Country diary 1918: fowls fill dead air with an alive gurgling call

19 January 1918 Ducks waddled across to a narrow outlet, dabbled with their beaks, flopped in, and breasted away from the current, catching an odd flake as it fellSURREYJust after daybreak, while snow was falling, the fowls crept from their house, flew into the bare branches of apple trees, and filled the dead air with an alive gurgling call which tells that laying time has come. Ducks waddled across to a narrow outlet where a stream breaks quickly for the river, dabbled with their beaks, flopped in, and breasted away from the current, now and then catching an odd flake as it fell. Wood and field birds winged about aimlessly, larks and linnets going separately in small flocks, and one wagtail went to the margin of the water as if for company with the swimming birds. The snow turned to rain; the wood, clothed a minute ago in white, was now naked and cold. But a thrush came, trilled softly, then broke into almost full song; a starling perched on the farmhouse eaves shook the wet from his feathers, and tried to warble; rooks swung in their nest trees and called. Continue reading...