THE FEATHERED RACE. 
109 
During the course of a life passed much in the country, 
and perambulating the woods, the hedges, and the fields, 
I have contracted almost insensibly an acquaintance 
with the creatures that frequent them. Some have en- 
gaged my attention by their actions and manners; 
others have interested me by their innocqncy, and the 
harmlessness of their lives ; and, perhaps, there is some 
little partial bearing toward others from long associa- 
tion, or from unknown, undefined causes. I tolerate, 
in despite of all their noise, and all their litter, a colony 
of rooks, which have taken a liking to some tall elms 
near my dwelling. Not being ancient denizens there, 
they can claim no hereditary rights ; but their con- 
trivances, their regularity, and even their squabbles, 
are amusing; and, perhaps, there is mingled with this 
some little compassion for these dark, half-domesticated 
families of the grove, driven by the ax from an old 
abode, which may influence my forbearance. 
The hedge sparrow, or shufflewing, (motacilla modu- 
laris), is a prime favorite. Not influenced by season or 
caprice to desert us, it lives in our homesteads and our 
orchards through all the year, our most domestic bird. 
In the earliest spring it intimates to us by a low and 
plaintive chirp, and that peculiar shake of the wing, 
which at all times marks this bird, but then is particularly 
observable, the approach of the breeding season ; for 
it appears always to live in pairs, feeding and moving 
in company with each other. It is nearly the first bird 
that forms a nest ; and this being placed in an almost 
leafless hedge, with little art displayed in its conceal- 
ment, generally becomes the booty of every prying boy ; 
and the blue eggs of the hedge-sparrow are always 
found in such numbers on his string, that it is sur- 
prising how any of the race are remaining, especially 
when we consider the many casualties to which the old 
birds are obnoxious from their tameness, and the young 
that are hatched, from their situation. The plumage of 
this motacilla is remarkably sober and grave, and all its 
actions are quiet and comformable to its appearance. 
Its song is short, sweet, and gentle. Sometimes it is 
prolonged; but generally the bird perches on the sum- 
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