COUNTRY LIFE
AT week-ends when we sometimes go to the cottage, which is on the side of a hill covered by fir-trees, we never see a sparrow. Pigeons perch within a few feet of the roof; woodpeckers inspect the bark of the trees; and jackdaws are continually among the trees and on the limestone cliffs above. It is delightful to see so many birds close to the door, but, with an abundance of blue tits, bearded tits, great tits as well as finches, one still misses the house-sparrow. Just now the house-sparrows, like the linnets, are flocking, feeding in stackyards and places where food is to be had. We did not go to the cottage at the week-end, but I took a stroll through part of an estate, along a path between great laurel bushes, where I disturbed several hundred small birds that fluttered desperately to new cover as I passed. They were linnets. I had seen them earlier, going across a field like leaves in the wind. The ivy on a wall at the end of the path was filled with sparrows. I touched it as I passed, and the roosting birds moved a few yards higher and disappeared into the shadow of the overhanging eaves. I felt that I should have gone on tiptoe. With a cold wind blowing, some of the birds might spend an uncomfortable night on exposed perches, for they move very little when darkness has fallen.
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