Perhaps it is that the eyes of some of them have not as high a power of differentiation as ours.

Perhaps it is that when a fellow is a long time still they think he's dead.
We'll have to let the scientists work that out for us.

But if you go on the way you're beginning (and I'm bound to say you're doing very well indeed, considering that you're not _very_ big), you'll often have occasion to observe that some of the wild creatures, otherwise no fools, are more afraid of a bit of colored rag fluttering in the wind than of an able-bodied man who sits staring right at them, if only he doesn't stir a finger.

But only let him wiggle that finger, his very littlest one, and off they'll be." The Child put his hand behind his back and wiggled his little finger gently, smiling to think what sharp eyes it would take to see _that_ motion.

But his Uncle, as if divining his thoughts, went on to say: "It's not as if those sly, shy watchers were all in front of you, you know.