BIRD-CATCHING. 
485 
appear at the proper season ? Amusing companions 
often visit one,—such as the merry little squirrel, as it 
hops across. 
Enough; we must return to our business. Another 
flock of Redwings has just passed through the wood: 
several have already alighted on the decoy-branch, and 
look greedily down on the fresh berries beneath; the 
others are perched on the tallest firs at the edge of the 
wood. Our little hut, covered with ivy, alarms them just 
as little as the green-coloured net; and yet the resting- 
place does seem to them quite safe :—a fresh, green spot 
in the middle of a wood, with branches of juniper scarcely 
touched, and covered with fruit, interspersed with clusters 
of berries of the mountain ash. This looks very suspi¬ 
cious, and demands careful investigation. “ We shan’t 
do any good with this lot,” says the experienced fowler, 
who we have engaged to do the roughest of the work ; 
“they have been at this game before now!” He was, 
however, mistaken this time, at all events. The Lapland 
strangers have abandoned their usual caution: every¬ 
thing is so quiet here in the wood,—one sees and hears 
nothing; the berries, too, are so tempting! “ Who 
knows when we may get such a feed again ! there are 
several of our companions hopping amongst the berries.” 
Idiots, you are all lost! They only think of the feast 
in prospect: one, two, three, ten descend, one after 
another; the whole flock almost is on the fowling-floor, 
with the exception of one or two old hands who remain 
out of reach, and continue to warn the over-eager throng. 
The fowler gives the word,—one pull, and, quick as 
lightning, the too-trusting strangers are struggling in 
the toils of the net! 
The next operation is extracting the prisoners from the 
