62 Wild Life in a Southern County 



beating the air in a confined space — it is the jackdaws in 

 the belfry ; just as the starlings and swallows in the huge 

 old-fashioned chimneys make a similar murmuring noise 

 before they settle. Passing a slit or two — the only means 

 of marking the height which has been reached — and the 

 dull tick of the old clock becomes audible : slow and 

 accompanied with a peculiar grating vibration, as if the 

 frame of the antique works had grown tremulous with age. 

 The dial-plate outside is square, placed at an angle to the 

 perpendicular lines of the tower : the gilding of the hour- 

 marks has long since tarnished and worn away before the 

 storms, and they are now barely distinguishable ; and it is 

 difficult to tell the precise time by the solitary pointer, 

 there being no minute-hand. 



Past another slit, and the narrow stone steps — you 

 must take care to keep close to the outer wall where they 

 are widest, for they narrow to the central pillar — are 

 scooped out by the passage of feet during the centuries ; 

 some, too, are broken, and others are slippery with some- 

 thing that rolls and gives under the foot. It is a number of 

 little sticks and twigs which have fallen down from the jack- 

 daws' nests above : higher up the steps are literally covered 

 with them, so that you have to kick them aside before you 

 can conveniently ascend. These sticks are nearly all of 

 the same size, brown and black from age and the loss of 

 the sap, the bark remaining on. It is surprising how the 

 birds contrive to find so many suitable to their purpose, 

 searching about under the trees; for they do not break 

 them off, but take those that have fallen. 



The best place for finding these sticks — and those the 

 rooks use — is where a tree has been felled or a thick hedge 

 cut some months before. In cutting up the smaller 

 branches into faggots the men necessarily frequently step 



