He was
under my protection and felt quite safe: if I had taken any
part in that scene it would have been to order those two
persons who had once lorded it over him out of the room!
I didn't really mind his throwing over his master and taking
possession of the rug in my sitting-room, but I certainly did
very keenly resent his behaviour towards the birds every
morning at breakfast-time. It was my chief pleasure to feed
them during the bad weather, and it was often a difficult task
even before Jack came on the scene to mix himself in my
affairs. The Land's End is, I believe, the windiest place in
the world, and when I opened the window and threw the scraps
out the wind would catch and whirl them away like so many
feathers over the garden wall, and I could not see what became
of them. It was necessary to go out by the kitchen door at
the back (the front door facing the sea being impossible) and
scatter the food on the lawn, and then go into watch the
result from behind the window. The blackbirds and thrushes
would wait for a lull to fly in over the wall, while the daws
would hover overhead and sometimes succeed in dropping down
and seizing a crust, but often enough when descending they
would be caught and whirled away by the blast. The poor
magpies found their long tails very much against them in the
scramble, and it was even worse with the pied wagtail. He
would go straight for the bread and get whirled and tossed
about the smooth lawn like a toy bird made of feathers, his
tail blown over his head.
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