[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] Sin,—Your correspondent's letter, in
the Spectator of October 5th, about rooks leads me to tell you an incident which always seems to me one of the strangest of the many stories of the sagacity of rooks. We were living some years ago in the suburbs of London, and had a garden in which were a good many fine old elms. They grew in an irregular line down the length of the lawn, and were continued beyond the boundary hedge half-way across the field beyond. The trees in the field were full of rooks' nests, and were a perpetual interest and amusement to watch,—but never a neat was built in the trees on our side the hedge till we had been for some years in the house. Then one day we found the rooks had begun a nest in one of our trees, a fine old elm under which we constantly eat and a favourite spot for afternoon tea. This we found was too inconvenient to be borne, as we could no longer sit there, and much as we loved our neighbours, the rooks, we felt they must have notice to quit ; so, before the nest was finished, I took my husband's revolver and fired through the empty nest. The effect was immense. The whole colony gathered and flew round and round the tree, making a great noise for a long time, and within a few hours they re- moved every twig of the nearly completed nest and rebuilt it, this time in the next tree, which was only a few yards distant but grew on the other side of the hedge. They never trespassed again. After some years we left the house, and the move took place just at the time the rooks were beginning to build. About ten days after we left, I returned to the old house for a few hours, and found to my astonishment that the rooks were in full possession of our garden, and had already made five or six nests in the trees on our lawn, some of them close to the house. The gardener was still at work, and a caretaker with children in the house, so that it was not the greater quiet that tempted them.-1 am, Sir, &c., Garlands, Bedhill, October 7th. A. E. THorarsoN.