BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 35 



when an old bird, who looked larger and blacker 

 and greyer-faced than the others, and might have 

 been the father and leader of them all, got up on 

 a low post, and with wide-open beak poured forth 

 a long series of most impressive caws. One always 

 wonders at the meaning of such displays. Is the 

 old bird addressing the others in the rook language 

 on some matter of great moment ; or is he only 

 expressing some feeling in the only language he has 

 — those long, hoarse, uninflected sounds ; and if so, 

 what feeling S' Probably a very common one. The 

 rooks appeared happy and prosperous, feeding in 

 the meadow grass in that June weather, with the 

 hot sun shining on their glossy coats. Their days 

 of want were long past and forgotten ; the anxious 

 breeding period was over ; the tempest in the tall 

 trees ; the annual slaughter of the young birds, — 

 all past and forgotten. The old rook was simply 

 expressing the old truth that life was worth living. 



These rooks were usually accompanied by two 

 or three or more crows — a bird of so ill-repute that 

 the most out-and-out enthusiast for protection must 

 find it hard to say a word in its favour. At any rate 

 the rooks must think, if they think at all, that this 

 frequent visitor and attendant of theirs is more 

 kin than kind. I have related in a former work that 

 I once saw a peregrine strike down and kill an owl — 

 a sight that made me gasp with astonishment. But 



