THE BEE AND THE FLOWER 113 



most popular, beyond all question, is the willow catkin : 

 it bears the palm, if one may say so. It is to the pollen 

 harvest what the lime is to the honey flow or the ivy to 

 the starving lingerers in late autumn. It was an event a 

 month ago to see a bee return with yellowed thighs. 

 Now golden streaks tumble on to the alighting board as 

 catkins rain down in a spring gale under hazel or poplar. 

 And yet it is the duller, not the yellower palm that 

 is rifled. What an energy of work ! What a busy hum ! 

 What a multiplication of active life ! Is there any such 

 contrast in the methods of making the world go round 

 as in the hive on the slope and the pond at the foot, 

 where masses of frog spawn, inert and hideous, lie wait 

 ing the sluggish delivery of the season, as if they repre 

 sented the elemental emergence of living tissue from the 

 colloidal slime of an uninhabited world ? 



5- 



One April day I visited a neighbour with the intention 

 of making a survey of our two gardens, especially in 

 regard to the number of nests, but it rained and we 

 stayed within. The rain came down with delicious soft 

 ness and steadiness, and as we watched it through the 

 window there came a tap on the pane. A very lively, 

 long-legged, spindle-shanked, knock-kneed robin de 

 manded attention. The window was at once thrown 

 open, almost with apologies for its previous inhospitality, 

 a chunk of brown bread was cut with apologetic hurry, 

 and a chunk of butter laid on. The slice was then laid 

 on to the luncheon table. After one short visit to the 

 sideboard, where the bread had been cut, the robin 

 descended on the buttered piece and got to work. 



All this while we had been aware of a shrill, insistent, 



H T.V.E. 



