A GREAT PLUNDERER OF FLOWERS. 117 
without any variation of tune, is very pleasing in the 
general concert, as most vernal notes, if not harsh and 
| wearisome from monotony, are. These birds make sad 
havoc with some of our spring flowers ; and the poly- 
| anthus, in March, in our sheltered borders, is very 
| commonly stripped of all its blossoms by these little 
plunderers, I suppose to obtain the immature seeds at 
the base of their tubes. They will deflorate too the 
spikes or whorls of the little red archangel (lamium 
purpureum) ; and we see them feeding in the waste 
places where this plant is found in the spring, their little 
mouths being filled with the green seeds of this dead 
nettle. At this period too they are sad plunderers in 
our kitchen gardens, and most dexterously draw up our 
young turnips and radishes, as soon as they appear upon 
the surface of the soil ; but after this all depredation 
ceases, the rest of their days being past in sportive in- 
nocence. I have observed these birds, in very hot sea- 
sons, to wet their eggs, by discharging moisture from 
their bills upon them, or at least perform an operation 
that appeared to be so. 
We still continue here that very ancient custom of 
giving parish rewards for the destruction of various 
creatures included in the denomination of vermin. In 
former times it may have been found necessary to keep 
under or reduce the numbers of many predaceous ani- 
mals, which in a thickly wooded country, with an in- 
ferior population, might have been productive of injury ; 
and we even find parliamentary statutes enacted for this 
purpose : but now, however, our losses by such means 
have become a very petty grievance ; our gamekeepers? 
do their part in removing pests of this nature, and the 
plow and the ax leave little harbor for the few that es- 
cape ; and thus we war on the smaller races of creation, 
and call them vermin. An item passed in one of our 
late church-wardens’ accounts was, “ for seventeen 
dozen of tom-tits’ heads ! ” In what evil hour, and for 
what crime, this poor little bird (parus casruleus) could 
have incurred the anathema of a parish, it is difficult to 
conjecture. I know hardly any small animal that lives 
a more precarious life than the little blue tom-tit. In- 
