Rooks and Crows. 1 1 7 



to the ceaseless movements of the birds in the branches, 

 as they flirt and flutter and preen themselves and hop 

 from bough to bough. Very few observers, in the least 

 sensitive, not to say fanciful, would not be inclined at 

 such a moment to admit that there is something in 

 Wordsworth's lines : — 



"The birds around me hopped and played, 

 Their thoughts I cannot measure ; 

 But the least motion that they made, 

 It seemed a thrill of pleasure." 



Overhead, there is the first flock of wood-pigeons 

 proceeding to my neighbour Farmer Nicholls' fields to 

 look at some very fine early peas he has sown by way 

 of experiment; and an experiment it is also for the 

 pigeons, who know that they are sweeter than usual. 

 And now they are feeding young broods, and make 

 good use of buds and tender pods, and can pack their 

 food for their young ones in some kind of second crop 

 which they have, and in due time they neatly disgorge 

 it, and feed the young ones with pea-pulp admirably 

 suited to their tastes and digestions. 



Rooks, cawing in a subdued tone, or it may be that 

 the note seems soft because they are flying rather high, 

 are making their way from yonder elm trees to the 

 distant fields where the soil has just been upturned; 

 and in some cases where feeding grounds are not far 

 off they make a slant downward line for them direct 

 and almost noiselessly, attesting the truth of the old 

 saw about the early bird and the worm. 



They are the earliest on wing of our larger insect- 

 eating birds. They have to bear a good deal of the 

 opprobrium due by right to the crow — a distant relation, 

 who has gone on bad lines on two or three points. 



