455 FIELD SCRAPS. 



his presence. The smaller animals in particular, when they observe a. 

 person silent and motionless, seem to regard him with as little indiffer- 

 ence as they do the stump of an old oak, and this is particularly the 

 case in secluded places, seldom visited by man, the terror of the brute 

 creation. I have had many instances to confirm me in the truth of these 

 remarks, besides the one I now note. The other day I stood for many 

 minutes down at Laytonstone, vis-a-vis to a rat, who, in a ditch about 

 five yards from me, washed his face, as leisurely as though no curious 

 naturalist were by. On my first approach he was startled, but as soon 

 as I drew myself up and continued silent and motionless, his fears were 

 subdued, but he was off and down his hole with quick speed, directly 

 that I moved to leave the spot. 



On Hampstead Heath, about three weeks ago, upon looking into a 

 gravel-pit, I was somewhat surprised to observe a toad and a shrew 

 mouse both peeping out from the same hole, which was so small that 

 the former, whose body was much compressed, seemed greatly inconve- 

 nienced. So squeezed indeed were they for room, that the mouse 

 could not, without some difficulty, enter his dwelling by forcing a 

 passage between his singular companion and the sides of the door-way. 

 The mouse having got out of his dwelling, I jumped down into the pit and 

 caught hold of him, in doing which I unintentionally killed him. Upon 

 turning round to see whether his fellow-lodger had decamped, I found 

 him in the same situation as before, his head and shoulders poked out 

 of the hole, and his eyes directed upwards to the sky, as though he 

 were Sir Isaac Newton himself, studying the stars. Having removed 

 away the hard sand that imprisoned him, he crawled out, but his move- 

 ments betokened that his legs, from long inactivity, had become nearly 

 unable to perform their offices. 



Squirrels, though common in Kensington Gardens, are not generally 

 to be seen within any short distance of London ; I saw one, however, 

 last Friday, running down a lane near Belsize House, Hampstead. 



Ducks, and other web-footed birds, usually rest upon the ground, 

 but a remarkable exception to this is known to occur in the summer- 

 duck or tree-duck (Anus sponso) of America, which perches upon trees, 

 like a sparrow ; but a friend to whom I mentioned this fact, assures 

 me that his father had some Muscovy ducks (Anas moschala) which 

 frequently perched upon the branches of the trees, upon which they 

 also roosted during the night. When we consider the aquatic habits of 

 ducks, it appears rather singular that they should die merely from 

 staying in the water rather longer than usual, but this however has 



