138 



SUMMER 



has accorded. He writes of 'sweet heaps of fresh-cut 

 grass ' as well as of ' scent of hay new mown.' 



We see a new expression on the face of the country 

 when the hay is cut, but the change is a revolution to the 

 hordes of live things that have made the roots of the grasses 

 their home. If you use the scythe or follow the cutter you 

 will see rise along the swath a perfect cascade of flies and 

 moths. They shoot up into the air in alarm, but fall back 

 quickly as if to examine the extent of the damage. They 

 fall back and disappear wonderfully. You would think that 



their homes were quite ruined ; but however close the blade 

 cuts in the hay-field there are left hills and hollows, pillars 

 and caves, big enough to make a world for much grander 

 creatures than these hosts of lepidoptera. But they are now 

 more vulnerable. Not seldom the wagtails discover the reaper 

 as the gulls discover the ploughs in autumn. You may see 

 one or two of them following behind, and dancing up and 

 down in the air, as if they were glass balls on the fountain of 

 little wings. They turn and twist and poise with more than 

 flycatcher skill, and seem a different bird from that which we 

 watch daily on the smooth lawn. Behind the mower they 

 do on the wing what on the lawn they do on their legs. The 



