Summer 



one poor hole,' and so he helps the keeper to an 

 opportunity of knocking him on the head. Other 

 creatures climb over, and amongst the worst of these 

 are the common cat (when it has forsaken civilisation 

 and the tiles for savagery and the woods), and the 

 stoat, which seems able to climb anything, and whose 

 custom is to leap on the rabbit's back, fasten his teeth 

 in his neck, and ride him till he drops dead. One 

 night I saw a fox clamber up the bole of a tree and 

 leap into the warren. But it is easy to make the fence 

 a snare to all these ruffians. If a breadth of wire is 

 run along the top of it drooping inwards at an angle 

 of something over forty-five degrees (like the eaves 

 of a house) it foils the most agile. Even the squirrel 

 breaks his heart in a vain endeavour to get away ; he 

 climbs up the fence, but is beaten when he finds him- 

 self cornered at the top. In the end, however, every- 

 thing depends on the warrener. Unless he is quick 

 to detect their presence and vigilant to slay, the car- 

 nivora, winged and footed, will make the warren their 

 home. For the benefit of human poachers it is well 

 to have the fence well roughened with spikes. That 

 will not prevent them from getting in ; but if (it is 

 pleasant to know) they are startled at their work and 

 make a hurried attempt to get out, they can only 

 succeed at the cost of lacerated hands and ruined 

 clothes. Where the proprietor is not constantly resi- 

 dent, however, it occasionally happens that systematic 

 robbery is carried on by the warrener. 



