A Sabbath in the Open 23 



until he gets well out of gunshot, then he tells 

 all the other fellows that in such and such a glen 

 or wood their arch-enemy has a posted sentinel. 

 We hear him, far overhead, screaming, &quot; Don t 

 go there ! &quot; His first cousin, the dandy bluejay, 

 has no such timidity : indeed it is scorn this gay, 

 skyey-tinted predatory rascal expresses as he 

 swings down close overhead of the intruding 

 human being. All the birds have their opinion 

 of men. There is the ruffed grouse, which we 

 call the partridge,- hen and cock are so distrust 

 ful that they are up and away before we know 

 where they be. All these one may espy in a 

 March ramble, if circumstances favour, and might 

 be wholly happy in espying them were it not for 

 the knowledge that there are guns. Traces, too, 

 of other birds may be detected, as when in a wood 

 of yellow pines, the ground beneath is littered 

 with the eviscerated shells of the cones, on whose 

 seeds the Canadian crossbills have been feeding, 

 and no doubt some bluejays also. 



The tracks in the forest snows are eloquent of 

 life, as silence is eloquent in this secret manner. 

 When, traversing the snowy woods, one finds a 

 convergence of fox and dog tracks to some cav 

 ernous ledge, which shows that there has been 

 many a chase that ended at that refuge, he readily 

 imagines the shrewd joy of Master Reynard in 



