S NATURAL HISTORY OF THE RED DEER 



Martindale, you must wend your way (not to the 

 Chapelry of Martindale, but) to the mother church of 

 this parish. There arrived, you may trace for yourself 

 the written evidence of the old-fashioned church- 

 wardens, who treated the children to ' scholar's ale ' 

 at the expense of the parish, and disbursed many 

 small sums for the heads of raven, badger or brock, 

 as well as for the scalps of genuine wild cats. A 

 great resort of Felis catus was this same lonely region 

 of Martindale. 



Now, alas ! the skirl of the grey cat no longer 

 breaks the stillness of the uplands when the damp 

 out of the wet ground is rising in clouds of white 

 vapour from the bottom of Fusedale. Hushed for 

 ever is the eagle's scream of war and rivalry in Banner- 

 dale, wild as the head of the valley looks, hemmed in 

 as it is with ramparts of dizzy precipice. But if you 

 linger beside the farmhouse at Dalehead, of which 

 more anon, you will probably recognise the long- 

 drawn, mournful wail of the brown buzzard, or else 

 the harsh croak of the vigilant raven will break upon 

 your ear, reminding you that a haunch of waste 

 venison would no more come amiss to his hungry 

 paunch than a gamey specimen of Herdwick mutton. 

 It is in the centre of these remote mountains, re- 

 moved a breathing space from electric bells and 



