BIRDS IN THE FROST FOG 197 



tops are all smoke and darkness. It is like the atmo- 

 sphere before Ovid's cave of sleep 



" Nebulae caligine mixtse 

 Exhalantur humo, dubiaeque crepuscula lucis." 



Cobbett calls these fogs " dry clouds." But they are 

 not always dry ; oftener they condense on vegetation, 

 and make everything dripping wet. Their area is very 

 capricious. For many days in January, 1888, the vales 

 were filled with dusky rolling vapour, rising to a level 

 of 700 ft., while the hill-tops were in bright sunlight. 

 Yet the larks and starlings and wood-pigeons dare not 

 venture through the fog in search of the bright weather 

 above it. The vapour condensed on green wood, but 

 not on dead, and the woodlands were dripping and 

 uncomfortable. The wood-pigeons were afraid to 

 venture from the plantations, and remained in them all 

 day, drowsy and stupid ; and pheasants, which run in 

 search of their food, and so feel no danger of being 

 lost, did, in fact, wander away for miles, and scattered 

 from their head-quarters in the preserves all over the 

 country. On the downs, when a sudden drop of 

 temperature covered the hill also with fog, and turned 

 the water-drops on the trees into crystal tears, the birds 

 all retired to the copses of beech and spruce-fir, and if 

 disturbed, would flap on in scores for a short distance, 

 or wheel back into the copse behind the intruder, not 

 daring to leave the trees for the murky darkness of the 

 fog. At such times, even the frequent discharge of a 

 gun has fewer terrors for them than the unknown 



