The Carrion and Hooded Crows also attack hares and rabbits. “Whilst walking one morning along the Deveron with a friend, our attention was attracted by what seemed to us to be the faint cries of a child in distress. On looking in the direction from which the sounds proceeded, we beheld two crows pursuing and tormenting a hare, by every now and then pouncing down upon it. Each blow seemed to be aimed at the head; and each time that one was given the hare screamed piteously. The blows soon had the effect of stupifying the creature. Sometimes they felled it to the ground. We eventually lost sight of the crows, but doubtless they would at last kill and devour the hare. I remember, while out on the hills at Boyndie, witnessing another though a less daring attack. Concealed amongst some trees and bushes, waiting for a Cuckoo which I expected to pass, I observed a half-grown rabbit emerge from some whins, and begin to frolic about close by. Presently down pops a Hoodie, and approaches the rabbit, whisking, prancing, and jumping. He seemed to be most friendly, courteous, and humoursome to the little rabbit. All of a sudden, however, as if he meant to finish the joke with a ride, he mounts the back of the rabbit. Up springs the latter, and away he runs. But short was his race. A few sturdy blows about the head, from the bill of the crow, laid him dead in a few seconds.”
By the year 1858 Edward had accumulated another splendid collection. It was his third, and probably his best. The preserved birds were in splendid order. Most of them were in their natural condition—flying, or fluttering, pecking or feeding,—with their nests, their eggs, and sometimes their young. He had also a large collection of insects—including many rare beetles,—together with numerous Fishes, Crustaceans, Zoophytes, Molluscs, Fossils, and Plants.
Although Edward still continued his midnight explorations, he felt that he must soon give them up. Lying out at night cannot be long endured in this country. It is not the cold, so much as the damp, that rheumatises the muscles and chills the bones. When going out at night, Edward was often advised to take whisky with him. He was told that if he would drink it when he got wet or cold, it would refresh and sustain him, and otherwise do him a great deal of good. Those who knew of his night-wanderings, wondered how he could ever have endured the night air and been kept alive without the liberal use of whisky. But Edward always refused. He never took a drop of whisky with him,—indeed, he never drank it either at home or abroad. “I believe,” he says, “that if I had indulged in drink, or even had I used it at all on these occasions, I could never have stood the cold, the wet, and the other privations to which I was exposed. As for my food, it mainly consisted of good oatmeal cakes. It tasted very sweet, and was washed down with water from the nearest spring. Sometimes, when I could afford it, my wife boiled an egg or two, and these were my only luxuries. But, as I have already said, water was my only drink.”