"No, but I know who did," he returned, and he then gave me this curious
history of the trees. Five years before, the rabbits, finding it a
suitable spot to dig in, probably because of a softer chalk there,
made a number of deep burrows at that spot. When the wheatears, or
"horse-maggers" as he called them, returned in spring two or three pairs
attached themselves to this group of burrows and bred in them. There was
that season a solitary elder-bush higher up on the down among the furze
which bore a heavy crop of berries; and when the fruit was ripe he
watched the birds feeding on it, the wheatears among them. The following
spring seedlings came up out of the loose earth heaped about the rabbit
burrows, and as they were not cut down by the rabbits, for they dislike
the elder, they grew up, and now formed a clump of fifty or sixty little
trees of six feet to eight feet in height.
Who would have thought to find a tree-planter in the wheatear, the bird
of the stony waste and open naked down, who does not even ask for a bush
to perch on?
It then occurred to me that in every case where I had observed a
clump of elder bushes on the bare downside, it grew upon a village or
collection of rabbit burrows, and it is probable that in every case the
clump owed its existence to the wheatears who had dropped the seed about
their nesting-place. The clump where I had sought a shelter from the
storm was composed of large old dilapidated-looking half-dead elders;
perhaps their age was not above thirty or forty years, but they looked
older than hawthorns of one or two centuries; and under them the rabbits
had their diggings--huge old mounds and burrows that looked like a
badger's earth. Here, too, the burrows had probably existed first and
had attracted the wheatears, and the birds had brought the seed from
some distant bush.
Crouching down in one of the big burrows at the roots of an old elder I
remained for half an hour, listening to the thump-thump of the alarmed
rabbits about me, and the accompanying hiss and swish of the wind and
sleet and rain in the ragged branches.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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