In the first attempt, a stick that had been put by for the thatcher, but
which he had not yet split, was cut short and sharpened for the plug
that prevents the animal carrying away the wire when snared. This is
driven into the earth; at the projecting end a notch was cut to hold the
string attached to the end of the wire away from the run.

A smaller stick supported the wire above the ground; this latter only
just sufficiently thrust into the sward to stand firmly upright. Willow
was used for this at first; but it is a feeble wood: it split too much,
or bent and gave way instead of holding the wire in its place. The best
for the purpose we found were the nut-tree rods that shoot up among the
hazel thickets, no larger than the shaft of an arrow, and almost as
straight. A slit about half an inch deep was made in the upper end, and
in this slit the shank of the wire was sunk. Once or twice the upright
was peeled; but this was a mistake, for the white wand was then too
conspicuous. The bark should be left on.

Three copper wires twisted tight formed the snare itself; we twisted
them like the strands of a rope, thinking it would give more strength.
The wire projected horizontally, the loop curling downwards. It was
first set up at a spot where a very broad and much-worn run--more like a
footpath than a rabbit track--forked into several lesser runs, and at
about five yards from the hedge. But though adjusted, as we thought,
with the utmost nicety, no rabbit would put his neck into it--not even
in the darkness of the night. By day they all played round it in perfect
safety.

After waiting some time it was removed and reset just over a hole--the
loop close to the opening. It looked scarcely possible for a rabbit to
creep out without being caught, the loop being enlarged to correspond