JUNE 123 



river, where the young Pied Wagtails in their slaty- 

 grey plumage run about on their rafts of floating 

 water-buttercup, a pair of Kingfishers is rearing a 

 brood. Their sanitary arrangements are imperfect, 

 for filth trickling from the entrance and a strong smell 

 of ammonia are the invariable indications of a growing 

 family. 



All the quiet water-meadows this day of blue June 

 weather are given up to the hay and the cattle and the 

 birds, while the warm air is laden with the scents of 

 midsummer, of elder blossom, honeysuckle, meadow- 

 sweet and fern. A Moorhen, swimming amongst the 

 waving trails of white-flowered ranunculus, nods his 

 head with every stroke, while his mate croaks from 

 cover of the flags and water-docks close by. Presently, 

 as we watch, she comes into view with a fleet of downy 

 young in her wake. The Sand Martins are swarming 

 like bees round their holes where the brook has worn 

 for itself a steep, sandy escarpment. A mass of soaking 

 water- weeds floats near the reedy margin of the pond. 

 Remove the uppermost layer, laid loosely on when 

 the owner left, and we find the eggs of the Dabchick 

 or Little Grebe, originally white, but now deeply 

 discoloured. Reed Warblers chatter and scold, and 

 one may find, neatly suspended between the reed- 

 stems, their deep purse-shaped nests. Far more 

 difficult of discovery is the nest of the Grasshopper 

 Warbler, deeply hidden amongst dense herbage, and 



