A Feast of Berries While I was resting in the
wood, looking out at the clump of hawthorns growing on the hillside, I began to take an interest in a group of magpies that were fluttering round the trees and apparently feeding on the ber- ries. They were having a grand time, swaying and bobbing in the tips Of the branches and crowding each other until one or another was dislodged and had to fly up and round to find a new place in which to settle. In a little while their behaviour was noticed by a passing pigeon and, after this had dropped down and settled to Observe before feeding, it was joined by another and another until the few trees were full of birds of both kinds. It was surprising how quickly they lost their alertness, for when I walked out of the wood I was able to cross ground well in sight from the thorns without being noticed. The larger the gathering of birds the more secure they seemed tb feel. As soon as I came to the first of the hawthorns, panic put the whole lot into the air. Magpies sped in all directions like frightened starlings, pigeons twisted back overhead and raced away, and I was left to ponder why, with so much wild fruit about and the stubble to be gleaned, they still find it necessary to take salad in the garden.
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