All through the long, anxious months of spring and early summer the keeper has been sifting and weighing the points of evidence upon which he will be able to base a final judgment of the season's prospects. In June there are many signs which go to make up a long story; thus, nest after nest may be found to contain egg-shells, all broken in the same way--nearer the round than the pointed end--telling of the successful hatching of partridges. Then the keeper becomes so accustomed to encountering parent partridges who threaten to bar his way, while their downy chicks magically vanish, that he grows almost indifferent to their agitation. But in July, to judge the welfare of game is extremely difficult. Hedges and woodlands are in the prime of their growth; and in midsummer days luxuriant vegetation hides nearly all birds on the ground. By chance a keeper may happen on a brood; he notes that sixteen have dwindled to ten, and wonders whether the heavy shower three weeks ago come Sunday, or the old vixen he knows too well, or the widow's tortoiseshell cat, must bear the responsibility. But most game-birds seen are old ones--birds perhaps whose nests have been destroyed too late for a second nesting, or birds whose young ones have met with an untimely fate. Wary old birds with families are specially cautious to keep well out of sight. Distressing, then, as it is continually to see barren birds, there is consolation in the knowledge that naturally they are more in evidence than parents with thriving young ones. With July the days pass that are most risky to young game--safe days lie ahead; and with the cutting of the first harvest fields the most valuable of all evidence is gained as to the numbers of birds. Later on, as fields of standing corn become fewer, birds of all sorts flock to them, and estimates of quantity are likely to be misleading. But if it can be proved that three different coveys have been seen during the cutting of a piece of forward corn, it is to err on the moderate side to reckon that there are three others, though unseen. To all interested in the numbers of game-birds these are fateful days. * * * * * Useful Work by Game-Birds A dry summer is bad for swedes--among other things. Many grow disfigured by wart-like excrescences about the size of a pea. Therein lurk grubs, as partridges and pheasants know. They chip off the warts, and one may see the rusty-looking hole in the centre of each one whence the grub has been taken. All round the swedes these detached warts may be seen, lying face uppermost, and proving the usefulness of game-birds, particularly partridges. * * * * * Life of the Cornfield