Bird Life in the 
Stripe.” 
(186) THE BIRD WORLD. 
ing, nor had I heard their love call, but 
still there the bird was sitting on the root 
of one of the growing trees, with its 
feathers pressed against the trunk staring 
at me with its great big eyes, and so 
tame and fearless, that I had to make a 
movement with my hand as if I would 
stroke the feathers of its back before I 
could flush it from the nest, leaving un¬ 
covered five beautiful speckled eggs. 
The nest was a hole scraped close to 
the bole of the tree and lined with last 
season’s withered grass. This was my 
first and last Woodcock nest. I never 
discovered another. 
Great Changes Have Come. 
But now great changes has come over 
the fortunes of the “ Stripe.” One year 
in the back end all the old timber was 
cut down and the wood cleaned out; 
and in the following spring it was re¬ 
planted with young larch, Scotch firs, 
and spruce firs, the boundary fences 
being repaired to keep the cattle from 
breaking through and interfering with 
the growth of the young timber. The 
“ Stripe ” had cast off the feebleness of 
old age, and now appeared arrayed in 
the vigour and freshness of youth. In 
the succeeding years when the trees were 
knee high, many kinds of birds appeared 
and made their home there that I had 
never observed before. That bird of 
the open country, the Skylark, came and 
nested for one summer only. It built 
its nest in a stony bit of ground where 
the grass grew short; and deposited 
three dark-coloured eggs therein. As 
the years rolled on that sweet songster 
often hung and sung on outstretched 
wings over the “ Stripe,” but to my 
knowledge never nested there any more. 
The Whine hats. 
The Whinchats also appeared, and 
reared their brood amidst the blue 
hyacinths, that in the early summer filled 
the wood with a blue haze of bloom. 
Perched on his lookout post, the very 
point of some little tree, his gaudy 
plumage shown conspicuously in the 
bird life of the wood, the cock sung his 
quaint little song, varying the perform¬ 
ance by suddenly dashing down amongst 
the tangled growth, after some un¬ 
fortunate insect. Then back again to 
another point of vantage he proved him¬ 
self a worthy sentinel, the first to spy 
and raise his voice in alarm at anything 
that was likely to disturb the peace of 
the bird community. He would follow 
you nearly all over the wood uttering his 
“ chit chat,” his mate now joining her 
protests to his, as she slipped very 
quietly off her nest at his warning, till 
they thought the danger had passed 
away, then they would flit back to their 
blue eggs with the dark-brown speckles. 
Blue, but not of so delicate a tint as the 
blue of the hedge Sparrow’s egg that lay 
in the matted nest of moss and hair in 
a spruce tree in the middle of the 
“ Stripe.” Loving little birds that de¬ 
lighted in one another’s company, 
shuffling their wings as they played the 
game of hide and seek in and out amidst 
the branches of the different trees that 
made their little world. What a sweet 
singer the Hedge Sparrow is? Unlike 
the summer visitors that are always in 
motion, he would rather sit quietly on 
a favourite perch and trill forth his few 
liquid notes. Even throughout the 
autumn, and in the winter when the sun 
condescends to brighten up the leafless 
pathways of the wood, he does his best 
to help the pert little Wren to enliven 
the cheerless days in a musical duet. 
Sweet and Winsome. 
What a sweet singer the wee brown 
Wren is. Taking the size of the bird 
into consideration, it has the loudest 
song of all our native birds, and sings 
in no half-hearted manner, its whole 
body quivering with excitement, as it 
pours forth its roundelay. Often, and at 
all times of the season, have I observed 
this small bird here, but only once did 
I find its nest, which was built about 
two feet up in the small branches of a 
spruce tree pressed against the trunk; 
moss and withered brackens composed 
the dome, with a small round hole left 
for the birds to enter by, with a lining of 
soft feathers. Young birds were in the 
nest when I discovered it. I never came 
across another. I think they preferred 
to nest under the sloping and broken 
banks of the riverside. 
c 
