WATCHING ROOKS 261 



tion, and which is a very striking sound. Starlings 

 are mingled with these latter birds, flying amongst 

 them, yet in their own bands, and alighting with them 

 on the meadow, where they continue to form an hn- 

 perium in imperio. Both they and the rooks descend 

 at one point, in a black or brown patch, but soon 

 spread out over the whole meadow, from which they 

 often rise up in a cloud, and, after flying about over 

 it for a little, come down upon it again. At last a 

 vast flock of starlings — numbering, I should think, 

 many thousands — flies up, and, being joined by all 

 those that were on the field, the whole descend upon 

 the woods, through which they disseminate themselves. 

 Almost immediately afterwards, the rooks, as though 

 taking the starlings for their guide, rise too, and fly 

 all together to the woods. Now comes a troop of some 

 eighty rooks, and, shortly afterwards, another much 

 larger one — two or three hundred at the least — all 

 flying high, and going steadily onwards in one uniform 

 direction. They are all uttering a note which is diffi- 

 cult to describe, and does not at all resemble the 

 ordinary ' caw.' It has more the character of a chir- 

 rup, loud in proportion to the size of the bird, but still 

 a chirrup — or chirruppy. There is great flexibility in 

 the sound, which has a curious rise at the end. It 

 seems to express satisfaction and enjoyable social feel- 

 ing, and, if so, is very expressive. One feels, indeed, 

 that every note uttered by rooks is expressive, and if 

 one does not always quite know what it expresses that 

 is one's own fault, or, at any rate, not theirs. 



"Twenty more now pass, then twenty-seven, and, 

 finally, another large body of some two to three hun- 

 dred — all flying in the same direction. It is the last 



