150 THE RING OF NATURE 



Feeling that this common bat must be about, 

 I draw beneath an ash that is still a little sparse of 

 leaf. He and they are there, not merely catching 

 their food on the wing, but snatching it from the 

 leaves or beating it out and catching it as it is 

 flushed. I can see the whole familiar fairy-tale 

 silhouette, the big ears seeming to twitch with 

 excitement as the animal dashes on something 

 whose shell I can hear cracking in its jaws. 



Down by the lake I look for Daubenton's bat 

 or the water bat, skimming the water in clever 

 circles, real night-swallows, as any insect that 

 knew them both would acknowledge. Sometimes 

 the clumsy desultory little barbastelle, flying like 

 one that has had too much to drink, joins the 

 pipistrelle at its work among the trees, where 

 also can be seen the whiskered bat, the most 

 arboreal of them all, fetching the moths out from 

 their cover almost as the spaniel fetches a rabbit 

 from a bush, or skimming within an inch or so 

 of the ground as it searches perhaps for female 

 ghost moths. There are many others and perhaps 

 one or two more for the keen night naturalist to 

 discover beyond the fifteen or so that are already 

 known in our islands. 



And here comes old flower-face, the tawny owl, 

 ' sweeping wavy in the dusk lit by one large 

 star.' Dear, soft, cuddlesome, sharp-clawed and 

 sharper-beaked flower-face, let us have your 

 story as it is told in the Mabinogion. 



Arionrod laid a * destiny ' upon her son Llew 



