Prebendary Lambrick — The Story of a Tame Book 7


described as robbing each other’s nests of sticks is, in fact, a splendid

system of fagging ? It is, at any rate, noteworthy in our case that

it is always the “ road ” birds that commandeer the “ house ” birds’

sticks. The cocks seem to take it as a matter of course, but sometimes

the little ladies resist the demand on their youthful spouses. The heads

of the clan seem to control the number of nests that are built, and it is

not an uncommon sight to see them pull nests to pieces and drive birds

away. The sentries are well posted, but never disturb the birds for

any of our household passing up and down the avenue at night, but if

a stranger comes the conversation is very general, and not always polite.

We know immediately the whortleberries are in on the hills by the

droppings under the trees. Last year in the autumn the great

parliament was held in a big field alongside their houses. Two or three

thousand birds came, arriving about ten o’clock in the morning and

settling in long lines across the field. From time to time companies

rose out of the line, circled in the air, and alighted in another line,

for all the world like going to attend another committee. On one

occasion a great sorrow befel us. Two crows came and settled among the

rooks, and although sitting, the whole colony rose into the air one Sunday

afternoon, divided into three bodies, and deserted the nests. One section

went off to the Mendip Hills, and we were able to observe the interesting

fact that they built in separate isolated trees, covering a fairly large

area, and not congregating together as usual, and began again to lay,

and brought up their young families. So much for the wisdom of the

agricultural committee of a county council who suggested beating

drums, lighting fires, collecting noisy boys to drive sitting birds off

their nests, and so put down the pest! They may be wise, but they have

not “ cornered ” Rookie yet!


But now I must come to the great day. On the 1st of May, 1912,


I was going up the avenue when I heard a most fearful cawing, and on

the ground there were two tiny fledglings, perfectly bare except for

their wing-quills. One was injured and died, the other, the screecher,


I took up in my hands and brought into the house. The next day I

went to Ireland, and when I came back after a month Rookie had taken

over the rectory, which she has ruled ever since. My housekeeper,

Miss Latcham, was the foster-mother, and the bird always goes to her



