Kirby and Spence tell us that the battles of ants have long been celebrated and the date of them recorded， though they say that Huber is the only modern author who appears to have witnessed them. "AEneas Sylvius，" say they， "after giving a very circumstantial account of one contested with great obstinacy by a great and small species on the trunk of a pear tree，" adds that "this action was fought in the pontificate of Eugenius the Fourth， in the presence of Nicholas Pistoriensis， an eminent lawyer， who related the whole，history of the battle with the greatest fidelity."  A similar engagement between great and small ants is recorded by Olaus Magnus，in which the small ones， being victorious， are said to have buried the bodies of their own soldiers， but left those of their giant enemies a prey to the birds.  This event happened previous to the expulsion of the tyrant Christiern the Second from Sweden."  The battle which I witnessed took place in the Presidency of Polk， five years before the passage of Webster's Fugitive-Slave Bill.

　　Many a village Bose， fit only to course a mud-turtle in a victualling cellar， sported his heavy quarters in the woods， without the knowledge of his master， and ineffectually smelled at old fox burrows and woodchucks' holes； led perchance by some slight cur which nimbly threaded the wood， and might still inspire a natural terror in its denizens； ―― now far behind his guide， barking like a canine bull toward some small squirrel which had treed itself for scrutiny， then， cantering off， bending the bushes with his weight，imagining that he is on the track of some stray member of the jerbilla family.  Once I was surprised to see a cat walking along the stony shore of the pond， for they rarely wander so far from home.  The surprise was mutual.  Nevertheless the most domestic cat，which has lain on a rug all her days， appears quite at home in the woods， and， by her sly and stealthy behavior， proves herself more native there than the regular inhabitants.  Once， when berrying， I met with a cat with young kittens in the woods， quite wild， and they all， like their mother， had their backs up and were fiercely spitting at me.  A few years before I lived in the woods there was what was called a "winged cat" in one of the farm-houses in Lincoln nearest the pond， Mr. Gilian Baker's.  When I called to see her in June， 1842， she was gone a-hunting in the woods， as was her wont （I am not sure whether it was a male or female， and so use the more common pronoun）， but her mistress told me that she came into the neighborhood a little more than a year before， in April， and was finally taken into their house； that she was of a dark brownish-gray color， with a white spot on her throat， and white feet， and had a large bushy tail like a fox； that in the winter the fur grew thick and flatted out along her sides， forming stripes ten or twelve inches long by two and a half wide， and under her chin like a muff，the upper side loose， the under matted like felt， and in the spring these appendages dropped off.  They gave me a pair of her "wings，" which I keep still.  There is no appearance of a membrane about them.  Some thought it was part flying squirrel or some other wild animal， which is not impossible， for， according to naturalists，prolific hybrids have been produced by the union of the marten and domestic cat.  This would have been the right kind of cat for me to keep， if I had kept any； for why should not a poet's cat be winged as well as his horse？

　　In the fall the loon （Colymbus glacialis） came， as usual， to moult and bathe in the pond， making the woods ring with his wild laughter before I had risen.  At rumor of his arrival all the Mill-dam sportsmen are on the alert， in gigs and on foot， two by two and three by three， with patent rifles and conical balls and spy-glasses.  They come rustling through the woods like autumn leaves， at least ten men to one loon.  Some station themselves on this side of the pond， some on that， for the poor bird cannot be omnipresent； if he dive here he must come up there.  But now the kind October wind rises， rustling the leaves and rippling the surface of the water， so that no loon can be heard or seen， though his foes sweep the pond with spy-glasses， and make the woods resound with their discharges.  The waves generously rise and dash angrily，taking sides with all water-fowl， and our sportsmen must beat a retreat to town and shop and unfinished jobs.  But they were too often successful.  When I went to get a pail of water early in the morning I frequently saw this stately bird sailing out of my cove within a few rods.  If I endeavored to overtake him in a boat， in order to see how he would manoeuvre， he would dive and be completely lost， so that I did not discover him again， sometimes， till the latter part of the day.  But I was more than a match for him on the surface.  He commonly went off in a rain.

　　As I was paddling along the north shore one very calm October afternoon， for such days especially they settle on to the lakes，like the milkweed down， having looked in vain over the pond for a loon， suddenly one， sailing out from the shore toward the middle a few rods in front of me， set up his wild laugh and betrayed himself. I pursued with a paddle and he dived， but when he came up I was nearer than before.  He dived again， but I miscalculated the direction he would take， and we were fifty rods apart when he came to the surface this time， for I had helped to widen the interval；and again he laughed long and loud， and with more reason than before.  He manoeuvred so cunningly that I could not get within half a dozen rods of him.  Each time， when he came to the surface，turning his head this way and that， he cooly surveyed the water and the land， and apparently chose his course so that he might come up where there was the widest expanse of water and at the greatest distance from the boat.  It was surprising how quickly he made up his mind and put his resolve into execution.  He led me at once to the widest part of the pond， and could not be driven from it.  While he was thinking one thing in his brain， I was endeavoring to divine his thought in mine.  It was a pretty game， played on the smooth surface of the pond， a man against a loon.  Suddenly your adversary's checker disappears beneath the board， and the problem is to place yours nearest to where his will appear again.  Sometimes he would come up unexpectedly on the opposite side of me， having apparently passed directly under the boat.  So long-winded was he and so unweariable， that when he had swum farthest he would immediately plunge again， nevertheless； and then no wit could divine where in the deep pond， beneath the smooth surface， he might be speeding his way like a fish， for he had time and ability to visit the bottom of the pond in its deepest part.  It is said that loons have been caught in the New York lakes eighty feet beneath the surface， with hooks set for trout ―― though Walden is deeper than that.  How surprised must the fishes be to see this ungainly visitor from another sphere speeding his way amid their schools！  Yet he appeared to know his course as surely under water as on the surface，and swam much faster there.  Once or twice I saw a ripple where he approached the surface， just put his head out to reconnoitre， and instantly dived again.  I found that it was as well for me to rest on my oars and wait his reappearing as to endeavor to calculate where he would rise； for again and again， when I was straining my eyes over the surface one way， I would suddenly be startled by his unearthly laugh behind me.  But why， after displaying so much cunning， did he invariably betray himself the moment he came up by that loud laugh？  Did not his white breast enough betray him？  He was indeed a silly loon， I thought.  I could commonly hear the splash of the water when he came up， and so also detected him.  But after an hour he seemed as fresh as ever， dived as willingly， and swam yet farther than at first.  It was surprising to see how serenely he sailed off with unruffled breast when he came to the surface， doing all the work with his webbed feet beneath.  His usual note was this demoniac laughter， yet somewhat like that of a water-fowl； but occasionally， when he had balked me most successfully and come up a long way off， he uttered a long-drawn unearthly howl， probably more like that of a wolf than any bird； as when a beast puts his muzzle to the ground and deliberately howls. This was his looning ―― perhaps the wildest sound that is ever heard here， making the woods ring far and wide.  I concluded that he laughed in derision of my efforts， confident of his own resources. Though the sky was by this time overcast， the pond was so smooth that I could see where he broke the surface when I did not hear him. His white breast， the stillness of the air， and the smoothness of the water were all against him.  At length having come up fifty rods off， he uttered one of those prolonged howls， as if calling on the god of loons to aid him， and immediately there came a wind from the east and rippled the surface， and filled the whole air with misty rain， and I was impressed as if it were the prayer of the loon answered， and his god was angry with me； and so I left him disappearing far away on the tumultuous surface.

　　For hours， in fall days， I watched the ducks cunningly tack and veer and hold the middle of the pond， far from the sportsman； tricks which they will have less need to practise in Louisiana bayous. When compelled to rise they would sometimes circle round and round and over the pond at a considerable height， from which they could easily see to other ponds and the river， like black motes in the sky； and， when I thought they had gone off thither long since， they would settle down by a slanting flight of a quarter of a mile on to a distant part which was left free； but what beside safety they got by sailing in the middle of Walden I do not know， unless they love its water for the same reason that I do.

　　柯爾比和斯班司告訴我們，螞蟻的戰爭很久以來就備受稱道，大戰役的日期也曾經在史冊上有過記載，雖然據他們說，近代作家中大約只有胡勃似乎是目擊了螞蟻大戰的，他們說，“依尼斯。薛爾維烏斯曾經描寫了，在一枝梨樹樹干上進行的一場大螞蟻對小螞蟻的異常堅韌的戰斗以后”，接下來添注道――“‘這一場戰斗發生于教皇攸琴尼斯第四治下，觀察家是著名律師尼古拉斯。畢斯托利安西斯，他很忠實地把這場戰爭的全部經過轉述了出來。’還有一場類似的大螞蟻和小螞蟻的戰斗是俄拉烏斯。瑪格納斯記錄的，結果小螞蟻戰勝了，據說戰后它們埋葬了小螞蟻士兵的尸首，可是對它們的戰死的大敵人則暴尸不埋，聽任飛鳥去享受。這一件戰史發生于克利斯蒂恩第二被逐出瑞典之前。”至于我這次目擊的戰爭，發生于波爾克總統任期之內，時候在韋勃司特制訂的逃亡奴隸法案通過之前五年。

　　許多村中的牛，行動遲緩，只配在儲藏食物的地窖里追逐烏龜的，卻以它那種笨重的軀體來到森林中跑跑跳跳了，它的主人是不知道的，它嗅嗅老狐貍的窟穴和土撥鼠的洞，毫無結果；也許是些瘦小的惡狗給帶路進來的，它們在森林中靈活地穿來穿去，林中鳥獸對這種惡狗自然有一種恐懼；現在老牛遠落在它那導游者的后面了，向樹上一些小松鼠狂叫，那些松鼠就是躲在上面仔細觀察它的，然后它緩緩跑開，那笨重的軀體把樹枝都壓彎了，它自以為在追蹤一些迷了路的老鼠。有一次，我很奇怪地發現了一只貓，散步在湖邊的石子岸上，它們很少會離家走這么遠的，我和貓都感到驚奇了。然而，就是整天都躺在地氈上的最馴服的貓，一到森林里卻也好像回了老家，從她的偷偷摸摸的狡猾的步伐上可以看出，她是比土生的森林禽獸更土生的。有一次，在森林揀漿果時我遇到了一只貓，帶領了她的一群小貓，那些小貓全是野性未馴的，像它們的母親一樣地弓起了背脊，向我兇惡地噴吐口水。在我遷入森林之前不多幾年，在林肯那兒離湖最近的吉利安。倍克田莊內，有一只所謂“有翅膀的貓”。一八四二年六月，我專程去訪問她（我不能確定這頭貓是雌的還是雄的，所以我采用了這一般稱呼貓的女性的代名詞），她已經像她往常那樣，去森林獵食去了，據她的女主人告訴我，她是一年多以前的四月里來到這附近的，后來就由她收容到家里；貓身深棕灰色，喉部有個白點，腳也是白的，尾巴很大，毛茸茸的像狐貍。到了冬天，她的毛越長越密，向兩旁披掛，形成了兩條十至十二英寸長，兩英寸半闊的帶子，在她的下巴那兒也好像有了一個暖手筒，上面的毛比較松，下面卻像氈一樣纏結著，一到春天，這些附著物就落掉了。他們給了我一對她的“翅膀”，我至今還保存著。翅膀的外面似乎并沒有一層膜。有人以為這貓的血統一部分是飛松鼠，或別的什么野獸，因為這并不是不可能的，據博物學家說，貂和家貓支配，可以產生許多這樣的雜種。如果我要養貓的話，這倒正好是我愿意養的貓，因為一個詩人的馬既然能插翅飛跑，他的貓為什么不能飛呢？秋天里，潛水鳥（Colymbus gla clalis）像往常一樣來了，在湖里脫毛并且洗澡，我還沒有起身，森林里已響起了它的狂放的笑聲。一聽到它已經來到，磨坊水閘上的全部獵人都出動了，有的坐馬車，有的步行，兩兩三三，帶著獵槍和子彈，還有望遠鏡。他們行來，像秋天的樹葉颯颯然穿過林中，一只潛水鳥至少有十個獵者。有的放哨在這一邊湖岸，有的站崗在那一邊湖岸，因為這可憐的鳥不能夠四處同時出現；如果它從這里潛水下去，它一定會從那邊上來的。

　　可是，那陽春十月的風吹起來了，吹得樹葉沙沙作響，湖面起了皺紋，再聽不到也看不到潛水鳥了，雖然它的敵人用望遠鏡搜索水面，盡管槍聲在林中震蕩，鳥兒的蹤跡都沒有了。水波大量地涌起，憤怒地沖到岸上，它們和水禽是同一陣線的，我們的愛好打獵的人們只得空手回到鎮上店里，還去干他們的未完的事務。不過，他們的事務常常是很成功的。黎明，我到湖上汲水的時候，我常常看到這種王者風度的潛水鳥駛出我的小灣，相距不過數桿。如果我想坐船追上它，看它如何活動，它就潛下水去，全身消失，從此不再看見，有時候要到當天的下午才出來。可是，在水面上，我還是有法子對付它的。

　　它常常在一陣雨中飛去。有一個靜謐的十月下午，我劃船在北岸，因為正是這種日子，潛水鳥會像乳草的柔毛似的出現在湖上。我正四顧都找不到潛水鳥，突然間卻有一頭，從湖岸上出來，向湖心游去，在我面前只幾桿之遠，狂笑一陣，引起了我的注意。我劃槳追去，它便潛入水中，但是等它冒出來，我卻愈加接近了。它又潛入水中，這次我把方向估計錯誤了，它再次冒出來時，距離我已經五十桿。這樣的距離卻是我自己造成的；它又大聲嘩笑了半天，這次當然笑得更有理由了。它這樣靈活地行動，矯若游龍，我無法進入距離它五六桿的地方。每一次，它冒到水面上，頭這邊那邊地旋轉，冷靜地考察了湖水和大地，顯然在挑選它的路線，以便浮起來時，恰在湖面最開闊、距離船舶又最遠的地點。驚人的是它運籌決策十分迅速，而一經決定就立即執行。它立刻把我誘入最浩淼的水域，我卻不能把它驅入湖水之一角了，當它腦中正想著什么的時候，我也努力在腦中測度它的思想。這真是一個美麗的棋局，在一個波平如鏡的水上，一人一鳥正在對弈。突然對方把它的棋子下在棋盤下面了，問題便是把你的棋子下在它下次出現時最接近它的地方。有時它出乎意料地在我對面升上水面，顯然從我的船底穿過了。它的一口氣真長，它又不知疲倦，然而，等它游到最遠處時，立刻又潛到水下；任何智慧都無法測度，在這樣平滑的水面下，它能在這樣深的湖水里的什么地方急泅如魚，因為它有能力以及時間去到最深處的湖底作訪問。據說在紐約湖中，深八十英尺的地方，潛水鳥曾被捕鰍魚的鉤子鉤住。然而瓦爾登是深得多了。我想水中群魚一定驚奇不置了，從另一世界來的這個不速之客能在它們的中間潛來潛去！然而它似乎深識水性，水下認路和水上一樣，并且在水下泅泳得還格外迅疾。有一兩次，我看到它接近水面時激起的水花，剛把它的腦袋探出來觀察了一下，立刻又潛沒了。我覺得我既可以估計它下次出現的地點，也不妨停下槳來等它自行出水，因為一次又一次，當我向著一個方向望穿了秋水時，我卻突然聽到它在我背后發出一聲怪笑，叫我大吃一驚，可是為什么這樣狡猾地作弄了我之后，每次鉆出水面，一定放聲大笑，使得它自己形跡敗露呢？它的自色的胸脯還不夠使它被人發現嗎？我想，它真是一只愚蠢的潛水鳥。我一般都能聽到它出水時的拍水之聲，所以也能偵察到它的所在。可是，這樣玩了一個小時，它富有生氣、興致勃勃，不減當初，游得比一開始時還要遠。它鉆出水面又莊嚴地游走了，胸羽一絲不亂，它是在水底下就用自己的腳蹼撫平了它胸上的羽毛的。它通常的聲音是這惡魔般的笑聲，有點像水鳥的叫聲，但是有時，它成功地躲開了我，潛水到了老遠的地方再鉆出水面，它就發出一聲長長的怪叫，不似鳥叫，更似狼嗥；正像一只野獸的嘴，咻咻地啃著地面而發出呼號。這是潛水鳥之音，這樣狂野的音響在這一帶似乎還從沒聽見過，整個森林都被震動了。我想它是用笑聲來嘲笑我白費力氣，并且相信它自己是足智多謀的。此時天色雖然陰沉，湖面卻很平靜，我只看到它冒出水來，還未聽到它的聲音。他的胸毛雪白，空氣肅穆，湖水平靜，這一切本來都是不利于它的。最后，在離我五十桿的地方，它又發出了這樣的一聲長嘯，仿佛它在召喚潛水鳥之神出來援助它，立刻從東方吹來一陣鳳，吹皺了湖水，而天地間都是蒙蒙細雨，還夾帶著雨點，我的印象是，好像潛水鳥的召喚得到了響應，它的神生了我的氣，于是我離開它，聽憑它在洶涌的波浪上任意遠揚了。

　　秋天里，我常常一連幾個小時觀望野鴨如何狡猾地游來游去，始終在湖中央，遠離開那些獵人；這種陣勢，它們是不必在路易斯安那的長沼練習的。在必須起飛時，它們飛到相當的高度，盤旋不已，像天空中的黑點。它們從這樣的高度，想必可以看到別的湖沼和河流了；可是當我以為它們早已經飛到了那里，它們卻突然之間，斜飛而下，飛了約有四分之一英里的光景，又降落到了遠處一個比較不受驚擾的區域；可是它們飛到瓦爾登湖中心來，除了安全起見，還有沒有別的理由呢？我不知道，也許它們愛這一片湖水，理由跟我的是一樣的吧。

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