After all, my thoughts and criticisms on the cathedral, as a
building, were merely incidental; my serious business was with
the feathered people to be seen there. Few in the woods and
fewer on the windy downs, here birds were abundant, not only
on the building, where they were like seafowl congregated on a
precipitous rock, but they were all about me. The level green
was the hunting ground of many thrushes--a dozen or twenty
could often be seen at one time--and it was easy to spot those
that had young. The worm they dragged out was not devoured;
another was looked for, then another; then all were cut up in
proper lengths and beaten and bruised, and finally packed into
a bundle and carried off. Rooks, too, were there, breeding on
the cathedral elms, and had no time and spirit to wrangle, but
could only caw-caw distressfully at the wind, which tossed
them hither and thither in the air and lashed the tall trees,
threatening at each fresh gust to blow their nests to pieces.
Small birds of half a dozen kinds were also there, and one
tinkle-tinkled his spring song quite merrily in spite of the
cold that kept the others silent and made me blue. One day I
spied a big queen bumble-bee on the ground, looking extremely
conspicuous in its black and chestnut coat on the fresh green
sward; and thinking it numbed by the cold I picked it up. It
moved its legs feebly, but alas! its enemy had found and
struck it down, and with its hard, sharp little beak had
drilled a hole in one of the upper plates of its abdomen, and
from that small opening had cunningly extracted all the meat.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150