Nature's Scavengers 219 



for on a considerable scale. Large sums have, within re- 

 cent years, been spent in collecting, and burying, the Salmon 

 which have died from disease, and been stranded on the 

 banks of some of our rivers ; and, it being recognised that 

 such means of disposing of the bodies is a very inefficient 

 one for checking the spread of infection, still larger ex- 

 penditure has been undertaken, or is in contemplation, in 

 some districts, by which the dead fish may be consumed by 

 fire, or chemical agents. In olden days, all such fish would 

 have been devoured by Nature's scavengers, and the germs 

 of disease effectually dealt with by the process of digestion. 

 Diseased Grouse upon the moors were similarly disposed 

 of, and in like manner the country was kept clean from 

 other epidemics, or they were stamped out when they 

 occurred. Another important function that the birds dis- 

 charged, was in putting a timely period to the sufferings of 

 wounded, or crippled, creatures. Two or three cases, 

 where the arrival of a pair of Ravens would have been in 

 the nature of a godsend, came under my notice, during my 

 sojourn in Wales. In one of them, a young sheep had 

 fallen over a little precipice on the side of a stream, and had 

 fractured both its fore legs, and otherwise hurt itself so that 

 it could scarcely move. During the day or two it had lain 

 in its helpless condition, everything within reach, including 

 all the moss and lichen from the rocks, and part of its own 

 fleece, had been consumed, and, when found, it was in the 

 last stage of emaciation. It was covered with a cloud of 

 blow-flies, whose maggots had already penetrated its flesh in 

 many places, and my nose warned me of the presence of 

 putrefying matter some time before I reached it. It was 

 lying on a ledge of rock at the neck of a pool, and, never 

 doubting for a moment that it was dead, I got a long stick 

 to push it into the water, and so rid the spot of an eyesore. 

 My horror may be imagined when, on being touched, the 

 poor beast raised its head, and, turning towards me two 

 sightless and maggot-filled orbits, actually attempted a 

 feeble cry ! I desperately pushed it into deep water, and 

 hurried on, but the sight haunts me still whenever I think 

 of the spot. Why does life refuse to go in such a case ? 



