Footprints on the Sand. 101 



love the hot sun that beats into the hollow. Grass- 

 snakes warm their cold hearts upon the heated sand. 



A stoat peers out from a heap of stone, his head 

 and fore-paws just visible over the edge of a rock. 

 After a brief inspection he seems to think it best to 

 avoid us ; he drops down and disappears. 



Here are the traces of the sheldrake a few white 

 feathers, tinged with brown, scattered on the grass at 

 the entrance of one of the many rabbit-holes which 

 here honeycomb the hill. Far inside the burrow the 

 empty eggshells still lie about the disordered nest. 



Long ere this the brood stole out into the daylight, 

 and made their way down the rocks into the sea. 

 Sometimes, in the early morning, you may meet them 

 on the river. The old bird leads the way, the downy 

 brood all in line after their anxious parent. At the 

 sound of oars she turns her head a moment, and then 

 quickens her pace. At her signal the little fellows in 

 her wake hurry after her as best they may. The old 

 bird at last reluctantly takes wing. Her brood hasten 

 this way and that, dodging the oar-blades put out to 

 stop them, and scudding along with quick beats of 

 their little paddles. Some scramble up the bank. 

 Others swim out to sea down the rapid current. 



The rocky side of the down is a favourite haunt of 

 the kestrel. Even the peregrine lingers here, and his 

 keen wings are still the terror of the farm under the 

 hill. More satisfactory tenants are the daws who 

 crowd about the cliff-ledges and build their nests by 



