THE NIGHT SIDE OF NATURE 87 



the poacher's gin. It resembles nothing so nearly 

 as the cry of a child; and when it suddenly ceases, 

 we know that the wire snare has tightened round its 

 throat. All night long crake answers crake from the 

 meadows, seeming now at our feet, now far out 

 yonder. Like the cuckoo, the corn-rail is a bird 

 oftener heard than seen; it is of hiding habits, and 

 finds a secure and snug retreat in lush summer 

 grass. The wild whistle of a curlew comes from 

 high overhead, as the bird flies through the night 

 to its far-off feeding-ground. In the fall of the year 

 multitudes of migratory birds pass over; we " hear 

 the beat of their pinions fleet," but their forms we 

 cannot see. If only, however, we hear the cry of 

 their voices, falling dreamily through the sky, the 

 species is easy of identification. 



Approach the reed-beds silently, and you will hear 

 the hoarse croak of the frogs; or springing wild 

 ducks, as they beat the air with their strong wings. 

 Emerging from the waterside to a belt of coppice, 

 you will be again reminded how lightly the creatures 

 of the fields and woods sleep. The faintest rustle 

 brings chirping from the bushes, and in the densest 

 darkness even some of the delicate wood-birds sing 

 not only the sedge and grasshopper warblers, but 

 from the willows come the lute-like mellowness 

 and wild sweetness of the blackcap, another night 

 singer. 



