WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
from her own handiwork of the dead leaf and 
fern around : a study in tones, where every 
feather performed its own part in the scheme 
of shadings and in eliminating of the contour. 
Only his eye, alien to its surroundings, did not 
melt into its background with the rest of him. 
Round as a privet berry, and as black, it 
glistened like a drop of magic ink from a 
fortune-teller's bowl. Open, it was a clue to 
his whereabouts, if a little one shut, its 
owner was invisible. Such is Creaman the 
'Cock. 
All day he slept under the brambles where he 
had first alighted, but at dusk he woke and 
stretched leg and wing. He flew the length of 
Garrybrack to take his bearings. Never a path 
broke the ranks of the trees from end to end. 
He passed the white owl, and the latter wheeled 
aside decorously, in salute to a brother night- 
hunter. To the west side of the wood are 
dense hedgerows of furze and bramble, between 
little marshy fields, and here Creaman alighted. 
He wetted his dry bill, and then probed the 
cow-dung at a streamside scientifically. As 
he worked he knew that he was not alone, for 
travellers were dropping in continually. Now 
a snipe "keked" contentedly as he stooped 
towards the glimmer of a pool ; then a bunch 
of teal flew close overhead, quacking softly, 
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