WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
overhead, as she came to the edge of a larger 
clearing between the trees, and one by one the 
wood birds went to sleep. There she found 
Creaban drinking the bitter mould-flavoured 
water which had collected in the crevice of a 
beech-tree's knotted roots. His gold and sable 
feathers were invisible in the dark : he was of 
the woods, and the woods hide their children 
well. But the Yellow Pullet came from Man, 
and in her case the powers which had painted 
the Pheasant had long since gone astray. 
Lemon and white, she was visible from one side 
of the clearing to the other. And Creaban 
had had enough of man-bred birds that day ; 
he was bruised and sore from the bill and spurs 
of such a one. He clattered to a perch 
twenty feet aloft. 
The Yellow Pullet was left alone. It was 
too dark to go farther ; it was too late to turn 
back. Three times she fluttered at the tree 
trunk and fell back impotently. The trees 
stood bare-boled seven feet from the ground, 
and her clipped wings would not bear her to 
the safety of so high a perch. She did not 
know that the still wood contained more secret 
dangers than the noisy yard at Tonsella. 
There, under the aegis of man, even after her 
wings had been crippled by his shears, she 
might roost safely on the ground if she pleased. 
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