

AMONG THE HILLS. 



your head, I mean. They can be found like that 

 in places now few and far between, I am sorry to say, 

 for the forest-fires have made havoc with those sanc- 

 tuaries for bird and beast and insect. To explore a 

 little, put on a pair of leather gloves and gaiters, 

 and crawl in. You will find it warm. The furze 

 needles that have been dropping for who knows how 

 many years form a soft carpet. Dig down with your 

 fingers, and you are surprised at the depth of decayed 

 needles, also at the animal life. Insects of innumer- 

 able kinds hide and live in the fallen matter. When 

 the weather would kill them outside, they find com- 

 fort and plenty there. Great humble-bees lie-up in 

 the dry needles for the winter, and other things not 

 quite so harmless. 



You will find all the insect - eating birds that 

 remain with us through the winter, if it is a severe 

 one, in and a-bout one of those old-time furze brakes, 

 with very few exceptions. 



Right in front of me, as I ramble on, are the 

 beech -woods. Other trees grow there; a fringe of 

 hazel-bushes runs in broken clumps just on the top 

 of a splashed bank. That is the term for a rough 

 wall composed of turf and stones, thrown up, years 



