Rock Thrushes 6i 



splendid dignity, warmly clothed in firs and under- 

 shrub. Behind you the trees are there no longer ; but 

 instead, the upland meadows decked with flowers 

 stretch away to the top, here and there scattered with 

 great rocks, as if thrown by some giant hand in boyish 

 play. It is July, the air fresh and life-giving, the white 

 clouds sailing high against an azure sky. Some little 

 brown pipits are flitting close at hand, and some wheat- 

 ears are bobbing about on some stones not far off, but 

 higher up amongst those scattered boulders are some 

 larger birds, at least a dozen and a half, which are 

 running over the stones, chasing each other, and 

 singing. 



It is a colony of rock thrushes, for I can certainly 

 see three males in adult plumage as well as females ; 

 whilst here, there, and apparently everywhere in that 

 particular spot are the young broods, fully fledged. 

 The nesting season is pretty well over, and the old 

 birds do not mind showing themselves ; indeed, as I 

 walk slowly up the grassy slopes, trying to seem as if I 

 didn't know that there was such a bird as a rock thrush, 

 they allow me to come quite close, and one fine old 

 male bird is puffing himself out with his head feathers 

 compressed, tilting at another, as he runs with halting 

 steps upon a flat stone of gigantic proportions. 



My wife, who is with me, is enchanted at the sight. 

 When one knows any particular bird or animal person- 

 ally and intimately, one is always much more inter- 

 ested in the particular species to which it belongs ; 

 and now, after several years of close friendship with my 

 tame rock thrush, she is keenly delighted at seeing 



