THE COMMON WILD DUCK 201 



moor under the woodland oaks, after the acorns and 

 leaves have fallen, with the drip, drip, drip of the 

 rain, and a cold one too, making one feel damp, no 

 matter how well clothed or shod, just to see a few 

 couples of Wild Ducks come to feed on the fallen 

 mast, the oak and beech mast ! Where the great 

 limbs reach out over the moor turf all the hollows 

 are filled with water, dead leaves, and acorns ; the 

 outer shell or case gets softened after being in damp 

 leaves and water. 



It is what the moor-folks call a "dirty sort of 

 evening," generally uncomfortable ; there is a lurid 

 light about, what they call " a wild look o' things," 

 and they are quite right in their definition ; for 

 a long level line of dull orange shows, and above 

 that, bands of clouds of a dark cold grey, broken 

 here and there by ragged fire-like flashes, as if a 

 fierce fire was raging behind those dark cloud 

 bands, if they would but lift and let you see it. 



The hills against that, line of dull orange show as 

 grey masses. In the middle distance, where the 

 moor valley runs, clouds of light grey mist appear, 

 rolling up and out from the great ducal fir warren 

 like wood-smoke from cottagers' chimneys. The 

 warren looks like a great mass of dull indigo blue. 

 But as we are noting this, a light creeps and spreads 

 over the part of the moor which we are only on the 

 extreme edge of, patiently watching, well hidden up, 

 but very wet, looking for ducks ; with no gun, only 

 our glasses and our well-tried and trusty ash staff. 

 This strange wild light wanders here and there ; the 



