He came upon a valley
(он натолкнулся на лощину;He came upon a valley where rock ptarmigan rose on whirring wings from the ledges and muskegs. Ker – ker – ker was the cry they made. He threw stones at them, but could not hit them. He placed his pack on the ground and stalked them as a cat stalks a sparrow. The sharp rocks cut through his pants’ legs till his knees left a trail of blood; but the hurt was lost in the hurt of his hunger. He squirmed over the wet moss, saturating his clothes and chilling his body; but he was not aware of it, so great was his fever for food. And always the ptarmigan rose, whirring, before him, till their ker – ker – ker became a mock to him, and he cursed them and cried aloud at them with their own cry.