56 Idylls of the Field, 



grow conscious of the presence near you of a score of 

 shy companions who, when you are still, will pursue 

 without fear their various avocations. 



Faint rustling sounds among the bushes betray the 

 movements of some mouse or lizard. 



There are dormice here — Seven Sleepers the villagers 

 call them — but they are hardly awake so early as this. 



Yonder a tiny sun beetle in glittering armour 

 hurries across a patch of sandy soil. 



Another beetle, wheeling past like a sleepy blue- 

 bottle fly, settles down within reach of your hand. 

 Look away for a moment and you will find it hard to 

 see him again, so well does his green coat fit in with 

 the tint of the surrounding leaves. It is not easy to 

 catch him, he is quick in his movements and prompt 

 to take wing, and when he is caught he may give you 

 a smart nip with his strong jaws that will make you 

 think ' tiger-beetle ' no bad name for him. He is a 

 cannibal too, and should you be so rash as to imprison 

 two together, you will be reminded, when you open 

 the box, of the fate of the Kilkenny cats. 



Now you hear among the grass the faint cry of a 

 shrew, perhaps even see the timid little creature that 

 vanishes at your slightest movement. 



That prolonged rustle is perhaps a grass snake 

 gliding away among the thickets. 



A very real touch of spring-time is the butterfly 

 that is flitting here and there among the bushes, his 

 yellow wings just matching the colour of the daffodils. 



