104 
NATURE NOTES. 
other small birds are found destroj^ed. Spring fern fires, too, 
destroy numbers of pheasants’ nests, especially along the edges 
of the small wooded ravines, where the birds prefer to build. 
But the grass fires — much more difficult to obtain — are destruc- 
tive too. Only in extra dry seasons will fires run over the hills. 
Stocking, to some extent, prevents the grass running at once to 
seed. The dews are often heavier ; the shade of scrub keeps 
the ground moist. Thunder-showers, too, are more frequent on 
the hills. When, however, the hill grass will carry a fire, fern 
birds, lizards, and mice are killed in great numbers ; and for 
days after the heavy flapping harriers may be seen searching 
carefully the blackened saddles and slopes for little creatures 
scorched by the flames. Pigs and sheep, too, are sometimes 
burnt — not often, however, for pigs rush down into the deep 
brooks, and sheep take refuge on the close-cropped hill tops. 
By the time, however, that the hills can be successfully fired, 
there is a cry for rain that increases as, night after night, the 
sard sun sets — a burning blood-red ball, low on the dun horizon. 
The tanks are empty ; the roads inches deep in pounded, 
powdered dust. The scorched hills are black, and the last 
trampled swamp grasses brittle and brown. The open water- 
courses are perfectly dry ; the forest brooks chains of isolated 
pools, full of scum and rotting forest leaves ; and the hardiest 
stock begin to fall away. Then at last, perhaps, after ten or 
twelve weeks of drought, up comes a slow, almost windless sou’- 
wester, trailing mist wreaths over the hills ; then wrapping them 
low and lower in a blanket of fog. This presently increases to a 
drizzle, that drums delightfully in the empty tanks, and trickles 
less delightfully through the shrunken shingles of the roof. The 
wind increases, and the rain descends more and more heavily, 
until at last a furious gale is blowing, and torrents pouring 
down. The ground is soaked once more, the drought is broken, 
and almost before the water has run off, tender green needles 
and sharp little blades are piercing the softened crust of the 
warm, wet earth. 
H. Guthrie-Smith. 
Rooks at Lyme Regis. — While staying at Lyme Regis lately, we were 
much struck by the tameness of the rooks. Two of the lodging-house keepers on 
the sea- walk throw out scraps of bread, &c., for them every morning throughout 
the year, and they come down to within six or eight yards of the houses and 
fearlessly enjoy the feast. They seem to be on excellent terms with the sea-gulls 
also, joining their foraging parties, and picking up many an “ unconsidered trifle ” 
close to the in-coming tide, but the rooks do not like getting their feet wet, and 
when the little wavelets run up near their toes they retreat with two or three 
comical hops, like frightened children. Lyme Regis seems to be an excellent 
l)lace for birds of various kinds, and many a happy hour I spent with my glasses, 
watching them in the “ Pinny Cliffs,” a mile from the town, where the trees and 
bushes which cover hundreds of acres forma real paradise for them. Blackcaps 
abound there — from nearly every bush one could hear their lovely song. Wood- 
peckers, also, and many other interesting birds aYe to be found in plenty. 
Horsell Vicarage, IVoiing. Rose Turle. 
