ad and to
Tolworth Farm. Beside Claygate Lane, where the signpost points to
Hook, there is a withybed which is a favourite cover for hares.
There is a gateway (on the left of the lane) just past the signpost,
from which you can see all one side of the osiers; the best time is
when the clover begins to close its leaves for the evening. On May
3, looking over the gate there, I watched two hares enjoying
themselves in the corn; they towered high above it--it was not more
than four or five inches--and fed with great unconcern, though I was
not concealed. A nightingale sang in the bushes within a few yards,
and two cuckoos chased each other, calling as they flew across the
lane; once one passed just overhead. The cuckoo has a note like
'chuck, chuck,' besides the well-known cry, which is uttered
apparently when the bird is much exerted. These two were quite
restless; they were to and fro from the fields on one side of the
lane to those on the other, now up the hedge, now in a tree, and
continually scolding each other with these 'chuck-chucking' sounds.
Chaffinches were calling from the tops of the trees; the chaffinches
now have a note much like one used by the yellow-hammer, different
from their song and from their common 'fink tink.' I was walking by
the same place, on April 24, when there was suddenly a tremendous
screaming and threatening, and, glancing over the fields bordering
on the Waffrons, there were six jays fighting. They screamed at and
followed each other in a fury, real or apparent, up and down the
hedge, and then across the fields out of sight. There were three
jays together in a field by the Ewell road on May 1.

Just past the bridge over the Hogsmill brook at Tolworth Court there
begins, on the left-hand side of the road, a broad mound, almost a
cover in itself. At this time, before the underwood is up, much that
goes on in the mound can be seen. There are several nightingales
here, and they sometimes run or dart along under the trailing ivy,
as if a mouse had rushed through it. The rufous colour of the back
increases the impression; the hedgerows look red in the sunshine.
Whitethroats are in full song everywhere: they have a twitter
sometimes like swallows. A magpie flew up from the short green corn
to a branch low down an elm, his back towards me, and as he rose his
tail seemed to project from a white circle. The white tips of his
wings met--or apparently so--as he fluttered, both above and beneath
his