142 BIRD LIFE THROUGHOUT THE YEAR 



the noctule or great -bat by its bold flight, broken 

 by sudden downward swoops. 



The Corncrake becomes silent towards the end of the 

 month, but the Nightjar still reels from the heath 

 where it hunts the white moths above the dewy fern. 

 In wood and copse the pageant of summer passes in 

 stately progress, garlanded with wild flowers, while 

 butterflies, such as the large and gaily-painted frit- 

 illaries, dash proudly by or sun themselves upon the 

 heads of thistle and scabious. In the plantation the 

 cooing of Wood Pigeons is still heard, though the voice 

 of the Turtle has ceased. If a change passes over the 

 day, and from some dark cloud comes a clap of thunder, 

 the cock Pheasants crow in answer to it. In the 

 same way the noise of blasting or of cannon will always 

 draw from them a defiant challenge. The Swifts seem 

 to revel in thundery weather; their screaming is never 

 more shrill and piercing than in the height of a storm. 

 And after the rain passes and the sun comes out, who 

 has not wondered at the swarm of tiny frogs upon the 

 steaming road, limbs just developed and tail — last 

 badge of tadpoledom — but newly absorbed ? 



The coveys of young Partridges are on the wing. 

 The Chaffinches flocking upon the first bare stubbles, 

 and the Starlings racing over the meadow, or rising 

 in a cloud to wheel and manoeuvre as one bird, herald 

 the larger assemblages of autumn. In some quiet 

 inlet of the lake amongst pond-weed and sedges, hide 



