304 MY COUNTRY WANDERINGS 



tions, others more concealed. Eggs were laid, 

 the young ones hatched and almost reared, and 

 then — the Snow! One day in April as I wandered 

 through the woodland nest after nest was full of 

 Snow, the eggs cold, the young ones dead. Great 

 mortality in bird life must have taken place. 

 Nine female Pheasants known to me were sit- 

 ting bravely and complacently upon their olive 

 treasures up to April 23 at mid-day. With the 

 advent of that remarkable fall of Snow, however, 

 six of the birds gave up their task. The remain- 

 ing three sat on, and were actually almost hidden 

 under the white mantle that lay inches deep all 

 around. The Fox was not slow to take advantage 

 of this sudden return of wintry weather. The 

 three brave game birds mentioned paid a heavy 

 penalty for their courage and self-sacrifice. Each 

 bird was snatched from its homestead and carried 

 off by Reynard, so that eventually all the nine 

 nests, with their precious treasures, were ruined. 



So, too, with the young Rabbits. Hard weather 

 means hard hunting for animal folk. Hunger, 

 and oftentimes starvation, stares them in the face. 

 Food must of necessity be procured at all costs. 

 The Fox, as a consequence, was in dire straits to 

 keep the home well supplied, and an enormous 

 number of young Rabbits fell a prey to his cunning. 

 The Partridges that started nesting had a sorry 

 time, and sportsmen were perturbed as to the 



