STRIX FLAMMEA 



" WHERE man goes nature ends," wrote 

 Richard Jefferies. But the wild creatures 

 cling to their ancient places with stubborn- 

 ness, especially in and around London. 



One day in summer, intolerably weary, 

 I left Fleet Street very late or very early. 

 The morning star, Eosphoros the Light- 

 bringer, was sweeping above the eastern 

 line of buildings, the spectral dawn flooding 

 into the concave dusk above. Pausing by 

 the Temple Gardens near the Embankment 

 I became aware of glints of sound from 

 the lawns and under the trees, the cries 

 of questing mice. Then something indis- 

 tinctly white and with great winnowing 

 wings went over, fluttered vaguely to the 

 grass, rose again, and drifted away. Strix 

 Flammea was in London, hunting in the 



very heart of its turmoil. My fatigue passed, 

 243 



