434 A FARMER'S YEAR 



or the sound of a squirrel, which is still abroad in this warm 

 season running over the dead leaves, or scampering up the trunk 

 of an oak-tree with an acorn in its mouth. Presently, however, 

 from far away the keeper's voice can be heard in the still air 

 asking the beaters if they are all ready, followed by the answering 

 1 Ayes ' of the men and a faint rattling of sticks. 



A swift-winged wood pigeon passes high over head, quite out 

 of shot indeed ; then there is a rustling sound amongst the sere 

 twigs and mosses, and the watcher, if he be quick-eyed, may catch 

 sight of something brown moving to and fro in front of him. 

 What it is he cannot see, for the creature keeps itself hidden 

 behind the brown hazel-stubs or the grey-green growths of ash, 

 but he knows from the motion, which seems to rise and fall, 

 and also from the sound of the disturbed leaves, that it is not 

 a bird. 



The thing vanishes, then appears again, and at last comes for- 

 ward more boldly, and shows itself to be a hare. Catching sight of 

 its arch-enemy, man, who cuts it off from the retreat which it was 

 seeking, it stops suddenly, and perhaps sits up as though it were 

 begging for its life, its beautiful soft eyes fixed upon that dread 

 and unexpected vision. Then probably the man, following his 

 instincts, lifts the gun and shoots it, turning its happy breath, 

 perfect shape and smooth fur into a screaming, kicking, gory heap, 

 for that is what man gentle, beneficent man is out to do. Or 

 perhaps he does not shoot, from compunction or because he 

 thinks the game too near, whereon, taking fright, the hare wheels 

 round and dashes off at speed, trying the boundaries of the beat 

 here and there, till at length, let us hope, it finds a place where 

 it can creep through unobserved, and, unmaimed by shot, speed 

 away, safe until another season. 



Next there comes a quicker pattering among the dead sticks 

 and foliage, and another brown thing runs up and crouches, 

 vanishing altogether except for a bright and beady eye. This 

 is a hen pheasant, that presently rises and flies away, but so 

 low that even the youngest or most ardent sportsman dare not 



