Badgers and Otters. 39 



and finally that last far-off song has ceased. 

 Silence an intense holy calm is over the 

 woods. Chill comes, the dew rises, and twilight ; 

 and the night side of nature. How rich and 

 varied is that of the stream side ! The fern-owls 

 with their soft plumage and noiseless flight come 

 out, as do the great moths and bustards. 



This prevalence of life at the same time is as 

 Nature would have it the one acting as food for 

 the other. The beat of unseen pinions is heard 

 above, but no object visible some night- 

 haunting bird flying off to its feeding ground. 

 Through the short night summer snipe whistle 

 and wail. Newly-arrived crakes call from the 

 meadows, and a disturbed lapwing gets up 

 crying from the green cornstalks. Maybe the 

 disturber was the hare whose almost human cry 

 now comes from the thorn fence. For it the 

 corn sprouts have come for the last time, and 

 soon it will be in the poacher's wallet. A loud 

 splash comes from the water, and a great black 

 trout has sucked down its prey. This is a large- 

 winged night-fly. That first splash is a token of 

 more abundant night food, and soon the reach 

 boils. Every speckled trout is " on its feed." 

 How we long for the pliant, sympathetic rod ! 

 Then, ye lusty trout, how would the undefinable 

 thrill rush at intervals up our arm ! But our 

 mission to-night is not this. The herons scream, 

 the wood-owls hoot, and what is that other 



