BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 21 



when I got up to look out of the window between 

 four and five o'clock, I heard from some quarter of 

 the village that curious subdued but far-reaching 

 scolding note he is accustomed to utter when his 

 suspicions have been aroused. That was the jay's 

 custom, to come from the woods before even the 

 earliest risers were up, and forage in the village. 

 By and by I discovered that, by lying motionless 

 for an hour or so on the dry moss in the wood, he 

 would at length grow so bold as to allow himself to 

 be seen, but high up among the topmost branches. 

 Then, by means of my binocular, I had the wild 

 thing on my thumb, so to speak, exhibiting himself 

 to me, inquisitive, perplexed, suspicious, enraged 

 by turns, as he flirted wings and tail, lifted and 

 lowered his crest, glancing down with bright, wild 

 eyes. What a beautiful hypocrisy and delightful 

 power this is which enables us, sitting or lying 

 motionless, feigning sleep perhaps, thus to fool 

 this wild, elusive creature, and bring all his cunning 

 to naught! He is so much smaller and keener- 

 sighted, able to fly, to perch far up above me, to 

 shift his position every minute or two, masking his 

 small figure with this or that tuft of leaves, while 

 still keeping his eyes on me — ^in spite of it all, to 

 have him so close, and, without moving or taking 

 any trouble, to see him so much better than he can 

 see me ! But this is a legitimate trickery of science. 



