Every now
and then a rustling in the heaps of straw indicates the presence of
mice. From straw and stone and bare earth heat seems to rise up. The
glare of the sunlight pours from above. The black pitched wooden walls
of the barn and sheds prevent the circulation of air. There are no trees
for shadow--nothing but a few elder bushes, which are crowded at
intervals of a few minutes with sparrows rushing with a whirr of wings
up from the standing corn.
But the high pitched roof of the barn and of the lesser sheds has a
beauty of its own--the minute vegetation that has covered the tiles
having changed the original dull red to an orange hue. From ridge to
eaves, from end to end, it is a wide expanse of colour, only varying so
much in shade as to save it from monotony. It stands out glowing,
distinct against the deep blue of the sky. The 'cheep' of fledgeling
sparrows comes from the crevices above; but swallows do not frequent
solitary buildings so much as those by dwelling-houses, being especially
fond of cattle-sheds where cows are milked.
The proximity of animals apparently attracts them: perhaps in the more
exposed places there may be dangers from birds of prey. As for the
sparrows, they are innumerable. Some are marked with white patches--a
few so much so as to make quite a show when they fly. One handsome cock
bird has a white ring half round his neck, and his wings are a beautiful
partridge-brown.
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