Page 31 - English Reader - 8

the deforestation that had been taking place in the surrounding hills had driven the deer into this

green valley; and the leopard, naturally, had followed.
It was some weeks before I saw the leopard again, although I was often made aware of its presence.
A dry, rasping cough sometimes gave it away. At times I felt almost certain that I was being followed.

Once, when I was late getting home, and the brief twilight gave way to a dark, moonless night, I was
startled by a family of porcupines running about in a clearing. I looked around nervously, and saw
two bright eyes staring at me from a thicket. I stood still, my heart banging away against my ribs.
Then the eyes danced away, and I realised that they were only fireflies.

In May and June, when the hills were brown and dry, it was always cool and green near the stream,
where ferns and maiden hair and long grasses continued to thrive.
Downstream I found a small pool where I could bathe, and a cave with water dripping from the
roof, the water spangled gold and silver in the shafts of sunlight that pushed through the slits in the
cave roof.

“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters.” Perhaps David
had discovered a similar paradise when he wrote those words; perhaps I, too, would write good
words. The hill station’s summer visitors had not discovered this heaven of wild and green things. I
was beginning to feel that the place belonged to me, that dominion was mine.

The stream had at least one other regular visitor, a spotted forktail, and
though it did not fly away at my approach it became restless
if I stayed too long, and then it would move from
boulder to boulder uttering a long complaining cry.

I spent an afternoon trying to discover the bird’s
nest, which I was certain contained young ones,
because I had seen the forktail carrying grubs
in her bill. The problem was that when the bird
flew upstream I had difficulty in following her
rapidly enough as the rocks were sharp and
slippery.
Eventually after slowly making my way

upstream, I hid myself in the hollow stump
of a tree at a spot where the forktail often
disappeared. I had no intention of robbing the
bird. I was simply curious to see its home.
By crouching down, I was able to command a view of a small stretch of the stream and the sides
of the ravine; but I had done little to deceive the forktail, who continued to object strongly to my
presence so near her home.

I summoned up my reserves of patience and sat perfectly still for about ten minutes. The forktail
quietened down. Out of sight, out of mind. But where had she gone? Probably into the walls of the
ravine where I felt sure, she was guarding her nest.

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