XXXIII December Peace 



IN the brief and quiet days of December the life of 

 the woods seems only half to awaken between one 

 long night and the next, and their aspect is one of 

 peace. The life of woodland animals and birds 

 flows on with diminished volume. The birds are 

 few in numbers, except, perhaps, when some vast 

 flock of immigrant wood-pigeons settles nightly in 

 some thick cover of firs ; and when the pheasants 

 raise their roost ing- clamour at nightfall in the 

 boughs, it seems to echo through a naked and 

 empty world. Complete hibernation is rare among 

 animals in Britain, compared with the unfailing 

 regularity of the winter sleep of many species in 

 more rigorous climates. Yet the rustling run and 

 shrill pipe of vole and shrew, so constantly present 

 in the summer thickets, are now heard but seldom ; 

 and of all the bats which peopled the summer 

 dusk, only the common pipistrelle is sometimes 

 seen hawking in the full light of the warmest after- 

 noons, when a few insects can still be found abroad. 

 The voices of the few birds now singing ring in the 

 silence as if under an empty dome. In May the 

 song of each thrush or blackcap is underlain by 

 innumerable other voices ; and if we move a little 

 away, it is quickly overridden by the notes of an- 

 other singer. Even the blackbird's first bars before 



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