228 NATURE'S STORY OF THE YEAR 



See him pause, turn aside slightly, and descend 

 into the valley. Doubtless he hears the gurgling 

 of the stream, and smells the odour of freshly 

 turned furrows where the fat grub crawls dis- 

 consolate, and the wireworm, descending from an 

 upturned clod, is exposed to view. Here a banquet 

 is ready ; and near is a thicket containing a dessert 

 of ripe berries, and thick shelter desirable for a 

 morning rest. And there he may repose, per- 

 chance to dream of a home in the far North, or 

 that the near robin's song is that of a rival defeated 

 last spring. 



But, a few moments earlier, a figure bearing a 

 gun entered the wood. A loud report rings out ; 

 the thicket roars an echo ; and a scared jay 

 screeches in alarm. A cloud of feathers scatters 

 around the thrush ; he struggles to rise higher, but 

 vainly ; the half of one wing has been torn away ; 

 a feeble cry ; and the bird has fallen dead. His 

 clotted plumes record the triumph of human skill. 

 The buoyant being has become lifeless animal 

 matter. Are those wings never again to beat the 

 air impetuously ? One is in fragments ; but the 

 other will do well for the headgear of some kind 



