Man's Superiority. 91 



scream, and the crows left at home to guard the nests 

 and the young go off caw-cawing and protesting, as I 

 take it. The wood is properly marked off, and each 

 party takes its own portion. Ferrets are put into the 

 holes, and the dogs are active, and packs of boys 

 gather from the district round, and shout and halloo 

 and add to the uproar. In some places where paraffine 

 or kerosine has been run into the rabbit-holes — a 

 famous device for making short work in some places 

 now-a-days — there is great slaughter. Occasionally a 

 ferret will "lay-up," as they say down here, and have 

 to be dug out, and spades and forks are called into 

 requisition. One can only turn away, lamenting the 

 necessity that forces men periodically to spoil the 

 idyllic repose of such a lovely spot, and to leave the 

 most impressive tokens of their presence in holes, long 

 runs, and heaps of earth, which, in such a place — so 

 seldom trodden of human foot — it takes a long time to 

 get worn down and effaced. About equally exciting 

 are the forays against the poor wood-pigeons in the 

 early spring and autumn. 



And, as if permanently to emphasise the fact of 

 man's superiority, and also his, perhaps, pardonable 

 rapacity (for nature sometimes needs help in adjusting 

 her balance so to keep down destructive predominancy, 

 all too corroborative of the survival of the least worthy, 

 if not of the fittest, as respects beauty, whatever may 

 be said of use), here and there one comes on little huts 

 roughly formed of the fallen and lopped branches of 

 trees — not so closely put together as to shut out the 

 light, yet closely enough to afford complete concealment 

 and shelter to gamekeeper and sportsman, either when 

 watching poachers by night or intent on securing some 

 specimens of very shy and retiring creatures. In the 



