208 HAPS IN THE FIELD 



particular nook as well. Among the rest a 

 small party, perhaps half a dozen, young cat- 

 tle, "yearlings," as they were called. They 

 had a wide expanse of woods and clearings 

 over which to roam, but their invariable 

 choice was an open spot across the brook 

 from my seat. Here they would sometimes 

 lie, staring at me and chewing gum with 

 the enthusiasm of a backwoods school-girl, 

 and sometimes stand about in a waiting 

 attitude, doing nothing in particular. If 

 I moved, their ears pricked up, and when I 

 rose, they turned as one beast and fled in a 

 panic, burying themselves in the deepest 

 woods. This would be funny if it were not 

 somewhat mortifying to find oneself a buga- 

 boo to creatures so domesticated as barnyard 

 cattle. 



The movement that had so alarmed the 

 beasts was to see who was stirring the ferns 

 across the brook. As I approached, a pair 

 of juncoes flew up with easy, loitering flight. 

 Surely, I thought, their nest must be there, 

 and I sought carefully among the ferns which 

 grew up around an old log, but no nest was 

 there. 



