 south-west, but, too weary to face a longer journey with 

 out rest, made a stage of the dunes. We cannot help 

 such flocks in these straits as we can feed our garden 

 birds ; but it is something to know that the flocks of 

 widgeon on London reservoirs (which are populous both 

 with fish and shell-fish) are as large as upon any seaside 

 flat. The town as well as the sea is a refiige. 



