In royal and fine gardens, of course, one must have two birds; the peacock and the owl, for these two give all the air of romance needful, though I have never myself regarded the peacock as a King of birds, for he makes too much of a show of himself, and his wife is a humble creature. I feel, rather, that he is a courtier strutting up and down waiting the King’s pleasure; a place-seeker, one who will cheer the side that pays. As for the owl, that dusky guardian of secrets, he is a far more solid and trustworthy fellow than the gay peacock, and though he snores in the daytime, his great round yellow eyes are open at the least sound in his haunt.
This is far afield from the weather, so let us give the remaining saying of birds that the gardener may notice.
November ice that bears a duck
Brings a winter of slush and muck.
That I hold to be very true.
There are still one or two rhymes that should be well noted, three of the rain.
1
When it rains before seven
It will cease before eleven.
2