60 The Amateur Poacher. 



thing is happy. As the plough-boys stroll along 

 they pluck the young succulent hawthorn leaves and 

 nibble them. 



It is the sweetest time of all for wandering in the 

 wood. The brambles have not yet grown so bushy 

 as to check the passage ; the thistles that in autumn 

 will be as tall as the shoulder and thick as a 

 walking-stick are as yet no bar ; burrs do not attach 

 themselves at every step, though the broad bur- 

 dock leaves are spreading wide. In its full develop- 

 ment the burdock is almost a shrub rather than 

 a plant, with a woody stem an inch or more in 

 diameter. 



Up in the fir trees the nests of the pigeons are 

 sometimes so big that it appears as if they must use 



x 



the same year after year, adding fresh twigs, else 

 they could hardly attain such bulk. Those in the 

 ash-poles are not nearly so large. In the open drives 

 blue cartridge-cases lie among the grass, the brass 

 part tarnished by the rain, thrown hurriedly aside 

 from the smoking breech last autumn. But the guns 

 are silent in the racks, though the keeper still carries 

 his gun to shoot the vermin, which are extremely 

 busy at this season. Vermin, however, do not quite 

 agree among themselves : weasels and stoats are 

 ^deadly enemies of mice and rats. Where rats are 



