106 GREEN TRAILS AND UPLAND PASTURES 



eat the rotten apples on the frozen compost heap. It is 

 there the cat hunts them, stalking behind the hedge. 

 One of the delights of a walk to our pasture is the soft, 

 sneaking approach through the woods, and the sur- 

 prised uprush of pheasants from the ground when we 

 are discovered, or the sudden appearance of a white 

 tennis-ball, bounding away from under the apple trees. 

 The pips and stalks of wild roses and the new wood of 

 raspberry vines are food for the rabbits, nor are they at 

 all averse to domestic roses and cultivated raspberry 

 stalks, as I know to my sorrow. They are out in almost 

 all weathers, and the alder thicket below the pasture, on 

 the swamp edge, is in winter a perfect network of their 

 regularly travelled roads leading out to the feeding 

 grounds. The dog goes quite mad on this criss cross of 

 trails. 



The old apple trees of our clearing, studded with 

 suckers and spikes, are also a favourite roosting place 

 for the pheasants. The pheasants evidently eat the 

 terminal buds. The pine grosbeaks, too, discovered the 

 apple trees last winter, carefully rejecting the skin of the 

 fruit as they did the skin of the berries. Many people, 

 I find, who attempted to attract the grosbeaks around 

 their dwellings discovered that apples were one of the 

 few tempting baits. These birds have not yet learned, 

 like the chickadees and nuthatches, the ways of civiliza- 

 tion; they will not touch suet or crumbs or even sun- 

 flower seeds. But apples will tempt them always. 



