WHEN LIFE STIRS. 13 



a young friend of mine as we stood by the cottage 

 gate together. For the time has come, noticed by 

 ancient lovers of the woods and all that -pertains 

 to woodland lore, when the merle and the mavis 

 are singing. 



Flitting and piping, first on one side of the 

 hedgerows, then on the other, are the bullfinches, 

 making for the gardens. 



On a bit of greensward by the edge of the 

 woodland road a doe rabbit has brought her litter 

 of young ones from her stop in a ploughed field on 

 the other side of the hedge. As they sit crouched 

 round about her, the old doe looks as if she was 

 sitting among some scattered potatoes ; for only 

 the arch of the youngsters' backs show, and they 

 are close to the hedge, ready for a bolt if required. 

 And well they may be, for the dusk of a spring 

 evening is drawing on, and before we cleared the 

 last timbered copse we heard very catlike mewings 

 from some young owls of the long-eared kind. In 

 fact, for half an hour I had been amusing myself 

 by getting in one of the hollow ash pollards and 

 calling one of the " branchers " to me. He was 

 not able to fly, but he could flutter and jump from 



