s on record is that scored by St.
John, who set some of the eggs under a tame pigeon and secured one
survivor that appears to have grown quite tame, but was, unfortunately,
eaten by a hawk. At any rate, it did its kind good service by enlisting
on their side the pen of the most ardent apologist they have ever had.
Indeed, St. John did not hesitate to rate the farmers soundly for
persecuting the bird in wilful ignorance of its unpaid services in
clearing their ground of noxious weeds. Yet, however true his eloquent
plea may have been in respect of his native Lothian, there would be some
difficulty in persuading South Country agriculturists of the
woodpigeon's hidden virtues. To those, however, who do not sow that they
may reap, the subject of these remarks has irresistible charm. There is
doubtless monotony in its cooing, yet, heard in a still plantation of
firs, with no other sound than perhaps the distant call of a shepherd or
barking of a farm dog, it is a music singularly in harmony with the
peaceful scene. The arrowy flight of these birds when they come in from
the fields at sundown and fall like rushing waters on the tree-tops is
an even more memorable sound. To the sportsman, above all, the
woodpigeon shows itself a splendid bird of freedom, more cunning than
any hand-reared game bird, swifter on the wing than any other purely
wild bird, a welcome addition to the bag because it is hard to shoot in
the open, and because in life it was a sore trial to a class already
harassed with their share of this life's troubles.

APRIL

BIRDS IN THE HIGH HALL GARDEN

BIRDS IN THE HIGH HALL GARDEN

All March the rooks were busy in the swaying elms, but it is these
softer evenings of April, when the first young leaves are beginning to
frame the finished nests, and the boisterous winds of last month no
longer drown the babble of the tree-top parliament at the still hour
when farm labourers are homing from the fields, that the rooks
peculiarly strike their own note in the country scene. There is no good
reason to confuse these curious and interesting fowl with any other of
the crow family. Collectively they may be recognised by their love of
fellowship, for none are more sociable than they. Individually the rook
is stamped unmistakably by the bald patch on the face, where the
feathers have come away round the base of the beak. The most generally
accepted explanation of this disfigurement is the rook's habit of
th