over, and, seeing me seated on a fallen stone and, motionless,
they took no further notice of me. Two blackbirds were there,
sitting a little way apart on the bare ground; these were
silent, the raggedest, rustiest-looking members of that little
company; for they were moulting, and their drooping wings and
tails had many unsightly gaps in them where the old feathers
had dropped out before the new ones had grown. They were
suffering from that annual sickness with temporary loss of
their brightest faculties which all birds experience in some
degree; the unseasonable rains and cold winds had been bad for
them, and now they were having their sun-bath, their best
medicine and cure.

By and by a pert-looking, bright-feathered, dapper cock
chaffinch dropped down from the bush, and, advancing to one of
the two, the rustiest and most forlorn-looking, started
running round and round him as if to make a close inspection
of his figure, then began to tease him. At first I thought it
was all in fun--merely animal spirit which in birds often
discharges itself in this way in little pretended attacks and
fights. But the blackbird had no play and no fight in him, no
heart to defend himself; all he did was to try to avoid the
strokes aimed at him, and he could not always escape them.
His spiritlessness served to inspire the chaffinch with
greater boldness, and then it appeared that the gay little
creature was really and truly incensed, possibly because the
rusty, draggled, and listless appearance of the larger bird
was offensive to him. Anyhow, the persecutions continued,
increasing in fury until they could not be borne, and the
blackbird tried to escape by hiding in the bramble. But he