Game and game-birds -- Great Britain; Gamekeepers -- Great Britain; Natural history -- Great Britain
Many animals snuggle together for warmth in bitter weather--as the
squirrels and the rats. Those who go ratting in hedges and dells in the
winter know they may try a dozen freshly used burrows without finding
a rat--when suddenly from a single hole the rats will come pouring out
in a stream of fur. Twenty or more rats will lie together in one hole.
They are clever enough to block up a hole on the windward side to keep
out the draught--so that a rat-hole newly stopped with soil, turnip
leaves, or grass, is almost certain indication that rats are within.
They store food for winter, and the keeper may find it more difficult
to secure his potatoes from frost than from the attack of the most
numerous of his furred foes.
* * * * *
The Fall
With the fall of the leaf we find the things we sought diligently in
the summer in vain. Within a foot of the path we trod almost daily, we
see, for the first time, where a pheasant brought off her brood; in
the fork of a slender birch-pole is that jay's nest for which we long
hunted--appearing now as a thick, deep wood-pigeon's nest; and where
the bracken has died down are the whitening bones of a rabbit which,
though his death-place was marked by the keeper's eyes, was not to be
found. A single leaf of June may hide a bird's secret from prying eyes.
By noting the things seen in the fall of the leaf we learn best how to
find summer's treasuries.
* * * * *
Late and Early Autumns
A man of grumbles, equal to the farmers, yet the gamekeeper is
prepared to admit that a late autumn brings him one blessing. The
leaves so screen his roosting pheasants that there is little fear
of night-shooting in his coverts. Accordingly, he sleeps peacefully
during many hours which he would have to devote to watching in a wet
early season. Deep in his heart, all the same, he has a certain liking
for the hours passed in watching over his birds at night. They bring
him rheumatism; but also an excitement that adds much to the savour
of existence. Not to know from moment to moment when his head may be
smashed in is a stimulating change from dealing with small game whose
worst powers of resistance are limited to a dig from the spurs of a
winged cock, or a scratch from the claws of a netted rabbit.
* * * * *
Hares in the Garden
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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