When Philip had rejoined me on the hill-top, he rapidly led the way to the fringe of the covert, where he pointed to a low hedge-bank between the gorse and a peat-field partly covered with water. "Hide in the hedge about ten yards from this spot," he said, "so that you can see on either side of the bank, then watch the path on this side." With a smile he added: "This isn't a bad locality for a fern-owl. So, if you happen to hear the rattle of that bird, you'll know the hare has started from her 'form.'" Then, turning quickly into the furze and taking a bypath through the thickest part of the tangle, Philip left me, and, soon afterwards, I moved to my allotted hiding place.

Before I had waited long, the cry of the fern-owl reached me with astonishing clearness from an adjoining field. Presently, I saw a hare emerge from the gorse and come along the path towards me. At the exact spot indicated by the poacher, she paused, and then with a single bound cleared the wide space between herself and the hedge. With another bound she landed on the marsh beyond, where she splattered away through the shallow water till a dry reed-bed was reached on a slight elevation in the marsh. There she was lost to view; the rank herbage screened her further line of flight.

A minute afterwards, the fern owl's rattle once more broke on the quiet evening, now from a few fields away to my right. For some time, I closely watched the open space around the hedge-bank, but no animal moved on the path. Suddenly, however, I thought I detected a slight movement in a bracken frond beside the furze. It was not repeated, and I had concluded that it signified nothing, when, to my amazement, I caught sight of a second hare squatting in the middle of the path near the bracken. How she came there I was unable to understand; for some time my eyes had been directed towards the spot, and certainly I had not seen her leave the ferns. She seemed to have risen from the earth—something intangible that had instantly assumed the shape of a living creature. She took a few strides towards my hiding place, but, exactly where the first hare had leaped, she turned sharply at right angles to the path, and with a long, easy bound sprang to the top of the hedge-bank; then with another bound she flung herself into the marshy field. Making straight for the reed-bed, she, too, was soon out of sight.

All that thus happened appeared to be the outcome of long experience; the adoption by the hares of a more perfect plan to mislead a single enemy pursuing by scent could hardly be conceived. A pack of hounds, "checking" on the path, would in all probability have "cast" around, and, sooner or later, would have struck the line afresh in the marshy field, but a fox or a polecat would surely have been baffled, either at the leaping places or where the hares had crossed through the shallow water.

Man's intelligence, united with the intelligence, the eagerness, the pace, the endurance, and the marvellous powers of scent possessed by a score of hounds, and then pitted against a single creature fleeing for its life, should well nigh inevitably attain its end. Nature has not yet taught her weaklings how to match that powerful combination. And so a naturalist, in studying the artifices adopted by hunted animals, should be interested chiefly as to how such artifices would succeed against pursuers unassisted by human intelligence. I am inclined to believe that even a pack of well-trained harriers would have been unable to follow the doe-hares I have referred to, unless the scent lay unusually well on the surface of the marsh.

I stayed in the covert awhile, but when the call came for me to rejoin Philip I hastened to the field in which he was waiting. I told him what I had seen, and, together, we paid a visit to the doe-hares' "forms." One of the "forms" lay in a clump of fern and brambles near the corner of a fallow, the other on a slight elevation where a hedger had thrown some "trash" beside a ditch in a field of unripe wheat.

While we stood in the wheat-field, Philip remarked: "We mustn't stay long before going back to the Crag; but I'll call the doe I sent you from this 'form,' and perhaps you'll see one of her tricks to mislead a fox as she returns home. She's very careful of her young till they're about a fortnight old, though soon afterwards she lets them 'fend' for themselves. We'll hide in the ditch, and I'll imitate a leveret's cry. But I mustn't imitate it so that she may think her little one is hurt, else she's as likely as not to come with a rush, and you won't see how she'd act under ordinary circumstances."

When we were comfortably settled in the fern, the poacher twice uttered a feeble, wailing cry, and, after being silent for some minutes, repeated the quavering call. Then, after a long interval, he again, though in a much lower tone, repeated the cry. No answering cry was heard, but suddenly, as she had appeared on the path by the furze, the doe-hare came in sight at the edge of the ditch a little distance away. She approached for several yards, then disappeared, with two or three long, graceful bounds, into the corn that waved about her as she leaped. She appeared once more, and squatted in the ditch on the other side of the field; hence she jumped high into the air, and alighted on the hedge; then, by a longer bound than any I had previously seen, she gained a spot well out into the field, and raced along, till, directly opposite us, she yet again leaped into the hedge, and from the hedge into the wheat-field, where she immediately lay down with her little ones in the "form."

Ianto, Philip, and I at last settled quietly to watch for the badger's visit to the clearing. Philip told in a whisper of jokes he had played on the keeper; Ianto capped these stories with reminiscences of younger days and nights; and I, though hating bitterly the ruffian loiterers of the village who subsisted on the spoils of the trap, the snare, and the net, and were guilty of cowardly acts of revenge when checkmated in the very game they chose to play, felt a certain sympathy with the two old men by my side, who, as I was convinced, had fairly and squarely entered into the game, and taken their few reverses without retaliation, only becoming afterwards keener than ever to avoid all interference.

In the height of my enjoyment of an unusually good story, Philip, with a slight movement, drew my attention to a faint, crackling noise coming from the margin of the glade, where moonlight and shadow lay in sharp contrast at the foot of the trees; he then whispered that the old badger was standing there. Ianto almost simultaneously drew my attention thither, but all that I could see at the spot indicated were small, flickering patches of light and shadow.

I quietly drew close to Philip, and murmured in his ear: "Are you sure it's the badger?" He nodded; and I continued, "I see a movement in the leaves, but nothing else." The old man turned his head slightly, and replied, "What you see is the badger scratching his neck against a tree; the ticks are evidently tickling him." And he chuckled as he recognised his unintentional pun.

For some minutes I could hardly believe he was right; then, slowly, I recognised the shape of the badger's head, and what I had taken to be flickering lights and shadows on the leaves changed to the black and white markings of the creature's face. I had never before seen a badger under similar conditions; and I had often wondered what purpose those boldly contrasted markings could serve. Now, as their purpose was revealed, I was startled by the manifestation of Nature's protective mimicry. Even when, a little later, the animal ventured out from the oak, and stood alert for the least sight or sound or scent of danger, the moonlight and the shadow blended so harmoniously with the white and the black of his face markings, and with the soft blue-grey of his body, that he seemed completely at one with his surroundings, and likely to elude the most observant enemy. Fully a half hour went by before he decided to cross the glade. Then, as if irritated by a sense of his own timidity, he abandoned his excessive caution, and hastened along his run-way through the clearing; and, as he passed, I noted his queer, rolling gait, and heard his squeaks and grunts as if he were angrily complaining to himself of some recent wrong, and vowing vengeance; I heard, also, the snapping of leaves and twigs beneath his clumsy feet, and I smelt the sure and certain smell of a badger.

Soon, the fisherman and I turned homewards, and left the poacher to less innocent sport. As we gained the crest of the hill, the melancholy cry of the brown owl came to our ears; and Ianto said, "Philip is a big vagabond—bigger than me, I think. No doubt he's fetched his nets from the cave beneath the Crag, and is down at the river by now. Promise me, sir, as you'll never go nigh that cave when he's alive. It's his secret place, as only him and me knows anything about. He told me to ask you that favour."

Long after both Ianto and Philip were dead, I happened one day, while in the woods, to remember the incidents I have just related, and I made my way to the foot of the Crag. I found no opening in the face of the rock, except one—apparently a rabbit hole—near a rent in the boulder. Climbing around the rock, however, I noticed that a large, flat stone lay in a rather unexpected position on a narrow cleft. I removed it, and saw that it covered the entrance to a dark hollow. At the same moment I heard a slight rustle behind me, as some animal darted from the hole I had previously examined. I scrambled down into the chamber, and there, when my eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, I saw three tiny fox-cubs huddled on the damp, mossy ground. As I knelt to stroke them gently, and my hand rested for a moment on the floor beside them, I touched the remains of an old, rotting net.



FOOTNOTES:

[1] In "Ianto the Fisherman, and Other Sketches of Country Life."



INDEX.

Animals, wild, awakening from hibernation, 146 ——, ——, dislike rain, 428 ——, ——, feet made tender by hibernation, 154 ——, ——, habit of sociable, 160 ——, ——, keeping to old haunts, 298 ——, ——, selfishness of, 318

Ant, habits of queen, 156 ——, habits of yellow, 65, 66

Autumn, bird-migration in, 12

Badger, and fox-hounds, 349 ——, and stoat, 323 ——, attempt to unearth, 367-373 ——, fondness of, for honey, 335, 336, 345 ——, food of, 305, 310-313, 324, 335 ——, mocked by birds when abroad in daylight, 309 ——, persecuted for supposed sheep-killing, 353-355 ——, regular habits in returning to "set" at dawn, 350 ——, sociability of, 332, 333 ——, winter habits of, 340, 341

Badger-cub, and wasps, 337 ——, caught in trap, 326, 327

Badger-cubs, at play, 301, 302, 346 ——, closely confined by parents, 303 Badger-cubs, dying from distemper, 338 ——, less nervous than fox-cubs, 321

Badgers, at play, 359 ——, carrying bedding to "set," 361 ——, reconnoitring before young leave "set," 415 ——, sulking at home if suspicious of danger, 422 ——, two families inhabiting same "set," 359

Bank-voles, and kestrel, 147 ——, colony of, 147

Basset-hounds, described, 278 ——, hunting with, 280-282

Bell, use of, hung round ram's neck, 18

Blood, significance of fresh-spilt, 75

Bob, the black-and-tan terrier, 55-62

Character, differences of, in animals of one species, 64 ——, human, developed by independence of action, 23

Collie, sheep-killing, 354-356

Dabchick, oar-like wings of, 12

Ducks, wild, at play, 31 ——, ——, wedge-shaped flight of, 32

"Earth," fox's artificial, 194

Fear, how it affects wild creatures, 401

Field-vole, and carrion crow, 165 ——, and fox, 164 ——, and kestrel, 148, 149 ——, and owl, 144, 145, 157, 167, 175 ——, and weasel, 137, 140 ——, avoiding rabbit's "creeps," 160 ——, enemies of, 164 ——, food of, 137, 142, 143, 154, 155 ——, hibernation of, 145, 146, 150 ——, home of, 149 ——, limbs of, cramped by winter sleep, 153 ——, restlessness of, in spring, 157

Field-voles, described, 162 ——, harvesting seeds, 141, 142 ——, plague of, 173, 174 ——, stung to death by adder, 172

Fox, see also Vixen ——, and hedgehog, 382-384 ——, and moorhen, 400 ——, and wasp, 229 ——, avoiding traps, 236 ——, burying rat, 184 ——, careful not to sleep on straight trail, 237 ——, careful not to tread on rustling leaves, 220 ——, entering "breeding-earth" when close pressed, 191 ——, finding hen's nest in hedgerow, 182 ——, fight with rival, 227 ——, hating jays and magpies, 234 ——, knowledge of the countryside, 238, 428 ——, luring rabbits, 403 ——, methods of hunting rabbits, 180 ——, robbed of spoil by vixen, 183 ——, seeks mate, 225 ——, taught by mate, 227

Fox-cub, chased by lurcher, 222 ——, cleanly habits of, 212 ——, described, 203 ——, food of, 218, 235 ——, killing hare, 219 ——, killing polecat, 215, 216 ——, stealing chickens, 24

Fox-cubs and partridges, 211 ——, at play, 412, 422-426 ——, eagerness of, for flesh, 209

Foxes, method of preparing "breeding earth," 232

Fox-hound, "rioting" on cold scent, 189

Fox-hunt, 186-193

Frogs, devoured by otters, 35

Geese, wild, 31

Gipsy, seeking hedgehogs, 387-389

Hare, and renegade cat, 288 ——, and peregrine falcon, 265, 266 ——, and poacher, 276, 285, 286 ——, bravely defends young, 265 ——, covered with fur at birth, 245 ——, dislikes entering damp undergrowth, 274 ——, does not wander far in wet weather, 258 ——, food of, 248, 249, 251, 260 ——, "form" described, 245 ——, killed by lightning, 291 ——, "leaping places" of, 434 ——, method of fighting among males, 264 ——, netted by keeper, 255 ——, productiveness of, probably influenced by food supply, 276 ——, recklessness of, in early spring, 263 ——, running through flock of sheep, 283 ——, suffers from want of exercise, 259 ——, suffers less from frost than from rain, 260 ——, swims across river, 273 ——, winter habits of, 287 ——, withholds scent when hard pressed, 283

Hedgehog, and fox, 382-384 ——, and moorhens, 400, 401, 403-405 ——, and owl, 385 ——, and terrier, 388 ——, food of, 394, 395, 398, 399 ——, haunt of, 377 ——, killing snake, 396, 397 ——, nest of, 379, 389

History, vicissitudes of, affecting wild animals, 329

Hounds, miscellaneous pack, 54, 83

Hunt, rival, 60 ——, village, 77, 78, 83

Huntsman, feeding fox-cubs, 209

Ianto, the fisherman, 28, 30, 83, 429-442

Joker, the bob-tailed sheep-dog, 54, 55, 58-60

Kestrel, attacking field-voles, 148 ——, preying on bank-voles, 147

Man, dreaded by wild animals, 13, 40 ——, senses dulled by immunity from fear, 72

Mange, attacking carnivorous animals, 212

March, great changes to wild life in, 263

Minnows, playing about ledges of rock, 103

Moorhen, eluding terrier, 61 ——, killed by otter, 32

Mouse, singing, 82

Nature, haunted by Fear, 75 ——, spirit of restlessness in, 156

Night, described, 3, 85, 86 ——, spiritual influence of, 85 —— -watching, difficulties of, 427 —— - ——, methods of, 410

Otter, and big trout, 106 ——, and dabchick, 12 ——, and "red" fish, 101 ——, and water-vole, 86-89, 101 ——, fighting terrier, 42 ——, food of, 15, 35, 47, 48 ——, hunting methods of, 20 ——, inhabiting drain-pipe, 9 ——, in winter, 15, 47 ——, migrating to sea, 46 ——, playing in heavy stream, 33, 34 ——, position of, when sleeping, 33 ——, related to weasel, 22 —— -cub, capturing salmon, 22 ——, described, 21 ——, learns to swim, 9 —— -cubs, at play, 11 —— -hounds, 36 —— -hunt, 37-39, 41-44, 84

Owl, brown, described, 385, 386 ——, and fox-cub, 205, 214 ——, and water-vole, 88, 89 ——, attacks hedgehog, 385, 386 ——, preying on field-voles, 157

Owls, as friends of farmer, 169

Owls, inhabiting farm buildings, 7

Philip, the poacher, 429-443

Polecats, enemies of young hedgehogs, 384

Rabbit, burrowing in badgers' "set," 314, 315

Rabbits, clearing tracks, 418

Rat, brown, attacked by water-voles, 123 ——, ——, habits of, 64, 110 —— -hunting, by riverside, 58-60

Rats, migration of, 110

"Redd" of salmon, 99

Salmon, migration of, 95, 96 —— -fishing, experiences in, 26-30 —— -pool, seldom visited, 25 —— -spawn, destroyers of, 99 —— - ——, guarded by salmon, 98, 100, 101

Sheep-dog, and otter, 17

Sorrel, as medicinal herb for wild animals, 335

Sport, winter, 54

Squirrel, harvesting only ripe seeds and nuts, 105 ——, inquisitive, 92

Stoats, following rats in migration, 110

Stone-fly, 20

Teal, 31

Terrier, worsted by otter, 44

Thrush, autumn song of, 24 ——, defending young against hedgehog, 405

Trick, poacher's, to capture hare, 276

Trout, an old, carnivorous, 95 ——, habit of, in spring, 19

Viper, attacked by hedgehog, 397 ——, enemy of young hedgehogs, 398

Vixen, dispossessing another of "breeding earth," 201 ——, life spared by hounds, 219 ——, routing terrier from "breeding earth," 191

Vixen-cubs, quicker to learn than fox-cubs, 210

Voles, see Bank-voles, Field-voles, Water-voles

Water-shrew, described, 93 ——, food of, 93, 94, 106, 107 ——, habits of, 93, 94

Water-vole, and otter, 86-89 ——, and owl, 89, 118 ——, and trout, 94, 125 ——, as singer, 79-82, 89 ——, constructing nest, 121, 122 ——, described, 121 ——, enemies of, 79 ——, food of, 71, 105, 106 ——, habits studied, 80 ——, home of, 68, 69, 103, 109, 110, 117, 126 ——, love episodes of, 117-120 ——, methods of fighting, 119, 123 ——, winter storehouse of, 105, 109, 126

Water-voles, attacking brown rat, 123

Weasel, ferocity of, 76 ——, food for fox-cub, 213

Weasels, following rats in migration, 110

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THE END