My New Zealand Garden 79 



at each other through it, which acts as an incen- 

 tive to begin in earnest. Then comes the destruc- 

 tive stage when they lie down and kick, and the 

 poor plant is shattered ; only a storm in a teapot 

 to a disinterested looker-on, but there flashes 

 through me an unhallowed twinge, scarcely re- 

 pressible, whilst the cats scamper with lightning 

 speed. Now some of my best plants have to 

 wear a piece of wire-netting round them. It is 

 an eyesore, but it is better to be sure than sorry, 

 and it keeps off any stray hare who occasionally 

 looks round to see what tit-bits he can find. 



There is some protection round almost all the 

 garden, but one evening a hare came in through 

 the gate who evidently was not well up in the 

 surroundings; for, getting frightened, he made a 

 dash to the opposite side, but finding wooden 

 palings there, he made one final, fatal dash in 

 another direction into some wire-netting, which 

 checkmated him, and resulted in his breaking his 

 neck. Animals have self-preservation implanted 

 in them so strongly that sometimes, I hope, they 

 appear to suffer more than they really do. A pig 

 makes more noise when he is caught than when 

 the knife is in such close proximity to his jugular 

 artery that he must be aware the operation has 

 commenced. I have seen this illustrated from 

 the nursery windows. I am afraid I resembled 

 the little girl who, being asked if she had enjoyed 



