THE ANIMAL SENSE OF BE A UTY 
I0 3 
least keen-witted of the birds. The kite, for instance, 
has a great liking for pretty things, or what it con- 
siders such. In two of the rare instances in which 
the kite’s nest has been recently found in this country, 
the cock-bird had carried home a long, trailing spray 
of woodbine in flower, and left it by the side of its 
mate. When kites were common in England, their 
habit of carrying off to their nests any strange objects 
which took their fancy was well known. “ The white 
sheet bleaching on the hedge ” has as great attractions 
for them as it had for Autolycus. Shakespeare makes 
the pedlar refer to this habit. “ My traffic is sheets,” 
he says ; “ when the kite builds, look to lesser linen.” 
But the bird, though as much a “ snapper-up of un- 
considered trifles” as Autolycus himself, is only a 
fine-art and bric-d-brac collector in its way, and is 
perhaps not more unscrupulous in annexing the 
specimens that take its fancy. In a kite’s nest found 
not long ago in this country, the “ collection ” was 
enriched by pieces of newspaper and leaves of “ Brad- 
shaw’s Railway Guide ! ” — and on the few estates in 
England where these birds are still protected, the 
keepers are said to be quite aware of their mania 
for collecting linen when laid out to dry, and carry- 
ing off socks and bright cotton handkerchiefs to 
the nest. 
The sense of beauty naturally appears, in the rudest 
and most elementary form, in such uncouth robbers 
as the kites. In the far cleverer crows, ravens, mag- 
pies, and jays, it is a marked and hereditary passion. 
