The frightened moorhen stole back to her spotty eggs, the
dipper returned to his dipping and curtseying to his own image
in the stream, and I to my idle dreaming and watching.
The watching was not wholly in vain, since there were here
revealed to me things, or aspects of things, that were new. A
great deal depends on atmosphere and the angle of vision. For
instance, I have often looked at swans at the hour of sunset,
on the water and off it, or flying, and have frequently had
them between me and the level sun, yet never have I been
favoured with the sight of the rose-coloured, the red, and the
golden-yellow varieties of that majestic waterfowl, whose
natural colour is white. On the other hand, who ever saw a
carrion-crow with crimson eyes? Yet that was one of the
strange things I witnessed on the Otter.
Game is not everywhere strictly preserved in that part of
Devon, and the result is that the crow is not so abhorred and
persecuted a fowl as in many places, especially in the home
counties, where the cult of the sacred bird is almost
universal. At one spot on the stream where my rambles took me
on most days a pair of crows invariably greeted my approach
with a loud harsh remonstrance, and would keep near me, flying
from tree to tree repeating their angry girdings until I left
the place. Their nest was in a large elm, and after some days
I was pleased to see that the young had been safely brought
off.
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