At Home with Wild Nature 



CHAPTER I 



VOICED Q^.JTO FIGHT' ,:; 



VERY rarely are 1 the . tctagu.es . .ot m Nature stilled . 

 When they are 'ntfeiy> feller**" &' b'&ftgT&ss kind of 

 oppression overtakes the human soul. I have felt this 

 far up on the snow-wreathed heights of the Pennine 

 range during the deathlike calm of a winter's night, also 

 whilst standing wrapped in the awe-inspiring solitude 

 of a Norwegian mountain-side during the wee small 

 hours, through which even the redwing and the fieldfare 

 sleep. At such times the mournful soughing of a far- 

 away waterfall or the friendly prattle of a neighbouring 

 beck alone relieves the almost unbearable tension. 



In such circumstances the most melancholy and 

 pathetic voice I have ever heard has been the desolate 

 heart-sick bleating of a lost sheep wandering along 

 through the chilly night, and the most cheerful and in- 

 spiring that of a rooster sending his clarion voice into 

 silent space. Both can be heard at an immense dis- 

 tance, and the prodigious difference they produce upon 

 the human emotions must be experienced to be believed. 

 It has been asserted that the high-pitched notes of 

 chanticleer can, under favourable atmospheric condi- 

 tions, be heard three miles away, and although I have 



