and the marvellous clarity of the sunset yellow of their heads, shading
to twilight down their backs, to black night on their wings, barred by a
strip of clear white moonlight. They agreed that these were most
unusual-looking creatures. How unusual any naturalist would have been
glad to tell them; for these were that great and prized rarity, the
Evening Grosbeak. So, too, in the pine woods they were showered by bits
of cones, and looked aloft to make out a distant little bird busily
engaged in tearing the cones to pieces. They laughed at his industry,
but would have been immensely interested could they have examined at
close hand the Crossbill's beak and its singular adaption to just this
task. And of course they remarked the stately deliberate-looking prints
of the grouse; and the herded tramping of the quail. The winter was
populous enough, in spite of its rigour. Some of its many creatures the
boys knew; many more they did not; but you may be sure they saw all that
did not exercise the closest circumspection.
For miles about, the little sleigh explored the country: main-road, worn
smooth by countless farmer-sleighs; by-roads, through which the pony had
to wallow belly-deep, making a new track. Not the mere pleasure of
driving lured them out--that amounted to little after the week of
novelty--but something of the spirit of exploration was in it. Duke
always accompanied them, plunging powerfully through the deepest drifts,
exulting in the snow, rolling in it, frisking in it in all directions,
racing down the road and back, glad to be alive and warm this freezing
weather. One day in a patch of woods he came to an abrupt halt. The
boys, watching, saw his eye fixed, his upper lip snarl back the least in
the world, his tail stiffen except at its quivering tip, his whole body
lengthen and half-crouch and turn rigid. And as the sleigh wallowed near
him, suddenly, with an immense scattering of snow and a startling roar,
an old cock-partridge burst from beneath the surface of the snow and
hurtled away through the frozen trees.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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