WOODLANDS 3 



passes under a tree a chaffinch swoops down and snaps 

 at it, but rises again without doing apparent injury, for 

 the butterfly continues its flight. 



From an oak overhead comes the sweet slender 

 voice of a linnet, the sunshine falling on his rosy 

 breast. The gateways show the thickness of the 

 hedge, as an embrasure shows the thickness of a wall. 

 One gives entrance to an arable field which has been 

 recently rolled, and along the gentle rise of a " land " 

 a cock-pheasant walks, so near that the ring about 

 his neck is visible. Presently, becoming conscious 

 that he is observed, he goes down into a furrow, and 

 is then hidden. 



The next gateway, equally deep-set between the 

 bushes, opens on a pasture, where the docks of last 

 year still cumber the ground, and bunches of rough 

 grass and rushes are scattered here and there. A 

 partridge separated from his mate is caljing across 

 the field, and comes running over the short sward as 

 his companion answers. With his neck held high 

 and upright, stretched to see around, he looks larger 

 than would be supposed, as he runs swiftly, threading 

 his way through the tufts, the docks, and the rushes. 

 But suddenly noticing that the gateway is not clear, 

 he crouches, and is concealed by the grass. 



Some distance farther there is a stile, sitting upon 

 which the view ranges over two adjacent meadows. 

 They are bounded by a copse of ash stoles and young 

 oak trees, and the lesser of the meads is full of rush 

 bunches and dotted with green ant-hills. Among 

 these, just beyond gunshot, two rabbits are feeding ; 

 pausing and nibbling till they have eaten the tenderest 

 blades, and then leisurely hopping a yard or so to 

 another spot. Later on in the summer this little 



