WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
V 
On the eighth day of the feud, the " Chickery- 
Cock " remembered a certain rotten tree stump 
which stood in a clearing of the wood. This 
stump was the especial discovery and private pro- 
perty of the " Chickery-Cock." No other stump 
afforded such noble centipedes, such succulent 
slugs : immense light-shunning things lurked 
under its mossy bank, and among the damp flakes 
of touchwood which he chiselled from its bulky 
sides. It was a mild afternoon, with a sky 
dappled grey and purpled after the fashion of 
Irish skies in autumn, and soft south wind. 
Except for the buzzing of a few late wasps, 
it was very still in the wood. The " Chickery- 
Cock " went straight to his tree stump. The 
hens strolled after him, clucking conversa- 
tionally. Even before he came to the clearing 
he heard a rustle of busy movement in the 
place, and his wattles grew redder with a pre- 
monition of what he was to see behind the 
bushes. 
Upon the stump his sacred stump stood 
Creaban, chiselling at the rotten wood, and 
near-by the Yellow Pullet waited expectantly. 
The " Chickery-Cock " clucked angrily, then 
spun in a semicircle with drooping wing to 
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