The Open Air 



noticing that I was looking in that direction, it 

 cautiously raised itself a little, and I saw at once that 

 the eye was the eye of a bird. This I knew first by 

 its size, and next by its position in relation to the 

 head, which was invisible for had it been a rabbit 

 or hare, its ears would have projected. The moment 

 after, the eye itself confirmed this the nictitating 

 membrane was rapidly drawn over it, and as rapidly 

 removed. This membrane is the distinguishing mark 

 of a bird's eye. But what bird? Although I was 

 within two yards, I could not even see its head, 

 nothing but the glittering eyeball, on which the light 

 of the sun glinted. The sunbeams came over my 

 shoulder straight into the bird's face. 



Without moving which I did not wish to do, as it 

 would disturb the bird I could not see its plumage; 

 the bramble spray in front, the spurge behind, and 

 the bleached grasses at the side, perfectly concealed 

 it. Only two birds I considered would be likely to 

 squat and remain quiescent like this partridge or 

 pheasant ; but I could not contrive to view the least 

 portion of the neck. A moment afterwards the eye 

 came up again, and the bird slightly moved its head, 

 when I saw its beak, and knew it was a pheasant 

 immediately. I then stepped forward almost on 

 the bird and a young pheasant rose, and flew 

 between the tree-trunks to a deep dry watercourse, 

 where it disappeared under some withering yellow 

 ferns. 



Of course I could easily have solved the problem 

 long before, merely by startling the bird; but what 

 would have been the pleasure of that ? Any plough- 

 lad could have forced the bird to rise, and would have 

 recognised it as a pheasant; to me, the pleasure 

 consisted in discovering it under every difficulty. 



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