SELBORX/ANA. 
97 
And now the last bough is down, the crash of falling timber 
has ceased, with the grinding sweep of the saw and the blow of 
the hatchet. The last load of “ big sticks ” has creaked out into 
the road and away to the timber yard ; the smaller branches and 
twigs on which the buds are already bursting have been gathered 
up for faggots. The contractor’s work is done and his men have 
gone on to the next “job.” Nervous people can breathe in 
peace, their fears of a “ bolt from the blue ” removed. But 
though the pollarded trunks will shoot out twigs and small 
branches and thus hide their bare wounds from view, and though 
the small songsters of the grove will find ample shelter left for 
them, the rooks have gone for ever. No more will they and 
their nests show black in the branches in early March — the 
branches are gone ; we shall not hear the fluttering of their 
wings in leafy May and June, and throughout the year there will 
be a note lacking in the morning chorus which greets the passer- 
by, and a void in the hearts of many a one who loved the old 
rookery and its denizens — a void to be filled up by no prudential 
considerations. 
.'\rthur O. Cooke. 
SELBORNIANA. 
The Torquay Grolf Links. — In former numbers of Nature Notes, 
you have raised your voice against the destruction of all the wide elements of 
beauty in our commons and open spaces by golf players for their own con- 
venience ; that destruction still continues in many of the most lovely pieces 
of open country that are still free to all for enjoyment, and not merely the 
privilege of a few. Of late years the extensive downs reaching from Babbicombe 
Glen to the cliffs above Anstey’s Cove have been utilized by golf players, and 
the change is grievous to all lovers of nature ; the fine short turf is hacked 
about, cut up and injured by unskilful players, its fresh beauty destroyed 
by being everywhere trampled over, and the rare wild flowers, wild thyme, 
vernal squill, &c. , that used to come up in the mossy turf, are killed. In 
order not to lose the balls so often, the beautiful clumps of wild gorse that 
added so much variety are burnt down, and only blackened ruins remain 
I over hundreds of square yards. Then inequalities of the ground are removed, 
I and smooth plac^ rolled to make a convenient finish. Thus by degrees the 
' delightful look oi wild nature so dear to artists and people of taste is utterly 
taken away from these downs, the choicest open space that beautiful Torquay 
I has. Before leaving Torquay, I should like to say a word about the cruel 
lopping of the branches, and the cutting off the tops of the trees that line 
' • the road from Torquay to Babbicombe, while some of the householders at 
Babbicombe, notably near All Saints’ Church, have reduced their trees to 
mere stumps— utterly regardless of the beauty that. God intended all trees 
I to have. To return to golf spoliation, a friend writes to me from Crow- 
borough, Sussex : — “ The Common here is to me completely spoilt by the 
I golf links. The heather is kept close, so that we get no purple tints over it, 
and the turf is cut up in places to make level squares, and small ditches 
are dug to drain the water off, so I scarcely ever go there now, being 
I disgusted with the desolation.” 
A Lover of Nature. 
I 
