124 WILD LIFE AT HOME. 



their haunches upon some half-submerged branch, 

 munching bits of succulent weed, which they have 

 dived to the bottom of their native pond to secure. 

 They are very fond of a floating bit of plank to 

 rest upon, and look exceedingly comical when 

 sitting up and washing themselves. I know a 

 little pond in the banks of which a number live, 

 and sometimes afford me great fun. When they 

 run out into the field along their well-worn tunnel- 

 like tracks through the grass I creep quietly 

 upon my hands and knees along the edge of their 

 aquatic home until I cut them off, and then crawl 

 after them. When doing this I have sometimes 

 known them clap as flat as pancakes, and look up 

 at me with their nervous little dark eyes. 



Our illustration of the rodent was obtained by 

 hiding the camera and photographer on the bank 

 of a pond, and waiting until one came out of his 

 burrow and entered the field of focus. 



A year or two ago, whilst my brother and I 

 were engaged in photographing a nightingale's 

 nest situated in a small Hertfordshire copse, we 

 heard a faint chirruping cry, as of a young 

 pheasant in distress, proceeding from a dry ditch 

 close by. Upon investigation we could see the 

 dead leaves heave every time the sound came 

 forth, and by-and-by discovered a chubby little 

 red head peeping out. We were greatly puzzled 

 with its appearance, and could not even guess at 

 what it was until we recovered it, when it turned 



