“An’ all t’ while shoo kept beatin’ t’ time to t’ song o’ t’ birds wi’ her wand.  Soomtimes shoo pointed to t’ curlews aboon t’ moor; then, sudden-like, shoo lowered t’ wand, while it were pointin’ into t’ hazel shaws an’ rowan bushes by t’ beck-side; and afore I knew what were happening t’ blackbirds wakkened up an’ started whistlin’ like mad.  I niver heerd sich a shoutin’ afore.  It were fair deafenin’, just as if there were a blackbird in ivery bush alang t’ beck.  They kept at it for happen fower or five minutes, an’ then t’ lass made a fresh motion wi’ t’ wand.  What’s coomin’ next, I wondered, an’ afore I’d done wonderin’, sure enough, t’ robins gat agate an’ tried to shout down t’ blackbirds an’ all.  You see I’d niver noticed afore that when t’ birds start singin’ i’ t’ morn they keep to a reg’lar order.  It’s just like a procession i’ t’ church.  First cooms t’ choir lads i’ their supplices, an’ happen a peppermint ball i’ their mouths; then t’ choir men, tenors and basses; then t’ curate, keekin’ alang t’ pews to see if squire’s lasses are lookin’ at him, an’ at lang length cooms t’ vicar hissen.  Well, it’s just t’ same wi’ t’ birds.  Skylarks wakkens up first, then curlews, then blackbirds, robins, throstles.  You’ll niver hear a throstle i’ front o’ a robin, nor a robin i’ front o’ a blackbird.  They mind what’s menseful same as fowks do.  At efter, mebbe cuckoo will begin to shout, an’ close behind him will coom t’ spinks an’ pipits an’ lile tits.  Eh, deary me! but I’ve clean forgotten most pairt o’ what I’ve larnt misel about t’ birds.  They do iverything as reg’lar as if ’twere clockwork.

“I wonder if you childer can tell me what is t’ bird that ligs abed langest?”

There was silence for a moment or two, and then Kester Laycock suggested rooks.

“Nay,” answered Grannie, “rooks are not what I sud call early risers, but they’re not t’ last birds up, not by a lang way.  T’ last bird to wakken up an’ t’ first bird to gan to bed is t’ house-sparrow.  An idle taistrill is t’ sparrow, wi’ nowther sense nor mense in his head.  But theer, barns, I’m gettin’ off t’ track o’ my story o’ Janet an’ t’ way shoo wakkened up t’ birds wi’ her wand.

“You see shoo allus knew whose turn sud coom next, an’ wheer ivery sort o’ bird was roostin’.  One minute shoo pointed t’ stick to t’ top o’ t’ trees, an’ then I heerd ‘Caw!  Caw!’ Then shoo’d bring t’ jackdaws out o’ their holes i’ t’ rocks, an’ next minute shoo were pointin’ to t’ mossy roots o’ t’ trees hingin’ ower t’ beck, while a Jenny wren would hop out an’ sing as though he were fit to brust hissen.  An’ all t’ time it were gettin’ leeter an’ leeter, an’ I could see that t’ sun were shinin’ on’ t’ cliffs aboon Malham, though Janet’s Cove were still i’ t’ shade.  I knew my mother would sooin be seekin’ me i’ my cham’er, an’ I started wonderin’ what shoo’d say when shoo fan’ t’ bed empty.  I gat a bit flaid when I thowt o’ that, but I couldn’t tak my een off t’ lass wi’ t’ wand.  I were fair bewitched wi’ her, an’ I doubt that if shoo’d pointed at me I sud hae started singin’ ‘Here coom three dukes a-rid in’.’