108 BIRDS IN TOWN AND VILLAGE 



a rule, a bird with food in its beak will sit quietly 

 until the watcher loses patience and moves away; 

 but on this occasion I had not been standing more 

 than ten seconds before the bunting flew down to 

 a small tuft of furze and was there greeted by 

 the shrill, welcoming cries of its young. I went 

 up softly to the spot, when out sprang the old 

 bird I had seen, but only to drop to the ground 

 just as the wagtail had done, to beat the turf 

 with its wings, then to lie gasping for breath, then 

 to flutter on a little further, until at last it rose 

 up and flew to a bush. 



After admiring the reed-bunting's action, I 

 turned to the dwarf bush near my feet, and saw, 

 perched on a twig in its centre, a solitary young 

 bird, fully fledged but not yet capable of sus- 

 tained flight. He did not recognise an enemy in 

 me ; on the contrary, when I approached my hand 

 to him, he opened his yellow mouth wide, in ex- 

 pectation of being fed, although his throat was 

 crammed with caterpillars, and the white crescent- 

 shaped larva I had seen in the parent's bill was 

 still lying in his mouth unswallowed. The wonder 

 is that when a young bird had been stuffed with 

 food to such an extent just before sleeping time, 



