d it howled at him
suddenly, in a voice calculated to make strong men jump--was death of
the night, otherwise a short-eared owl.

But a gun went "boomp!" with that thick, damp sort of sound that smacks
of black powder, somewhere down on earth, and a huge "herd" of green
plover, _alias_ peewits, which are lapwings, rose, as if blown up by an
explosion, to meet them, their thousand wings flickering in the
frost-haze like a shower of confetti, and the owl was so disconcerted
by the disturbance that he dropped back into the night whence he came,
as one who falls into a sea.

Then suddenly the thrush--all the thrushes, indeed--tipped tails, and
flew downward--offering no explanation to help one to understand
why--till they dropped, each one entirely on his own hook, apparently,
in or about some gardens, as if they had tumbled out of the sky; and
our thrush, in twenty seconds, had slipped into some apple-trees, and
thence to some laurels round a shed, and--was asleep! I say "was
asleep." Out of the starry sky, down, in under, and asleep--all
without emotion, and like a machine. Now, what is one to make of such
a bird?

He did not see, or, more correctly, did not appear to see--for I do not
know what he saw and what he pretended not to see, really--the lean,
lithe, long, low weasel that passed, climbing and sniffing, beneath
him--within six inches--possibly scenting out a rat. He did not hear,
or show that he heard, the blackbird--she was rusty, dark brown, as a
matter of actual fact--scream, a piercing and public-spirited scream,
when the very big claws of a little, round, spotted-feathered ball with
wings, like a parody of a cherub--but men call it a little owl,
really--closed upon her and squeezed, or pierced, out her life. He did
not feel, or let on that he felt, the branches gently sway as two eyes,
glinting back the light of the moon--eyes which were the property of a
"silver tabby" female cat--floated among the twigs, looking for him,
him most certainly, whom she seemed faintly to smell, but never saw.

[Illustration: "A 'silver tabby' floated among the twigs, looking for
him"]

These things represented tense moments dotted through hours of cold,
dark silence, and the blue-black dome of night arched, and the moon
drifted, all in rigid, cold, and appalling stillness.

Then the wind changed, and our thrush awoke to a "muggy" day, under a
soaked, cotton-wool, gray sky, all sodden with streaming showers of
rain