WAGTAIL'S VISIT
The grey wagtail is hardly a garden bird, belonging as it does to the stream and the wet stones; but we enjoy an almost daily visit from one that picks over the asphalt of the yard, a dainty bird, jerky, nervous and quick. There are times when he perches on the wall to inspect the terrain before he ventures, and then the breeze sometimes ruffles his feathers and turns him about like a moored boat, until he shows that delicate daffodil yellow that always makes me wonder why he is called a grey wagtail at all. No other bird is here when the wagtail comes. He is an individualist and likes the place to himself, flitting about to pick whatever it is he seeks, and then flash- ing away with his waterside cry. We know where he has gone, of course, across the road, over the laurels and shrubs and down to the water again, the proper place for a wagtail, grey, yellow or pied.
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