On Moorlands and Roughs. 41 



the wayside. Or very often the big brown birds may 

 be approached very closely during a fog. In these 

 districts fogs frequently come on with absolutely 

 startling rapidity. Not the yellow soup-like abomi- 

 nations that are so familiar in London and other big 

 cities, but dense shrouds of white vapour that chill 

 one to the very marrow, obscure every landmark, 

 and render the moors practically impassable for the 

 time being. Often have we been so caught in these 

 moorland fogs and been compelled to wait amongst 

 the heath until they cleared. On other occasions 

 they have overtaken us upon the highways across 

 the moors, and then we have remarked the apparent 

 stupidity of the Grouse amongst the mist. We have 

 approached the birds as they sat bewildered in the 

 stunted thorn and birch trees by the wayside, or upon 

 the walls, and often remarked how loth they were to 

 take wing, allowing us to come within a few feet of 

 them without showing the slightest concern. The 

 poacher would make the most of such splendid op- 

 portunities, but his fraternity are scarce upon the 

 moors, and the keepers are not much bothered by 

 such gentry. He has perhaps the most to fear from 

 the wandering gypsy that curious mixture of itiner- 

 ant tinker, hawker, horse-dealer, and romany, that 

 scours the country-side nomad-like, with a retinue of 

 scraggy horses, dirty children, tilted wagon and tent. 

 This man takes every Grouse egg that he can with 



