Wild Life on a Surrey Moor 



warbler anywhere in the neighbourhood, although the 

 weather conditions were ideal. 



The ancient cottage in the clearing and its solitary 

 human occupant both provided ample evidence of the 

 bravery of the human heart, past and present. One 

 hot afternoon, when the weather and the heavy photo- 

 graphic gear I was carrying over my shoulder had dis- 

 sipated my strength, I called and asked for a drink of 

 water. Looking at me with a measure of suspicion the 

 old fellow answered curtly: "None in the house." I 

 persuaded him, however, to lower an old pail on the end 

 of a crooked stick to the bottom of the well and draw 

 me a supply containing newts and other repulsive-look- 

 ing cattle. I was too far spent to be critical, so, as the 

 little boy put it, " dranked and thanked " and took my 

 departure full of meditation. 



Something of the loneliness of the place will be 

 gathered when I mention that the old man ultimately 

 died in the cottage without human aid or comfort, and 

 was not missed until some while after his demise. 



Twice within the last twenty years I have seen the 

 rare Montagu's harrier breeding on this moor, and at 

 one time the hobby was more or less common in the 

 woods round about, but the ubiquitous egg-collector has 

 discovered its haunts, and extermination is, I fear, only 

 a question of time. 



The nightjar, goatsucker, or fern owl, as the bird is 

 alternately called, may be heard on still evenings 

 trilling away its curious song on nearly every common 

 in the neighbourhood. Passing through the corner of a 



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