FIELD NOTES. 287 



looked, as they held it in the beak, like an acorn or oak-apple. 

 This they placed on the ground, and, without holding it with the 

 feet, hammered at it powerfully with the beak. To me it seemed 

 that at each blow the beak was thrust into the earth, that there 

 was spade as well as pickaxe action — at least with one bird that 

 I watched, as well as I could, through the glasses. I could not 

 make out that this Rook broke up and ate the object, whatever it 

 was, and as he shortly walked away without it, it struck me that 

 he might have buried it, as a Squirrel does his store. A second 

 Rook, however, broke and ate, as well as I could see, a portion 

 of what he had, and a day or two before I had seen another one, 

 at the same place, do the same. A third, having pickaxed the 

 ground a little, had all at once something — I think, an acorn — in 

 his bill, which he swallowed whole. Walking to the spot, I found 

 the rind of two acorns, and, as both of these could not have be- 

 longed to the one he swallowed, it is probable that neither did. 

 Now, as the Rook swallowed the acorn whole, the blows with the 

 beak were not given to break it, one would think. It looks as if 

 it had dug up and swallowed a previously buried one. Twenty- 

 five paces away there was an oak-tree, and under it I found 

 quantities of acorns with pieces hacked out of them, and having 

 the appearance of having lain some time after they had been thus 

 treated. Probably the Rooks, having found an abundance, had 

 eaten daintily. I think they bury acorns, but could not see to be 

 sure of it. 



December 9th. — Leave home at 7.15 a.m. 



7.20. — First twitter of a small bird. 



7.35. — First Rook seen flying, laboriously and alone. There 

 is twittering of small birds in the fir-trees and copses, but none 

 about yet. 



7.40. — Rooks flying, and a Blackbird goes up from the road, 

 with its expostulation-note. Small birds now begin to fly from 

 tree to tree, along a row of firs — Chaffinches, Greenfinches, Tits, 

 &c. Wretched poor notings these for a naturalist, or any man, 

 to make, but I do not know what he can find better in a country 

 like this at this time of year, and of the morning. England is a 

 wretched place except for the very rich and the very patriotic. 



7.47. — Rooks now flying very high, in opposite direction to 

 West Stow, where they roost. A Blackbird — male, I think — 



