June 9
Already the sycamore leaves are riddled and other trees are threatened with defoliation, for caterpillars are working in force. Grubs which the wind has shaken from the feast climb up the trunks, arching their backs in loops. A harsh, wheezy chorus rises from the upper branches, drowning the rich voices of blackcap and willow wren, and even the lively clatter of the chaffinch; starlings, old and young, are, unconsciously, aiding the trees. The brown juveniles still demand parental donations, though, as I watched them, I saw that when no old bird was near they picked the caterpillars from the leaves with speed and accuracy; it is mere habit and greed that makes them so persistent in their demands.
I am asked why martins and swifts make so many bad shots at the nests or nesting-holes before they enter. As they say in Parliament, the answer is in the negative. When the birds want to enter they do enter, but they also pay constant visits for an affectionate glance at home, or for a moment cling to the wail, twittering conversationally, before darting off for another sweep round. Before the nests are made these visits are frequent; male and female will cling to the wall side by side and chatter contentedly: it is all part of the play of avian married life.
