DECEMBER. 197 



LIFE AND DESOLATION. 



December 18. A solitary large bird always seems 

 to add to the desolate aspect of a wintry scene. The 

 shrug-shouldered heron, standing knee-deep and all 

 alone in a wide mere fringed with dead, rustling 

 rushes ; a raven perched aloft on the lichened crags 

 that dominate a silent valley ; a single black-backed 

 gull sitting by the edge of a winding dyke that loses 

 itself in the dead level of salt-marshes stretching 

 from horizon to horizon each of these lonely land- 

 scapes seems to need that touch of motionless life 

 to emphasize its utter emptiness and vastness. Nor 

 do you realize the size and silence of a large tree- 

 bordered lake until its crystal surface is cracked by 

 the wake of some distant water bird. It is not so 

 much that this speck of a bird gives you a point to 

 measure the distance by, as that its utter loneliness 

 in the waste deepens your impression of vastness and 

 solitude. But of all symbols of desolation in a land- 

 scape, perhaps a hawk, seated alone on a lonely, leaf- 

 less tree overlooking a waste of stubble, as the short 

 winter day closes, is as saddening as any. 



THE HAWK'S LONELINESS. 



There is always pathos in the loneliness of a 

 tyrant. From dawn to dusk the hawk knows no 

 moments of peace. Every other bird may pass un- 

 noticed where he chooses, and consort with whom 

 he will ; but each wing-beat of the hawk spreads 

 panic before him, and he is followed by the vocifera- 

 tion of hate behind. Wherever he alights is a 



