IN THE RAIN 147 



Our civilization has dealt with all these so 

 successfully that we are apt to think of them 

 as docile servants, or perhaps as petty annoy 

 ances, and we lose the sense of their power 

 unless we deliberately go out to meet them in 

 their own domain and let them have their 

 way with us. Then, indeed, they sweep us 

 out of ourselves for a season, and that is 

 good. 



We came out from the thickets on a high, 

 brushy field, sheeted in fine rain that dimmed 

 even the near wood edges. Blackberries grew 

 thick, and we made our way carefully among 

 the briers, following the narrow and devious 

 cow-paths. Suddenly we both stopped. Just 

 ahead of us, under a blackberry bush, was a 

 huge snapping-turtle. He was standing on his 

 hind legs, with his fore legs resting on a 

 branch loaded with fruit, his narrow dark 

 head stretched far up and out, while he 

 quietly ate berry after berry. He was a hand 

 some fellow, with his big black shell all bril 

 liant in the wetness of the rain. As he worked 

 we could see his under side, and notice how it 

 shaded to yellow along the sutures. It was a 

 scene of contentment, and the berries, drip- 



