BIRDS IN A VILLAGE 119 



there, about three yards from my feet, as if noth- 

 ing had happened — as If not a ripple had troubled 

 the quiet surface of her life 1 The serenity of 

 the bird, just out of that storm of violence and 

 danger, and her perfect indifference to my 

 presence, was astonishing to me. For a minute 

 or two I stood still watching her; then turned to 

 walk back to the cottage, and no sooner did I start 

 than after me she came at a gentle trot, follow- 

 ing me like a dog. On my way back I came to 

 the very spot where the fox-terrier had found and 

 attacked the bird, and at once on reaching it she 

 came to a stop and uttered a call, and instantly 

 from eight different places among the tall grasses 

 the eight fluffy little chicks popped up and started 

 running to her. And there she stood, gathering 

 them about her with gentle chucklings, taking no 

 notice of me, though I was standing still within 

 two yards of her! 



Up to the moment when the dog got his smart 

 blow and fled from her she had been under the 

 domination of a powerful instinct, and could have 

 acted in no other way; but what guided her so in- 

 fallibly in her subsequent actions? Certainly not 

 instinct, and not reason, which hesitates between 



