SHARP EYES. 17 
see the bird and shoot it before it takes wing. I 
think he sees it as soon as it sees him, and before 
it suspects itself seen. What a training to the eye 
is hunting! To pick out the game from its surround- 
ings, the grouse from the leaves, the gray squirrel from 
the mossy oak limb it hugs so closely, the red fox 
from the ruddy or brown or gray field, the rabbit from 
the stubble, or the white hare from the snow, requires 
the best powers of this sense. A woodchuck, motion- 
less in the fields or upon a rock, looks very much like 
a large stone or bowlder, yet a keen eye knows the 
difference at a glance, a quarter of a mile away. 
A man has a sharper eye than a dog, or a fox, or 
than any of the wild creatures, but not so sharp an ear 
or nose. But in the birds he finds his match. How 
quickly the old turkey discovers the hawk, a mere 
speck against the sky, and how quickly the hawk dis- 
covers you if you happen to be secreted in the bushes, 
or behind the fence near which he alights! One ad- 
vantage the bird surely has, and that is, owing to the 
form, structure, and position of the eye, it has a much 
larger field of vision — indeed, can probably see in 
nearly every direction at the same instant, behind as 
well as before. Man’s field of vision embraces less 
than half a circle horizontally, and still less vertically ; 
his brow and brain prevent him from seeing within 
many degrees of the zenith without a movement of the 
‘head; the bird, on the other hand, takes in nearly the 
whole sphere at a glance. 
I find I see, almost without effort, nearly every bird 
within sight in the field or wood I pass through (a flit 
of the wing, a flirt of the tail are enough, though the 
flickering leaves do all conspire to hide them), and 
that with like ease the birds see me, though, un- 
