108 MY LIFE AS A NATURALIST 



two-thirds grown, were roosting in hazel bushes near by. In 

 fifteen minutes the lust for spilling blood was so great that 

 thirty-six Pheasants were killed by this one Fox, evidence, of 

 itself, that much more food is killed than can possibly be 

 eaten. 



I have stalked the Red Deer in the Scotch Highlands with 

 feverish excitement, and tramped weary, but never-to-be-forgotten, 

 miles over moors of Heather and Bilberry, for even a distant sight 

 of this chieftain of the wilds. I have seen small herds of Red 

 Deer in the bonnie Island of Arran, set like a jewel amidst the 



FIG. 47. KED DEER. 



gleaming waters of the Clyde, and among the everlasting hills 

 and mountains I have passed many pleasant hours in company 

 with a kindred spirit, studying the fauna and flora of the granite 

 region of frowning Goatfell, and its surrounding mountain ridges. 



A whole day thus spent has brought sly peeps at the handsome 

 creature here depicted, and my Highland memories have been 

 refreshed when, at home in Hertfordshire, I have watched the 

 large herds of Red Deer at Ashridge, the seat of Earl Brownlow, 

 or at Woburn, in Bedfordshire, where the Duke of Bedford has 

 introduced this and many other breeds of noble beasts. 



But it is among the hills, and the solitude of the glens of the 

 far North, that this animal is seen in its wild fastnesses. It is 

 associated in one's mind with the majestic sweep of the Golden 

 Eagle, the eerie cry of the Curlew, the cackle of Grouse, and the 

 tinkling song of the Meadow Pipit. Its haunt brings back to 



