

wounds. Twenty years ago, while sitting 

 quietly by a brook at the edge of the woods 

 in Bridgewater, a woodcock suddenly fluttered 

 open and made his way to a spot 

 on the bank where a light streak of sticky 

 mud and clay showed clearly from where I 

 was watching. It was the early hunting sea- 

 son and gunners were abroad in the land, 

 and my first impression was that this was a 

 wounded bird that had made a long flight 

 after being shot, and that had now come 

 out to the stream to drink or to 

 bathe his wound. Whether this 

 were so or not is a matter of guess- 

 work; but the bird was acting 

 strangely in broad daylight, and 

 I crept nearer till I could see him 

 plainly on the other side of the 

 little stream, though he was still 



foWtt'WIIil W'h 



