Read Ebook: Woodside or Look Listen and Learn. by Hadley Caroline

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Ebook has 411 lines and 21922 words, and 9 pages

"She shall lean her ear In many a secret place, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face."

"How can sound show itself in a face, grandmamma?" asked Jack.

"Supposing you heard a loud, sudden scream, you would be startled and frightened by the cry; if you heard a tremendous clap of thunder, you might look a little frightened too, but you would also look solemn and still as you heard the grand sound; but you would have quite another look if you were lying on your back under a shady tree some calm summer evening, listening to the low song of the birds, and to the many sounds that are almost silence."

"Cuckoo! cuckoo!"

"O grandmamma, there's the cuckoo!" cried all the children at once.

"Yes; there are a great many cuckoos about here. They say it is only the male bird that calls 'Cuckoo,' that the female simply makes a chattering sound."

"Did you ever see a cuckoo, grandma?"

"No, never a live bird, only one stuffed. I will tell you a story of how I heard one once. It was about five-and-twenty years ago. I wanted some primroses for a nosegay. I used to pick the long feathery moss that grows in these woods and put the primroses among it. I ran across the road outside of our gates--for I could run in those days--and soon filled my basket with as many primroses as I wanted. As I was standing under a large tree, I heard all at once, exactly over my head, a loud, gruff cry of 'Cuckoo.' I was so startled, the cry was so near, that I thought it must be a rude man, and I dropped all my primroses and ran back to the gates.

"Then I thought, 'How foolish of me to be frightened; it is the 18th of April, the right time for the cuckoo to come back to England from the warm country where he has been all the winter,--of course it is a real cuckoo.' So I went back and picked up my primroses, but I heard no more of that cuckoo.

"I told my children when I came indoors about my adventure; and how they did laugh at their mother for being frightened at a bird.

"I shall always think, though, that that particular cuckoo must have caught a bad cold on his long journey to England, or soon after his arrival, for his voice sounded as if he had a sore throat."

"Now children," said grandmamma, rising from her seat, "it is time we walked homewards."

As they came near to the house they saw Smut sitting on the door-step, waiting patiently to be let in at the front door.

Within a short distance of the house was a brook, almost hidden in places by overhanging bushes and long reedy grass. Then it flowed into more open ground; but it was very quiet in its flow, for the bed was soft and not stony.

Of course the next day the children set off for this brook, to listen to its "murmuring sound." Jack lay down upon the ground and leaned his head over the brook, thinking he could hear better in that fashion. Mary said she should sit down by a bend in the stream and be comfortable, for she was sure she could not listen well if she were afraid of rolling into the water; while little Annie sat by her sister's side, holding her hand and shutting her eyes.

If you had seen those children then, you would have wondered what they were doing, they were so serious and intent; but by the quiet look upon their faces they seemed to enjoy the music of the softly-flowing stream. So low was the sound, that you would hardly have noticed it if you had not been thinking about it.

Often during this visit they would have games at "harking," as they called it; for they said, "We may as well hear as much as we can, as our father and uncle and aunts did when they were children." They would shut their eyes for some minutes, and then they would tell each other what they had heard. I can tell you their ears grew very sharp with all this practice; for, like other children, they had their quiet moods, when under the lofty forest trees or in the garden nooks they would listen, not for fun but for enjoyment.

"The goldfinch, and blackbird, and thrush, Are brimful of music and glee; They have each got a nest in some bush, And the rook has built his on a tree."

BERNARD BARTON.

About a mile off, at the other end of the wood, was a village, which joined an old town so closely that they seemed to be only one place.

The old town was quiet now; but it had been a very busy place many years ago, in the old coach days. I cannot tell you how many coaches daily ran through it, or changed horses at the different inns, on their way from London to towns in distant parts of England.

Now the railway had stopped every coach, and in the valley, through these very woods, the trains rushed along, panting and puffing as if they were running a race with Time.

Fortunately, the trains ran through a tunnel at this spot, so the beauty of the woods was not disturbed.

There was a large green belonging to the village, on the edge of which lived the children's aunt Lizzie, who had married a doctor. She had two children--Tom, who was eleven years old, and Katey, who was nine. They went to school daily in the adjoining town, so they were unable to see much of their cousins, excepting upon half-holidays, as it was now school time.

But you must not suppose that Jack and his sisters did nothing but play during this long visit. As soon as they had settled down, grandmamma engaged a young lady to come to teach them for about two hours every morning. Woodside was too far from the town for the children to go to school with their cousins. When they were at home they went to a kindergarten school, where they learned in the wisest and pleasantest fashion.

The children always looked forward to the half-holidays, when they either went up to their cousins' home, or Tom and Katey came down to them.

One Saturday afternoon, when they went to the green, Tom showed them his collection of birds' eggs. He kept them in shallow boxes full of bran, so that they should not get broken, for he was very careful over them.

Tom's mother told him never to take more than one egg from each nest, unless there were a great many, as there are in wrens' nests, so that the mother bird might not grieve.

"Please show us a robin redbreast's egg," said little Annie.

Tom took two or three from under the bran, and showed her the eggs, which were yellowish-gray mottled with red-brown.

"Mrs. Redbreast has not nearly so red a breast as Robin," he said.

"I suppose you have plenty of sparrows' eggs," said Mary, "they are such common birds."

"Yes; here they are. They are rather large for the size of the bird; they are spotted and streaked all over with gray and brown."

"What a lovely pale greenish-blue egg that is!" exclaimed Mary.

"Yes, that it is," said Tom; "and it belongs to a dear little brown bird--the hedge-sparrow. It is not at all the same kind of bird as the house-sparrow, for it is one of the warblers. It is a prettier bird, and has prettier eggs than the common sparrow. He builds his nest very early, before the hedges are covered with leaves; so his nest often gets stolen. He is one of the birds that stay in England all through the winter.--These speckled eggs of a bluish-gray belong to the linnet, which has a very sweet song, although not very powerful.--These belong to the chaffinch; they, you see, are greenish-purple spotted with brown. See here! I have a nest made by this bird."

"It is perfectly lovely," said Mary.

"It is, indeed; it is one of the most beautiful of all the birds' nests--such a nice round shape, and so firm that it does not easily fall to pieces. Inside it is lined with hair and feathers, and downy things, which make it ever so soft. Just put your finger inside, Annie, and feel it. Outside it is made of moss, fine dry grass, and wool, all matted together, and covered all over with the lichen which grows on the trunks and branches of trees. It is often very difficult to find this bird's nest, it looks so exactly like the part of a tree."

"Have you a blackbird's egg?" asked Jack. "I know his note, for it is clear and louder than that of most of the other birds."

"Yes, here are some. You see they are of a bluish-green colour, with dark blotches; and very pretty they are too.--Those blue eggs with a few black spots on them belong to the thrush. You must have heard the thrushes singing about grandpa's garden; there are plenty of them there."

"I'm afraid you haven't a cuckoo's egg, Tom," said Annie.

"I am so lucky as to have one, Annie. It is very small for the size of the bird, and not particularly pretty. You see it is a dull-looking egg, whitish, with pale-brown markings. This particular egg was taken from the nest of a hedge-sparrow; but cuckoos' eggs have been found in the nests of many other birds--robin's, and skylark's, and chaffinch's, linnet's, blackbird's, and wren's, and many more besides."

"Why does not the cuckoo build a nest for herself?" asked Annie.

"Nobody seems to know why she doesn't; but there's the fact. When the cuckoo has laid an egg, she carries it in her wide, gaping mouth, and puts it into the nest of another bird that she has chosen for it. When the egg is hatched, the young cuckoo grows so fast that he wants all the nest to himself. He turns the other young birds that have been hatched with him out of the nest, and the true parents of these little birds have to spend all their time in feeding the cuckoo. It takes a great deal to feed him, because he grows so fast, and is so much larger than they are. They don't seem to mind it though.--Those pale-green eggs with dark-brown spots belonged to a rook's nest in the elm-tree at the bottom of the garden. There's a curious story about those rooks down there, for they have not been there long. There is an old rookery belonging to the Rectory close by our house; and one day the rooks from there came to our elm-tree. It was in the spring. At last they came frequently, and chattered, and cawed, and flew round and round, as if they did not know what to do about building their nests in it. By-and-by their visits ceased, and they built their nests as usual in the Rectory trees. That very summer, during one still night, a large branch, almost a third of the elm-tree, fell to the ground. The rooks seemed to know that the tree was not safe, and so they would not build in it. That was two years ago; and this spring they have begun to build, and there are several nests now in our elm-tree. It is most interesting to watch the ways of rooks; they seem to have a lot of business on hand. There is another rookery in the town, in the garden of Mrs. Cross, a friend of my mother's. Rooks always leave the town rookeries for the country as soon as their young ones are able to fly. Now Mrs. Cross noticed that her rooks, after they had gone to the fields, always came back each morning quite early to look after their nests. They stayed a little while to talk over matters; then they flew back again to the fields. One very stormy morning she noticed that instead of the whole flock coming and alighting, one solitary rook ventured through the wind and rain, flying round and round the trees without settling, and then flew back again to the others to give his report that all was right in the old home."

"What clever birds they must be!" said Mary.

"They are," said Tom. "There are lots of stories about rooks, but what I have told you happened under our very eyes.--I have a sparrow-hawk's egg here, white, spotted with brown. It was given to my father by a man for me. There are not many of these birds about here."

"Oh," said Jack, "I wish I could get a collection of birds' eggs!"

"It is almost too late in the season now," said Tom. "Still, you might get some from late nests. I can spare you some from mine, to make a beginning. I know a young fellow, who lives about a half-mile off, who has a large collection of eggs. We'll go and see him one Saturday afternoon. He is sure to have some to give away, for he is always adding to his store, and he is very good-natured."

A few days after Tom had shown his cousins his collection of birds' eggs, Jack, as he was coming away from a visit to Lion, passed by the end of the potting-shed. The gardener was in there, and he called out, "Master Jack, I've got something for you in here."

Jack went into the shed, and the gardener fumbled about on a shelf till he found what he was looking for.

"There," he said, "is a thrush's nest; I thought you'd like it. I took it out of one of the trees in the orchard. It has got four pretty eggs in it."

"Oh," said Jack, "how splendid! What a treasure! It does seem a shame, though, to take it from the birds."

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