300 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
then, taking an apple from my pocket, I placed it 
in his trough. He turned it over with his snout, 
then looked up and said something like “ Thank- 
you” in a series of gentle grunts. Then he bit 
off and ate a small piece, then another small bite, 
and eventually taking what was left in his mouth 
he finished eating it. After that he always expected 
me to stay a minute and speak to him when I went 
to the field; I knew it from his way of greeting 
me, and on such occasions I gave him an apple. 
But he never ate it greedily: he appeared more 
inclined to talk than to eat, until by degrees I 
came to understand what he was saying. What 
he said was that he appreciated my kind intentions 
in giving him apples. But, he went on, to tell the 
real truth, it is not a fruit I am particularly fond 
of. I am familiar with its taste as they sometimes 
give me apples, usually the small unripe or bad 
ones that fall from the trees. However, I don’t 
actually dislike them. I get skim milk and am 
rather fond of it; then a bucket of mash, which is 
good enough for hunger; but what I enjoy most is 
a cabbage, only I don’t get one very often now. I 
sometimes think that if they would let me out of 
this muddy pen to ramble like the sheep and other 
beasts in the field or on the downs I should be able 
to pick up a number of morsels which would taste 
better than anything they give me. Apart from 
the subject of food I hope you won’t mind my 
telling you that I’m rather fond of being scratched 
on the back. 
