214 WILD LIFE IN HAKD WEATHER 



The redwings and fieldfares, our typical winter 

 visitors from northern climes, are less shy than 

 they were a month ago, and even a few of these 

 have taken to the woods. As I pass along the 

 hard, dry road at the bottom of the dingle, on 

 which the slanting sun rarely throws a single 

 yellow beam, I see above me, where the sunlight 

 is breaking between the interlaced boughs on 

 the crisp carpet of oak leaves, a redwing busily 

 engaged, pecking at the withered heaps, scatter- 

 ing them, and seeking diligently and ravenously 

 for a few morsels of food beneath. The bird 

 scarcely heeds my approach, though the icy 

 road rings with the clatter of my well-shod feet. 

 When, an hour later, I return along the same 

 path, the redwing is still among the oak leaves, 

 but so weak from hunger and cold that I almost 

 succeed in capturing him. Desirous of knowing 

 a little more about the bird, I chase him up the 

 slope, but he finally eludes me by scrambling 

 through a clump of brambles, and I continue my 

 walk, satisfied that the unwonted exercise and 

 fright probably brought to the poor sufferer 

 more good than harm. I have read of a be- 

 numbed traveller desiring to sink into slumber, 

 and of his companions keeping him from the 

 fulfilment of his fatal desire; perhaps the red- 

 wing, but for me, would presently have slept 

 beyond awakening. 



