ts; and though the call is monotonous, yet
it is so cheerful and pleasing that one cannot choose but stay and
listen.

Suddenly, two that have been vigorously calling start forward together
and meet in mid-air. They buffet each other with their wings; their
little beaks fiercely strike; their necks are extended; they manoeuvre
round each other, trying for an advantage. They descend, heedless in the
rage of their tiny hearts, within a few yards of the watcher, and then
in alarm separate. But one flies to the oak branch and defiantly calls
immediately.

Over the meadows comes the distant note of the cuckoo. When he first
calls his voice is short and somewhat rough, but in a few days it gains
power. Then the second syllable has a mellow ring: and as he cries from
the tree, the note, swiftly repeated and echoed by the wood, dwells on
the ear something like the 'hum' or vibration of a beautiful bell.

As the hedges become green the ivy leaves turn brown at the edge and
fall; the wild ivy is often curiously variegated. At the foot of the
tree up which it climbs the leaves are five-angled, higher up they lose
the angles and become rounded, though growing on the same plant.
Sometimes they have a grey tint, especially those that trail along the
bank; sometimes the leaves are a reddish brown with pale green ribs.

By the brook now the meadow has become of a rich bright green, the
stream has sunk and is clear, and the sunlight dances on the ripples.
The grasses at the edge--the turf--curl over and begin to grow down the
steep side that a little while since was washed by the current. Where
there is a ledge of mud and sand the yellow wagtail runs; he stands on a
stone and jerks his tail.

The ploughed field that comes down almost to the brook--a mere strip of
meadow between--is green too with rising wheat, high enough now to hide
the partridges. Before it got so tall it was pleasant to watch the pair
that frequent it; they were so confident that they did not even trouble
to cower. At any other time of year they would have run, or flown; but
then, though scarcely forty yards away and perfectly visible, they
simply ceased feeding but showed no further alarm.

Upon the plough birds in general should look as their best friend, for
it provides them with the staff of life as much as it does man. The
earth turned up under the share yields them grubs and insects and worms:
the seed is sown and the clods harrowed, and they take a secon