A DORSET DIARY 155 



■whole traceried design, behind which glow the meaning 

 and perspective of all the universe. But the eye travels 

 by chance upon a clump of beech from whose dark 

 filigreed twigs dangle a few late leaves of beaten gold 

 — and the setting fades before this new and intimate 

 enchantment. I notice that the tits in this mild winter 

 climate are as often to be seen in pairs as communities. 



November 25th. — Up in the hills I came out of a 

 lane into the open pasture. A crow started up at my 

 feet and pelted away, shouting out at the top of his 

 voice — " Look out, look out, here comes one of those 

 murderous human louts ! " Two redwings (I have seen 

 very few of them this winter) dashed away in an aban- 

 donment of terror with a wild irregular flight ; a small 

 flock of pipits sprang aloft with squeaks of dismay ; 

 a throstle plunged into the undergrowth of the hedge ; 

 three wood-pigeons left their tree and fanned the air 

 with the speed of the wind ; and a magpie, floating 

 amiably along, hurled himself headlong to the earth, 

 to put the slope between him and me. Such is the 

 welcome accorded to the human form divine. As men 

 pursue happiness, so bird-lovers the birds, and with the 

 same results. For it is ourselves who are the outcasts 

 of nature, not the crow and the pie. Our sovereign 

 capacity so misused has made us foreigners upon this 

 green earth. 



December 2nd. — I met a rarish bird to-day, the short- 

 eared owl, out at about three o'clock in the afternoon, 

 and hunting formally and silently close to the ground, 

 like a small feathered greyhound. On the hill I found 

 a victim of the sparrow-hawk, a male blackbird, with 

 but the golden mandibles and a pile of feathers for the 

 epitaph of Colin and his flute, who will sing no more 

 madrigals to his Chloe what time the " sweet militia " 

 of flowers begins once more to march along the vale. 

 It was a Cimmerian day, and the birds passed through 

 the mirk, like shadows of themselves. I made out a 

 couple of nuthatches on one of the rookery elms. There 

 is something very distinguished about the nuthatch, 

 and his beautifully disposed and harmonized colouring 

 and sprightly, independent, varied movements and 



