Day after day the keeper, going his rounds, reads stories of life
and death. Here a bent leaf gives the clue: there a stray feather:
the snout of a rat tells of a poaching cat that killed the rat, but
left the head with its sharp front teeth and strong and long jaw-bone
untouched. A shrew's body is seen, snapped up by a cat, but left
uneaten on account of the bad taste. The remains of a feast are found,
carelessly covered by only a few leaves; another sign of cats' work.
A determined cat will kill almost anything that a fox might take; but
whereas a cat leaves all the feathers of an old bird, and the skin and
fur of old furred creatures, the fox swallows feathers, fur, skin,
bones, and all but the wings of birds, and the stomach and clawed feet
of ground game. Feathers in a circle by a field hedge tell of a hawk's
killing. Feet of little pheasants, and bits of downy skin by the coops
in the ride, speak of murdering rooks. A dead rabbit is seen, and four
tiny holes are discovered beneath the damp, mouthed fur of the pole--a
weasel has sucked the life-blood.
* * * * *