APRIL 83 



with an eye to spare for the labours of the gardener 

 who has just got in the early-sown annuals. Mid-day 

 comes and his back is turned. There is a general 

 adjournment of the finch tribe to the seed-beds. Woe 

 to the mignonette, alas for the prospects of the candy- 

 tuft ! By the middle of the month young Woodlarks 

 may be upon the wing. Rather later we see the 

 young Blackbirds, spotted and thrush-like, hopping 

 after the cock bird for food, and by the end of April 

 numerous hopeful broods are launched upon the world, 

 unwotting of such pitfalls as await them at the hands 

 of boys, cats, weasels and hawks. 



But to wander farther afield this stirring April day, 

 through the green water-meadows and along the sunny, 

 rippling brook. The willows are humming with bees, 

 and the stream has a margin of widely-open celandines, 

 an embroidered edging in green and gold. Moorhens 

 croak and fight in the cover of the sedges. Watching 

 patiently, one may see the shy Water Rail steal out 

 to feed amongst the cresses of a weed-grown run. A 

 cock Reed Bunting chirps from the osiers, showing 

 his black cap and white collar, and a pair of King- 

 fishers flash past, the one chasing the other with shrill 

 piping note. Following the stream to the rough 

 boggy pastures in which it takes its rise, we are greeted 

 by the cries of anxious Lapwings, and may note that, 

 while the male bird at once throws himself into the air 

 with frantic tumblings, the hen steals quietly off her 



