Occasionally, too, while they are
quietly taking the air beyond the park boundaries, they have the
incaution to come within the reach of the truant bowman of Slingsby's
school, and receive a flight shot from some unlucky urchin's arrow. In
such case, the wounded adventurer will sometimes have just strength
enough to bring himself home, and, giving up the ghost at the rookery,
will hang dangling "all abroad" on a bough, like a thief on a
gibbet--an awful warning to his friends, and an object of great
commiseration to the Squire.
But, maugre all these untoward incidents, the rooks have, upon the
whole, a happy holiday life of it. When their young are reared and
fairly launched upon their native element, the air, the cares of the
old folks seem over, and they resume all their aristocratical dignity
and idleness. I have envied them the enjoyment which they appear to
have in their ethereal heights, sporting with clamorous exultation
about their lofty bowers; sometimes hovering over them, sometimes
partially alighting upon the topmost branches, and there balancing
with outstretched wings and swinging in the breeze. Sometimes they
seem to take a fashionable drive to the church and amuse themselves by
circling in airy rings about its spire; at other times a mere garrison
is left at home to mount guard in their stronghold at the grove, while
the rest roam abroad to enjoy the fine weather.
Pages:
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367