To Mountain Tarn 



and harsh comes the sound of one feeding among 

 the sedges. 



Grey adult and dark young are together. The 

 mother nibbles gravely, moving only far enough 

 for fresh blades. The young is more sportive. 

 In its play it indulges in the squirting motions 

 of a guinea-pig. Habits of play, as well as of 

 graver moods, run through families. So it is 

 with the rodents. It appears even in the rabbit 

 and the hare. They graze and play undisturbed 

 by my near presence ; from which I gather that 

 they neither hear nor see well. Only some sharp 

 sound or sudden movement alarms them. 



Swimming under the far bank is what might 

 be mistaken for a vole. Many of his deeds are 

 put down to the innocent. The longer tail, 

 pointed nose, beady eyes, and lighter coat mark 

 him out as a rat, and therefore rascal. Any 

 doubt is set at rest when he takes to the grass, 

 and makes off over the field, with the character- 

 istic jumping motion. 



At the sluice, lade and stream join. Beyond 

 is a stretch of still water, held back by the dam. 

 In the sluggish iris-fringed deep, food multiplies. 

 Here the trout fatten ; hither the fisher comes 

 more than over the rest of the stream. The 

 conditions of success are wind and night, mainly 

 night. 



There is no wind, not so much as would lift 

 the down of a moulting chick, or the winged 



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