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"'No fire can be lit in the hall, says Lawrence, 'for there's an ould jackdaw's nest in the chimney. "'Oh thin, says my father, 'let us stop in the kitchen, for it's very umproper for the likes iv me to be sittin' in the parlour, says he. "'Oh, Terry, that can't be, says Lawrence; 'if we keep up the ould custom at all, we may as well keep it up properly, says he.
Hector Ernescliffe discovered a jackdaw's nest in the chimney, whereupon the whole train rushed off to investigate, leaving the two doctors and Ethel standing together in the empty parlour, Dr. May pressing, Dr. Spencer raising desultory objections; but so evidently against his own wishes, that Ethel said, "Now, indeed, you must not disappoint us all." "No," said Dr. May, "it is a settled thing."
He at once clipped the Jackdaw's wings, and taking him home at night, gave him to his children. On their saying, "Father, what kind of bird is it?" he replied, "To my certain knowledge he is a Daw; but he would like you to think an Eagle." The Fox and the Crane
The good dame herself was industrious, not only from thrift but from taste, and if not busy in her vocation or in household business, was either using her distaff or her needle, or chatting with her neighbours often doing both at once; but though Aldonza could spin, sew, and embroider admirably, and would do so at the least request from her hostess, it was always a sort of task, and she never seemed so happy as when seated on the floor, with her dark eyes dreamily fixed on the narrow window, where hung her jackdaw's cage, and the beads of her rosary passing through her fingers.
Overhead the nightingale sang, and the full moon shone; its rays struck down on the little Jackdaw's head. For a bird that is not a nightingale to wake up and find its head unprotected under the rays of a full moon is serious: there and then he became moon-struck. He went back into bed; but he was no longer the same little Jackdaw.
The doctor listened with the greatest respect, and seemed to weigh the matter in his mind. Then he said rather uncertainly: "But how about the cats?" Ambrose admitted that danger, but was still sure of his first point. It was best to cut a jackdaw's wing. "I wonder," he said, looking at the other window, "if you're quite sure he's not in the garden. P'r'aps he's up in some tree."
Ambrose's head was more in Sir Thomas's books than in real life at all times, or he would long ago have inferred something from the jackdaw's favourite phrase from Giles's modes of haunting his steps, and making him the bearer of small tokens an orange, a simnel cake, a bag of walnuts or almonds to Mistress Aldonza, and of the smiles, blushes, and thanks with which she greeted them.
I believe Baudrons anticipated the death of Peter as the crowning achievement of his life; and had he been consulted in the matter of the Lydia he might have shown some reluctance to enter the community of mice before he had compassed the jackdaw's death.
He gave the most earnest attention to Ambrose's little difficulties, and did not rest till he was sure that they were cleared away; then he took up his squeaking quill-pen again, gave a push to his wig, and scribbled away harder than ever. During these hours of study the jackdaw's presence was a relief both to Ambrose and his master, though in a different way.
"I believe you, Greta." The blackbird hopped into the shrubbery. "You frightened him, Uncle Nic! Papa says that at Schloss Konig, where he lived when he was young, he would always be after jackdaws' nests." "Gammon, Greta. Your father never took a jackdaw's nest, his legs are much too round!" "Are you fond of birds, Uncle Nic?" "Ask me another, Greta! Well, I s'pose so."
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