288 MEMOIR OF 



the ' bay,' confesses he is but a fool when his 

 wits are pitted against those of a deer driven 

 to its last shifts." 



But, however marvellous may be the shifts 

 of a deer to save its own life, the animal is 

 equally adroit in saving that of its young. " I 

 have heard Russell relate," says an old friend, 

 '* that on one occasion he witnessed a curious 

 manoeuvre on the part of a hind, which, with 

 true maternal care, successfully managed to 

 conceal and protect her calf, when pursued 

 by hounds. But let him tell his own tale. 

 'We had been driving,' said he, 'for some 

 time in cover what all supposed to be a barren 

 hind ; when, just in front of me, at the head 

 of the combe, out came a hind and her little 

 calf breaking away together over the open 

 moor. After travelling for some distance side 

 by side, I observed their pace slacken, as the 

 young one appeared to be flagging and unable 

 to hold on with her dam. The hounds were 

 now gaining rapidly on them, when I said to 

 Stucley Lucas, " They'll kill that poor calf to a 

 certainty." "No they won't," he replied; "she'll 

 kick it down." In another instant, on passing 

 over some furzy ground, I distinctly saw the 

 hind give the calf a sharp kick with her heel, 

 and down went the little one as if she were 

 shot with a gun. It was the signal for her to 

 keep close — a signal no sooner given than 



