WINTER 263 



Teal dislike extreme cold, and are rarely seen ; but the 

 tufted duck I have shot in the worst of winters, though 

 always inland, never on the tide. The heron and jack- 

 snipe agree in few respects ; but both are characteristic 

 of severe weather — the heron on the larger burns, the 

 jack on the tiniest little open rills. 



Now, we leave the burn and take the hill. The ascent 

 in deep snow at the best involves the hardest of work, 

 but beyond all that, a 6-foot "wreath" will definitely stop 

 the longest-legged ; while a steep-sided burn, blown up 

 level, is more impassable than a crevass. One may know 

 the ground to an inch, yet such obstacles cannot be wholly 

 avoided, and with two or three such delays the short 

 December day is far spent ; and we must wrothly defer 

 our scramble on the "high tops" till the morrow. 



When, at length, one reaches the fell-ridge, it might be 

 thought an easy matter to find the grouse on the open 

 snow, where the smallest object shows up bold and big, 

 and often magnified by the rarification of frost-dried air 

 till a snow-bunting looms as large as a blackcock. Yet 

 one scans for miles that wide expanse of glistening snow, 

 till eyes ache with the brilliant monotony of its millions of 

 sparkling crystals — but not a single bird is there. The 

 grouse, as a matter of fact, are all deep-buried beneath 

 the snow. This one presently discovers, on coming across 

 a perfect network of burrows — most nearly resembling a 

 rabbit-warren. You may have seen afar — or you may 

 not — just the head of one grouse, the sentry on guard. 

 Quite as often, this precaution is neglected and a whole 

 pack will be asleep in their burrows, secured, they imagine, 

 by the miles of snow-fastnesses that surround them. 



The site usually selected for these burrows is on some 

 steep slope ; but always where the heather is old and 



