We have a pretty story to tell ourselves about the perseverance of
partridges. In a district where few were found, a pair had left the
fields and nested within a stone's-throw of the keeper's cottage. It
stood in a green glade, sheltered on all sides by rambling old woods.
For four successive seasons this partridge pair nested within a few
yards of the same spot: and year after year something upset their
plans, and spoiled all prospects of their hope of a covey--a hedgehog,
rooks, inquisitive children, but, luckily, not a fox. The fifth
season found the persevering birds trying again; their nest contained
seventeen eggs. The site was an obvious one, but now the birds' luck
turned. Just when it seemed that nothing could keep the nest from the
eyes of any curious passers-by, a fine plant of hemlock sprang up to
provide a screen and shelter. Every egg was then hatched, and every
chick was reared to the flying stage. True, by September the young
birds had been reduced until only nine were left. But as the keeper
said, that was better than that a fox should have killed the old hen
on her nest; and a family of nine was very creditable to a pair of
five-year-old birds.
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