Rooks are very wary and cunning birds, and usually difficult to photograph. If they see anything to arouse their suspicions, such as the lens of a well-hidden camera, they walk up very cautiously, cram their beaks to capacity with food, and then fly away to some quiet corner of the garden where they half empty their bills and then polish off their plunder in safety. I find that the majority of people have great difficulty in distinguishing the Rook. Every black bird of any size is called a crow and left at that. The adult Rook may always be easily identified by the feather-denuded white patch round the base of the bill. In the young birds, however, until a year old, the nostrils are clothed with bristles. The feathers of the flanks hang down, giving the bird a somewhat ragged appearance as it walks with a slightly rolling gait in search of its widely varied diet.

The Rook is on the whole beneficial to agriculture, and where their numbers have been reduced this work has been found to suffer. They devour large numbers of insect pests such as wire-worms, leather-jackets, and slugs, for which they either diligently dig, or else follow the plough, as opportunity offers. How they manage to detect the presence of grubs in the ground, whether with the aid of some special sense or merely by guesswork, has not been ascertained. Rooks do a certain amount of damage to vegetable produce, as they will feed on newly sown grain, potatoes, and ripe corn. They have visited our garden in the early spring and rooted up newly planted shallots.

In February the birds start the reconstruction of their old nests, which are added to until they become big masses of sticks about two feet in diameter, strengthened by earth and small sods, and lined with hair, grass, and other soft material. During building operations one of the pair usually keeps guard whilst the other is hunting for material, as much pilfering goes on. The eggs, three to six in number, are laid in March, and towards the end of that month, or the beginning of April, the young are hatched. At this period the Rooks have a very anxious time, especially if the ground is frostbound, as they suffer severely from dearth of food for themselves and their offspring. The great majority of early nests of such birds as Thrushes and Blackbirds are, in my opinion, robbed by Rooks and Jackdaws.

[...400 words, extracts from pp5-7]

Not far away from the place where the Peewits were nesting, there is a large field in which several very ancient beech and Spanish chestnut trees grow. Owing to their age, they contain many holes, nooks, and crannies, which are taken full advantage of by Owls and Jackdaws. The latter birds not only nest in the holes, as is their usual custom, but those unable to find inside accommodation construct open-topped nests among the branches. One day I clambered up into a beech and took a peep into a hole formed by a branch which had broken off at a height of about twelve feet from the ground. To my surprise, I saw that Mrs. Jackdaw had so delayed her departure, that in spite of the warning provided by my clumsy clambering, I had actually trapped her on the nest. As can be imagined, she showed every appearance of alarm in her bluish-grey eyes, and edged to the far end of her retreat. Just as I was about to insert my hand, she disappeared into the side of the tunnel which connected with another hole in a different part of the trunk, and presently, to my great surprise, flew away from the other side of the tree. I found that the nest, which was made of a collection of sticks, lined with wool, grass, and hair, contained five eggs. By way of decorations, there were several torn-up pieces of old newspapers and a number of fluted papers such as are used to contain small cakes, which had evidently been dropped by picnickers.

When the young ones in this particular nest had been hatched, I arrived on the scene with my apparatus, hoping to obtain a few pictures of the old birds taking in food to their offspring. I soon discovered, however, that this was no easy task, because, the nesting-hole being some twelve feet from the ground, it was necessary to raise the camera on stilts by lashing three strong poles to the tripod in order to secure the requisite elevation. Unfortunately, it had the effect of making the hiding-cloth much too short. When this and other defects in the camouflage had been remedied, I stood up in the structure and waited for a long time for the return of the parents, but had no luck that day. On the morrow I tried again, and during the afternoon obtained several snapshots. Owing to the fact that the enormous tree spread its branches and leaves in a canopy over quite a large area, I at once recognised that nothing but a fairly long exposure would be adequate. As the westering sun neared the horizon, rays of light penetrated the lower branches and increased my chances of success. The last exposure, made at a speed of one-tenth of a second at 7 p.m., turned out to be the best, and is here reproduced. I felt very proud that night on developing the plate, as the difficulties of the situation and lighting were exceptional.

Facing p39. THE JACKDAW LOOKS DOUBTFUL

A friend of mine, who is interested in birds was hunting for Magpies' nests where they are as a rule fairly common. During his search he managed to cover a large area of country, and succeeded in finding dozens of nests, but in nearly every case discovered they contained dead young ones. The owners had no doubt been either shot or poisoned by the gamekeepers and farmers in the district, with the result that their young ones starved. At last, my friend came upon a nest containing chicks nearly ready to fledge, took two of the family home, and later on gave one of them to me. I christened him Grip, and turned him loose in the orchard, where he spent most of his time teasing the fowls. His favourite trick was to poke his head through the wire fence dividing the kitchen garden from the fowl run and seize an old hen by the tail. By the time the startled bird had turned to retaliate, Grip had withdrawn his head to safety, and was no doubt chuckling heartily over the incident. Whenever a big cock chicken towered over him in a threatening attitude, Grip would open his great red gape, spread his wings, and Chanticleer would be so disconcerted at the appearance of such an unusual aspirant to farmyard honours that he would walk away without assaulting the small and impudent rival. Occasionally, however, the hens would make a concerted rush at him, and Grip would then very prudently take refuge in a near-by fruit tree, and chatter defiance at his baffled pursuers. The appearance of mock gravity he would assume whilst sitting on the edge of a feeding-trough pretending to be a chicken was most amusing. During his short stay among the poultry, Grip was in very truth the Charlie Chaplin of the farmyard. He had all the fondness of his species for obtaining and hiding bright objects, and if a sixpence were given him it would be stowed away with a great display of covetousness and caution. He would also endeavour to remove one's watch with the effrontery of a pickpocket, lacking, however, that mortal's unobtrusive lightness of touch.

In years gone by the Magpie was a much more numerous species than it is to-day, and old writers speak of the bird as haunting the vicinity of human dwellings. Owing, however, to its objectionable habit of carrying off young poultry and sucking eggs, its presence in the neighbourhood of villages and farms is nowadays severely discouraged. In many districts, especially where game is strictly preserved, the Magpie is almost completely banished, and in most other places generations of persistent persecution have considerably reduced its numbers.

Anyone who has the good fortune to see one of these birds at close quarters in its wild state is at once impressed by the real beauty of the plumage. At a distance the Magpie appears black and white, but a closer view discloses that on the wing there is a patch of metallic blue, which changes to a greenish hue at certain angles. The tail, which is often ten inches long, is black, with a mixture of iridescent green and purple.

The appearance of the Magpie is very distinctive, and cannot be mistaken for that of any other bird. Its nest, a feat of avian architecture, is also unusual. It is made of strong sticks, cemented with mud or clay, and spherical in shape, with a domed roof. There is an entrance-hole at one side, from which the sitting bird keeps a good look-out whilst brooding. The inside is lined with roots and other soft material, whilst the sticks forming the roof are usually of thorn, the spikes of which form additional discouragement to any intruder. The birds, if spared, return to the same locality year after year, and in April deposit their brown-spotted greenish eggs.

There is an old rhyme about the Magpie which runs as follows:

One for sorrow, two for mirth, Three for a wedding, four for a birth.

[...670 words, extracts from pp46-49]

The nest of the Yellow Bunting is usually a very untidy structure of coarse dead grass roots, and moss, with a lining of horsehair, generally placed close to, or actually on the ground. Because of the peculiar streak-like markings on the eggs, the bird is often known in many parts of the country as the Writing or Scribbling Lark. There is an old superstition that Satan supplies the bird with some of his blood in order to mark the eggs in this way.

[...80 words, extracts from pp72]