Before me and on either hand at this elevation a vast extent
of country was disclosed. The surface was everywhere broken,
but there was no break in the wonderful greenness, which the
recent rain had intensified. There is too much green, to my
thinking, with too much uniformity in its soft, bright tone,
in South Devon. After gazing on such a landscape the brown,
harsh, scanty vegetation of the hilltop seemed all the more
grateful. The heath was an oasis and a refuge; I rambled
about in it until my feet and legs were wet; then I sat
down to let them dry and altogether spent several agreeable
hours at that spot, pleased at the thought that no human
fellow-creature would intrude upon me. Feathered companions
were, however, not wanting. The crowing of cock pheasants
from the thicket beside the old road warned me that I was on
preserved grounds. Not too strictly preserved, however, for
there was my old friend the carrion-crow out foraging for his
young. He dropped down over the trees, swept past me, and was
gone. At this season, in the early summer, he may be easily
distinguished, when flying, from his relation the rook. When
on the prowl the crow glides smoothly and rapidly through the
air, often changing his direction, now flying close to the
surface, anon mounting high, but oftenest keeping nearly on a
level with the tree tops. His gliding and curving motions are
somewhat like those of the herring-gull, but the wings in
gliding are carried stiff and straight, the tips of the long
flight-feathers showing a slight upward curve.
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