1 82 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



great trunk of a fir with the agility of a squirrel, he 

 runs along the branches that touch and interlace one 

 with another. Presently he pauses and listens ; he is 

 now close to a dead fir, and on one of its bare limbs 

 a little below him a fine capercailzie cock sits, singing 

 his love-song, his head thrown up, wings trailed, and 

 his broad tail outspread like a fan and held well up 

 over his back. The whole of his feathers are ruffled, 

 those under his chin being raised and puffed out 

 His song is composed of harsh, grating gulps and 

 sounds, something like ' Peller ! peller ! ' but it absorbs 

 him entirely, and his imagination has caused him to 

 forget his instinct of self-preservation, for the marten 

 is close up, hidden by some of the dead limbs. 

 Once more the bird holds forth, and, as he raises his 

 head and with half-closed eyes gives the last note 

 or, rather, gulp of his dreamland song, the marten 

 leaps on his back and has his teeth in his throat and 

 his powerful forefeet round it in an instant. The 

 great bird flaps off the limb where he has sung for 

 the last time and flaps down to the foot of the tree, 

 the marten still holding tight to him. Before the 

 startled ' Gok ! gok ! gok ! ' of his female admirers is 

 lost in the distance, the poor capercailzie is a dead 

 bird and a meal for the marten and his family. 



Even the squirrel does not escape when he con- 



