Once that happened to me. Well, my form was under a
particularly fine turnip that had some dead leaves beneath the green
ones. I chose it because, like the brown earth, they just matched the
colour of my back. I was sleeping there quite soundly when my sister
came and woke me.
"There are men in the field," she said, her eyes nearly starting out of
her head with fear, for she was always very timid.
"I'm off."
"Are you?" I answered. "Well, I think I shall stop here where I shan't
be noticed. If we begin jumping over those turnips they will see us."
"We might run down the rows, keeping our ears close to our backs," she
remarked.
"No," I said, "there are too many bare patches."
At this moment a gun went 'bang' some way off; and my sister, like a
wise hare, scuttled away at full speed for the wood. But I only made
myself smaller than usual and lay watching and listening.
There was a good deal to see and hear; for instance, a covey of
partridges, troublesome birds that come scratching and fidgeting about
when one wants to sleep, were running to and fro in a great state of
concern.
"They are after us," said the old cock.
"I remember the same thing last year. Come on, do."
"How can I with all these young ones to look after?" answered the hen.
"Why, if once they are scattered I shall never find them again."
"Just as you like, you know best," said the cock. "Goodbye," and away
he flew, while his wife and the rest ran to a little distance, scattered
and squatted.
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