瓦尔登湖:Brute Neighbors4
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.
柯尔比和斯班司告诉我们，蚂蚁的战争很久以来就备受称道，大战役的日期也曾经在史册上有过记载，虽然据他们说，近代作家中大约只有胡勃似乎是目击了蚂蚁大战的，他们说，“依尼斯。薛尔维乌斯曾经描写了，在一枝梨树树干上进行的一场大蚂蚁对小蚂蚁的异常坚韧的战斗以后”，接下来添注道――“‘这一场战斗发生于教皇攸琴尼斯第四治下，观察家是著名律师尼古拉斯。毕斯托利安西斯，他很忠实地把这场战争的全部经过转述了出来。’还有一场类似的大蚂蚁和小蚂蚁的战斗是俄拉乌斯。玛格纳斯记录的，结果小蚂蚁战胜了，据说战后它们埋葬了小蚂蚁士兵的尸首，可是对它们的战死的大敌人则暴尸不埋，听任飞鸟去享受。这一件战史发生于克利斯蒂恩第二被逐出瑞典之前。”至于我这次目击的战争，发生于波尔克总统任期之内，时候在韦勃司特制订的逃亡奴隶法案通过之前五年。
许多村中的牛，行动迟缓，只配在储藏食物的地窖里追逐乌龟的，却以它那种笨重的躯体来到森林中跑跑跳跳了，它的主人是不知道的，它嗅嗅老狐狸的窟穴和土拨鼠的洞，毫无结果；也许是些瘦小的恶狗给带路进来的，它们在森林中灵活地穿来穿去，林中鸟兽对这种恶狗自然有一种恐惧；现在老牛远落在它那导游者的后面了，向树上一些小松鼠狂叫，那些松鼠就是躲在上面仔细观察它的，然后它缓缓跑开，那笨重的躯体把树枝都压弯了，它自以为在追踪一些迷了路的老鼠。有一次，我很奇怪地发现了一只猫，散步在湖边的石子岸上，它们很少会离家走这么远的，我和猫都感到惊奇了。然而，就是整天都躺在地毡上的最驯服的猫，一到森林里却也好像回了老家，从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兽更土生的。有一次，在森林拣浆果时我遇到了一只猫，带领了她的一群小猫，那些小猫全是野性未驯的，像它们的母亲一样地弓起了背脊，向我凶恶地喷吐口水。在我迁入森林之前不多几年，在林肯那儿离湖最近的吉利安。倍克田庄内，有一只所谓“有翅膀的猫”。一八四二年六月，我专程去访问她（我不能确定这头猫是雌的还是雄的，所以我采用了这一般称呼猫的女性的代名词），她已经像她往常那样，去森林猎食去了，据她的女主人告诉我，她是一年多以前的四月里来到这附近的，后来就由她收容到家里；猫身深棕灰色，喉部有个白点，脚也是白的，尾巴很大，毛茸茸的像狐狸。到了冬天，她的毛越长越密，向两旁披挂，形成了两条十至十二英寸长，两英寸半阔的带子，在她的下巴那儿也好像有了一个暖手筒，上面的毛比较松，下面却像毡一样缠结着，一到春天，这些附着物就落掉了。他们给了我一对她的“翅膀”，我至今还保存着。翅膀的外面似乎并没有一层膜。有人以为这猫的血统一部分是飞松鼠，或别的什么野兽，因为这并不是不可能的，据博物学家说，貂和家猫支配，可以产生许多这样的杂种。如果我要养猫的话，这倒正好是我愿意养的猫，因为一个诗人的马既然能插翅飞跑，他的猫为什么不能飞呢？秋天里，潜水鸟（Colymbus gla clalis）像往常一样来了，在湖里脱毛并且洗澡，我还没有起身，森林里已响起了它的狂放的笑声。一听到它已经来到，磨坊水闸上的全部猎人都出动了，有的坐马车，有的步行，两两三三，带着猎枪和子弹，还有望远镜。他们行来，像秋天的树叶飒飒然穿过林中，一只潜水鸟至少有十个猎者。有的放哨在这一边湖岸，有的站岗在那一边湖岸，因为这可怜的鸟不能够四处同时出现；如果它从这里潜水下去，它一定会从那边上来的。
可是，那阳春十月的风吹起来了，吹得树叶沙沙作响，湖面起了皱纹，再听不到也看不到潜水鸟了，虽然它的敌人用望远镜搜索水面，尽管枪声在林中震荡，鸟儿的踪迹都没有了。水波大量地涌起，愤怒地冲到岸上，它们和水禽是同一阵线的，我们的爱好打猎的人们只得空手回到镇上店里，还去干他们的未完的事务。不过，他们的事务常常是很成功的。黎明，我到湖上汲水的时候，我常常看到这种王者风度的潜水鸟驶出我的小湾，相距不过数杆。如果我想坐船追上它，看它如何活动，它就潜下水去，全身消失，从此不再看见，有时候要到当天的下午才出来。可是，在水面上，我还是有法子对付它的。
它常常在一阵雨中飞去。有一个静谧的十月下午，我划船在北岸，因为正是这种日子，潜水鸟会像乳草的柔毛似的出现在湖上。我正四顾都找不到潜水鸟，突然间却有一头，从湖岸上出来，向湖心游去，在我面前只几杆之远，狂笑一阵，引起了我的注意。我划桨追去，它便潜入水中，但是等它冒出来，我却愈加接近了。它又潜入水中，这次我把方向估计错误了，它再次冒出来时，距离我已经五十杆。这样的距离却是我自己造成的；它又大声哗笑了半天，这次当然笑得更有理由了。它这样灵活地行动，矫若游龙，我无法进入距离它五六杆的地方。每一次，它冒到水面上，头这边那边地旋转，冷静地考察了湖水和大地，显然在挑选它的路线，以便浮起来时，恰在湖面最开阔、距离船舶又最远的地点。惊人的是它运筹决策十分迅速，而一经决定就立即执行。它立刻把我诱入最浩淼的水域，我却不能把它驱入湖水之一角了，当它脑中正想着什么的时候，我也努力在脑中测度它的思想。这真是一个美丽的棋局，在一个波平如镜的水上，一人一鸟正在对弈。突然对方把它的棋子下在棋盘下面了，问题便是把你的棋子下在它下次出现时最接近它的地方。有时它出乎意料地在我对面升上水面，显然从我的船底穿过了。它的一口气真长，它又不知疲倦，然而，等它游到最远处时，立刻又潜到水下；任何智慧都无法测度，在这样平滑的水面下，它能在这样深的湖水里的什么地方急泅如鱼，因为它有能力以及时间去到最深处的湖底作访问。据说在纽约湖中，深八十英尺的地方，潜水鸟曾被捕鳅鱼的钩子钩住。然而瓦尔登是深得多了。我想水中群鱼一定惊奇不置了，从另一世界来的这个不速之客能在它们的中间潜来潜去！然而它似乎深识水性，水下认路和水上一样，并且在水下泅泳得还格外迅疾。有一两次，我看到它接近水面时激起的水花，刚把它的脑袋探出来观察了一下，立刻又潜没了。我觉得我既可以估计它下次出现的地点，也不妨停下桨来等它自行出水，因为一次又一次，当我向着一个方向望穿了秋水时，我却突然听到它在我背后发出一声怪笑，叫我大吃一惊，可是为什么这样狡猾地作弄了我之后，每次钻出水面，一定放声大笑，使得它自己形迹败露呢？它的自色的胸脯还不够使它被人发现吗？我想，它真是一只愚蠢的潜水鸟。我一般都能听到它出水时的拍水之声，所以也能侦察到它的所在。可是，这样玩了一个小时，它富有生气、兴致勃勃，不减当初，游得比一开始时还要远。它钻出水面又庄严地游走了，胸羽一丝不乱，它是在水底下就用自己的脚蹼抚平了它胸上的羽毛的。它通常的声音是这恶魔般的笑声，有点像水鸟的叫声，但是有时，它成功地躲开了我，潜水到了老远的地方再钻出水面，它就发出一声长长的怪叫，不似鸟叫，更似狼嗥；正像一只野兽的嘴，咻咻地啃着地面而发出呼号。这是潜水鸟之音，这样狂野的音响在这一带似乎还从没听见过，整个森林都被震动了。我想它是用笑声来嘲笑我白费力气，并且相信它自己是足智多谋的。此时天色虽然阴沉，湖面却很平静，我只看到它冒出水来，还未听到它的声音。他的胸毛雪白，空气肃穆，湖水平静，这一切本来都是不利于它的。最后，在离我五十杆的地方，它又发出了这样的一声长啸，仿佛它在召唤潜水鸟之神出来援助它，立刻从东方吹来一阵凤，吹皱了湖水，而天地间都是蒙蒙细雨，还夹带着雨点，我的印象是，好像潜水鸟的召唤得到了响应，它的神生了我的气，于是我离开它，听凭它在汹涌的波浪上任意远扬了。
秋天里，我常常一连几个小时观望野鸭如何狡猾地游来游去，始终在湖中央，远离开那些猎人；这种阵势，它们是不必在路易斯安那的长沼练习的。在必须起飞时，它们飞到相当的高度，盘旋不已，像天空中的黑点。它们从这样的高度，想必可以看到别的湖沼和河流了；可是当我以为它们早已经飞到了那里，它们却突然之间，斜飞而下，飞了约有四分之一英里的光景，又降落到了远处一个比较不受惊扰的区域；可是它们飞到瓦尔登湖中心来，除了安全起见，还有没有别的理由呢？我不知道，也许它们爱这一片湖水，理由跟我的是一样的吧。
英语 文学 散文本文地址：http://www.dioenglish.com/writing/essay/48331.html
