BIRDS AND ARTILLERY FIRE 131 



reached : through this, and across a heap of bricks and mortar to another shell- 

 hole which led into the cow-shed. 



It was necessary to be extremely careful in getting through this shell-hole 

 into the cow-shed, for through the door on the right the German trenches could 

 be plainly seen, and should the enemy have any reason to believe that the place 

 was occupied they would be certain to shell it. 



The further end of the cow-shed was facing the enemy, and it was from here 

 that we endeavoured to fulfil our particular mission. We had two loop-holes 

 in use — one that looked out on to the German lines immediately in front of us, 

 and the other, that we had recently constructed by removing a brick, was so 

 placed that it was possible to see portions of their trenches on our right. 



Originally the floor above had been used by the French machine-gunners, 

 as the empty rounds testified, but it could not be used in our time, as the 

 front of it had been blown out by a shell-burst. I went to investigate the 

 position one day, but found that the advantages of the extra height were not 

 very considerable. However, I did find, in addition to the empty rounds, a 

 nest of kittens that were as wild as hawks. 



Affixed to one of the beams in our cow-shed was a swallow's nest, shown 

 in one of the illustrations, in which were four or five eggs . The swallow eventually 

 grew quite accustomed to us, and would sit composedly upon her eggs with- 

 out taking the least notice of any firing that might be going on. 



Strange indeed it seemed that in such surroundings all these creatures 

 should be thus living, hunting, rearing their young, and behaving generally 

 as though things were quite normal. A blackbird once actually built her nest 

 in a stack from which a great deal of sniping was done, and even succeeded in 

 hatching her young — only, unfortunately, the enemy shelled the stack and set 

 it on fire. 



This particular morning happened to be unusually quiet, and we wondered 

 if such a desirable state of affairs might be accounted for by a relief having 

 taken place in the enemy lines during the night. But the morning mist had not 

 yet cleared, and we could rest assured that we should get plenty of ' strafing ' 

 quite soon enough. 



I was standing at the left-hand loop-hole, trying to distinguish movement 

 in the enemy's lines, when my attention was attracted by the song of a bird 

 that sounded somehow familiar — and yet I could not place it. Surely I 

 had heard it at home — but — ^where ? Loud and insistent it came in short 

 Snatches, lasting only for a couple of seconds or so, and with but a short interval 

 before it was again repeated. It could not be a Missel Thrush, and yet — it was 

 extraordinarily like it. What could it be ? Suddenly it dawned upon me that 

 the song was none other than that of the Golden Oriole — a bird I had always 

 hoped to meet at home, but had always failed to locate. 



The song came from the direction of a wood on our left, from which a line 



