This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1859 edition. Excerpt: ... BIRDSNESTING, AND COUNTRY VISITS. What sunny seasons had we used to have at Holyrood, when the time of birdsnesting came round, but by birdsnesting I mean rather the finding than the taking of birdsnests. I was a birdsnester taking eggs and young birds, for one spring only, and ever after renounced ...
Read More
This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1859 edition. Excerpt: ... BIRDSNESTING, AND COUNTRY VISITS. What sunny seasons had we used to have at Holyrood, when the time of birdsnesting came round, but by birdsnesting I mean rather the finding than the taking of birdsnests. I was a birdsnester taking eggs and young birds, for one spring only, and ever after renounced the cruelty, while I retained the enjoyment of the pastime. How varied are the haunts and the habits of the feathered race. Some flit along near the ground, some winnow their way in the sky, some frequent the hill, and some the lowly dale. The past comes over me as I look back at my youthful days. I am with my companions roaming the lanes and fields from Bilberry hill to Horberry bog, and from Brookhouse farm to Tollerton wood. I can almost see the trees that were then growing, and all but hear the birds that were then singing! On the edge of the wood in the old hollow ivycovered tree, an owl is hooting hideously. Her nest is there. How often have I climbed that old tree. Memory takes me back to the sunny seasons of boyhood. On a twig near the brink of the brook sits a king-fisher, with his shining green head and wings spotted with light blue, --his back and tail are azure, his breast is white, the under part of his body is orange, and his legs and toes are red. Now he is hovering over the brook like a hawk, and now darting into the water for his prey with the swiftness of an arrow from a boy. The king-fisher's six white eggs, are lying in a hole on the bank of the brook. On we go, my companions as happy as myself. One finds on the dried grass scraped together by the pewit, or lapwing, for a nest, four olive coloured eggs spotted with black. Another climbs the tall elm to a crow's nest, and a third discovers among the reeds of the dark pond the..
Read Less