52 UNDER GREEN LEAVES 
flats, and feed in such spots more than on higher 
ground. 
Just as we are about to descend the hill there is 
a commotion in the rush clumps, and a bird tumbles 
out which we at first sight take for a wild duck with 
its wing broken ; but the cry quickly sets us right. 
It is a grey hen a mother for we can see some of 
her poults dash to cover, the mother with them. 
After that all is still ; not a sound or a cheep to be 
heard. 
Looking over the bog, something on that dead 
alder catches our eyes ; it is a hen sparrowhawk, 
sitting as motionless as the tree itself. Sitting there, 
as upright as a drill sergeant, she might easily be 
mistaken for a part of the grey trunk. She has missed 
her quarry ; so much the better. The first movement 
on our part, as we wish to descend, is enough ; and 
with a flirt of her broad tail she is up and away. 
Not for long will she have the pleasure of providing 
for her young hopefuls, now of some size, for her 
domicile is known to our friend. She has had some 
of his young guinea-fowls, cute as they were ; and 
for that he told us he would knock her out of it, and 
the young ones too. 
From the bog the water has cut a natural course 
for itself through the wood ; and, as it is all down 
