30 AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER . 
lake, he is sure to see something interesting in 
either case. One morning, as I leaned against 
the oak’s wide trunk, watching a bittern on the 
opposite shore, I noticed that the bird showed 
signs of uneasiness, paying more heed to the 
bushes than to its fishing. Suddenly the cause 
of its unrest became apparent. The bushes 
just behind it were slowly poked apart and the 
head of a fox appeared. With a guttural note 
of alarm the bittern rose and flew across the 
lake, above the trees on the opposite bank, and 
out of sight. Reynard, graceful and alert, 
stood upon the mossy shore for a moment, look¬ 
ing after his lost opportunity; then turned 
abruptly and vanished in the underbrush. An¬ 
other morning, while I was under the same 
tree, a big blue heron came softly stepping 
along the beach towards me. He was a comical 
figure, with his attenuated legs, wasted to the 
semblance of rushes; his extensible neck, expres¬ 
sive of centuries of hungry reaching after the 
partly attainable; and his long beak as cruel as 
a pair of shears. His dull eyes told of terror 
when he saw me. For a moment I felt their 
worried glare, and then the quaint machinery 
of the bird was put in motion and he flapped 
off out of sight. 
One still, cloudy afternoon in August, I lay 
upon a raft of weather-beaten logs and mossy 
