UNDER GREEN LEAVES 43 
farms that we pass on our way are still quiet ; with 
the exception of the carter and his mate, who are 
going to the stables, no one is moving. Not a rooster 
crows ; it may be that the birds know that the fox is 
about : birds do know when it will suit their purpose 
to keep quiet. How often have I wished that there 
was a chance of a fox coming near our house just to 
frighten those many roosters into silence that, through 
moonlight nights, will crow by turns almost without in- 
termission. It is all very well for poets to write about 
'Chanticleer, bright herald of the morning.' This 
lively fowl has been rather a favourite with our verse 
makers, especially the more moral of them. I fancy 
they have been mostly familiar with the common 
barn-door bird, which simply crows ; they cannot have 
suffered from the roaring of the Cochin China fowl, 
which after so-called judicious crossings a fatal 
blunder has become such a favourite on the outskirts 
of country towns. Owls never make night hideous 
as do these giant roosters ; I have found two or three 
of them, in concert with a donkey that grazes near my 
dwelling, more than a poor tired naturalist could bear 
after a long day's work. 
But here all is quiet ; the creatures that were at 
large during the night have gone home, or most of 
them. Two downy forms float by me and shoot under 
