Threshing Time
They were threshing on the holding. Three men worked round the mill. The noise echoed up the valley, and chaff and straw blew in the wind, finding its way into hedges, strewing the road and filling muddy ruts where the tractor had lately passed. I watched for a while, and noticed that a great flock of sparrows and finches had gathered to feed on the debris. They grew bolder and bolder, picking up seeds right to the side of the mill. When one of the workmen passed, they shot up, like a shower of leaves themselves. As soon as it was safe they were back. A cat tried to stalk them, but they were too wary for hint. At length he gave up, and moved to the diminishing rick where he waited hopefully for a mouse. The- last of the rick went through the mill without a mouse being seen. The b:rds had enough food for several days.
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