A Boyhood in Scotland 



Then perhaps Bob Richardson would loudly 

 declare that he "kenned mair nests than ony- 

 body, for he kenned twenty-three, with about 

 fifty eggs in them and mair than fifty young 

 birds — maybe a hundred. Some of them 

 naething but raw gorblings but lots of them as 

 big as their mithers and ready to flee. And 

 aboot fifty craw's nests and three fox dens." 



"Oh, yes, Bob, but that's no fair, for nae- 

 body counts craw's nests and fox holes, and 

 then you live in the country at Belle-haven 

 where ye have the best chance." 



"Yes, but I ken a lot of bumbee's nests, 

 baith the red-legged and the yellow-legged 

 kind." 



"Oh, wha cares for bumbee's nests!" 



"Weel, but here's something! Ma father let 

 me gang to a fox hunt, and man, it was grand 

 to see the hounds and the lang-legged horses 

 lowpin the dykes and bums and hedges!" 



The nests, I fear, with the beautiful eggs and 

 young birds, were prized quite as highly as the 

 songs of the glad parents, but no Scotch boy 

 [ 45 1 



