142 BIRDS IN TOWN AND VILLAGE 



touch of something that numbs the nerves — 

 merely the prick of a needle. In whatever way 

 the animal perishes, whether by violence, or ex- 

 cessive cold, or decay, his death is a comparatively 

 easy one. So long as he is fighting with or strug- 

 gling to escape from an enemy, wounds are not 

 felt as wounds, and scarcely hurt him — as we 

 know from our own experience; and when over- 

 come, if death be not practically instantaneous, 

 as in the case of a small bird seized by a cat, the 

 disabling grip or blow is itself a kind of anodyne, 

 producing insensibility to pain. This, too, is a 

 matter of human experience. To say nothing of 

 those who fall in battle, men have often been 

 struck down and fearfully lacerated by lions, 

 tigers, jaguars, and other savage beasts; and after 

 having been rescued by their companions, have 

 recounted this strange thing. Even when there 

 was no loss of consciousness, when they saw and 

 knew that the animal was rending their flesh, they 

 seemed not to feel it, and were, at the time, in- 

 different to the fate that had overtaken them. 



It is the same in death from cold. The strong, 

 well-nourished man, overtaken by a snowstorm 

 on some pathless, uninhabited waste, may expe- 



