WHEN MARCH WINDS BLOW. 143 



marvellous. One or two handfuls of scattered 

 leaves and a bit of dead bramble is enough for 

 him. Not much has he to fear from any prowler 

 of the air ; for if a hen-harrier a bird very rarely 

 seen on the moor now should by chance sight 

 him as he squats, his tail is spread out like that 

 of a fan - tailed pigeon, and he ducks his head. 

 If the sparrow - hawk, hunting for food for his 

 ravenous young, sights the cock flitting through 

 the trees, whilst he sits silently watching on some 

 limb close to the trunk of a tree, and gives him 

 a chase, he has his pains for nothing; for the 

 long - billed, full - eyed, swift - winged bird shoots, 

 twists, and doubles in and out of the network of 

 branches and twigs with such lightning speed that 

 the hawk has no chance of a capture. The first 

 bit of cover the cock sights below him he dashes 

 into, and is lost to view. 



For weeks I have been out in all directions, 

 over the hills and through the hollows at their 

 feet, over commons and through moorland - bogs, 

 as far as I dare go, and in all places something 

 is going on. Changes are taking place, and others 

 are threatened. Fir-woods that at one time were 



