Identifier: birdsofwavewoodl00robi (find matches)
Title: Birds of the wave and woodland. Illustrated by Charles Whymper and others
Year: 1894 (1890s)
Authors: Robinson, Philip Stewart, 1894-1902 Whymper, Charles, b. 1853
Subjects: Birds Birds in literature
Publisher: London, Isbister
Contributing Library: Smithsonian Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Smithsonian Libraries

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x-plicable, from hedgerow and ditch, had told you that animal-life was on foot and a-wing, and as you sate on the stile, inthe break of the high hedge, and saw the steam rising out ofthe clover, and the white moths, ermine and ghost, flash orflutter among the sweet bloom, it seemed as if everythingwas abroad, the day-things not yet asleep, the night-thingsalready astir. And all of a sudden the solitary corn-crake cries fromthe wheat. At once the whole air seems to hush : the veryevening to listen. Crakc-crakc comes the cry, and theregathers over the scene an indescribable atmosphere of com-pletest tranquillity. Crakc-crakc. Far away, somewhere inthe dip beyond the rise, sounds a sheep-bell, and the chidingvoice of the shepherds dog. But there is not a soundbesides. Crake-crake. And the mist creeps up the corn-stalks, and covers the campions, and the air grows damp withdew. It is going to be another hot day to-morrow, just as ithas been to-day. Crake-crake, cries the creeping rail, and
Text Appearing After Image:
THE CORN-CRAKE AND ITS COMPANIONS BIRDS OF THE WAVE AND WOODLAND 117 never a voice replies. And so homewards, up through thenieadow, hummocked with hay-coclvs, and rough to the feetwith short grass-stubble, from which the sleepy skylarksspring at every step : up to the elms that shade the garden,and on to the lawn. The bats wheel overhead, their softwings crumpling as they turn their somersaults, but never avoice in the air, save sharp needle-points of sound, as flitter-mouse calls to flittermouse. Only from among the wheat,now here, now there, comes up the cry of the rail, Crake-crake. It is a charming bird, sufficiently rare to make the seeingof it an event to remember all the summer ; the finding ofits nest a triumph. And then to see the young ones !—littleblack imps that run like spiders. Once only in my life couldI have shot one. I was out with my gun, strolling round for the unconsiderins: evenina^ rabbit, when all of a suddenfrom under my feet, in the furrow that separated th

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