On Keeping Still 



would first turn her tail to me, and presently come 

 round again, and finally get mad and flutter about 

 my head, scolding loudly to chivvy me away. 

 So it often happened that one had nearer or 

 happier or more illuminating glimpses of wild life 

 in that small hour of rest than would be possible 

 in a month of roaming the woods with gun or 

 collecting-box. 



Once as I was eating my lunch under the p.ines, 

 meanwhile watching a den I had found to see 

 what might come out of it, a crow sailed in on 

 noiseless wings and lit so near me that I hardly 

 dared wink for fear he would notice the motion. 

 My first thought was that he was nest-robbing 

 (a crow is very discreet about that business), 

 but he appeared rather to be listening, cocking 

 his head this way or that ; and from a lazy hawing 

 in the distance I concluded he was satisfying him- 

 self that his flock was occupied elsewhere and that 

 he was quite alone. Presently he hitched along 

 the branch on which he stood and glided off to 

 the crotch of a pine-tree, where he began to 

 uncover what was hidden under a mat of brown 

 needles. The first thing he took out was a piece 

 of glass, which sparkled with rainbow colors in 

 a stray glint of sunshine. Then came a bit of 

 quartz with more sparkles, a shell, a silvery 

 buckle, and some other glistening objects which 



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