From Fox's Earth 



are no more than enough to keep them in check. 

 To stop one weasel from his prey is to give the 

 vole an advantage, which Nature does not think it 

 wise to give. 



A passing keeper would have shot it, because 

 it destroys game. Nature does not pay his wages. 

 There is much of this lob-sided work going on. 

 I was on the side of the gamekeeper. I knew 

 better ; only the judgment was blinded by the 

 emotions. Probably no harm was done. The 

 weasel would circle round, and when he had got 

 beyond me, would cross and recross to pick up 

 the scent, with more than the skill of a trained 

 pointer. 



As I lay, my eye wandered on and up to the 

 slow powerful flight of a bird on the wing. 

 Nature has no surprises. Whatever comes into 

 the scene takes its rightful place there. It is 

 another touch to the picture. There are subtle 

 links of connexion. It is there, because it has 

 something to do. The bird was circling over 

 the rough stretch, between me and the base of 

 the hill. The circle seems characteristic of the 

 eagles and the hawks. It was one of them. 

 In the distance I knew it for a buzzard. 



Lost against the slope, I could not follow its 

 doings. Near by, where it vanished, was a riven 

 pine. Doubtless it was foraging. It is now so 

 rare that I , who am so much abroad, had not seen 

 one for long. It may have lighted on some bare 



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