at the back of her head that was the first 



59 

 observation. Some wandering horse had put 



his hoof down and made a hollow in the 

 dry rotten wood of the fallen stub. Into 

 this hollow a few leaves and brown grass 

 stems had been gathered, a careless kind 

 of nest, yet serving its purpose wonderfully, 

 for it hid the brooding mother so well that 

 one might step on her without ever knowing 

 that bird or nest was near. This was the 

 second wondering observation, as I made out 

 the soft outlines of the bird sitting there, 

 apparently without a thought of fear, within 

 ten feet of my face. 



I went away quietly that day and left her 

 undisturbed; and I remember perfectly that 

 I took with me something of the wonder, 

 and something too of the fear, with which a 

 child naturally meets the wild things for the 

 first time. That she should be so still and 

 fearless before me was a perfect argument to 

 a child that she had some hidden means of 

 defense the long bill, perhaps, or a hidden 

 sting with which it was not well to trifle. 

 All that seems very strange and far away to 



