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The wild-fowl and sea-

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Wm. Fo" Nary’s
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RARE BOOK HOP,
4376 OLIVE ST,,

ST. LOUIS, = MO.

THE WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL

OF

GREAT BRITAIN

DoTTEREL,

THE

WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL’

OF

GREAT BRITAIN

BY

A SON OF THE MARSHES” 2/4777!

AUTHOR OF “ON SURREY HILLS,” ‘WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM ”
' We

man eed
peer ;
_ EDITED BY J. A.‘OWEN Yager

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY BRYAN HOOK

LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL, Lp.
1895 _

[Ad rights reserved]

OL
670
G7
Tes

E 6542

Ricuarp Cray & Sons, LrmiTEep,
‘ Lonvon & Buncay.

PREFACE

My childhood and youth were spent on the fore-
shores and in the marsh-lands of North Kent, where
I associated freely with the shore-shooters and the
fishing-folk as one of themselves. At the same
time some of the best standard works of that day
were open to me through connections of my own.

The sketches of character given are from the
life. There was a quaintness and an originality
about our marsh-land folks that I have never met
with elsewhere.

Although I no longer handle a gun— having
exchanged it for a field-glass—I have never been
out of touch with the old friends of my youth, and
specimens of the birds have been sent to me fresh
from the tide, and have Jain before me as I wrote

these chapters on wild-fowl and sea-fowl.

A SON OF THE MARSHES.

VII.
VIII.

XI.
XIIL
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIIL
XIX.
XX,
XXI.
XXII,

XXIII.
XXIV.
XXV.

CONTENTS

THE GREAT AND LITTLE BUSTARDS ee aoe
THE STONE CURLEW OR THICK-KNEE eee eee
PLOVERS tee aes ae oes vee vas
THE RUFF AND THE REEVE Coie vee vee
SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING eee eee
GREAT CURLEW AND WHIMBREL ... tas vee
MORE WADERS eee aes nae tee tee
WOODCOCK AND SNIPE wee wee ora eee
THE COMMON HERON pee a8 sae one
THE COMMON AND THE LITTLE BITTERN... wee
THE WHITE SPOONBILL eee aoe eee aes
THE RAIL FAMILY ... aoe ons eee one

WILD SWANS... see eee vee aoe ase
OUR WILD GEESE... oan ove ees ase
THE SHELD-DUCK ae aoe eee aoe wee
THE COMMON WILD DUCK ... one one oes
THE TEAL AND GARGANEY ... wee ase eee

THE PINTAIL DUCK AND THE SHOVELLER ess
MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY ose eee
THE GOOSANDER AND THE PIED SMEW ... eon
THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS eee eee ves
THE GUILLEMOT, LITTLE AUK, RAZOR-BILL, AND

PUFFIN ... wae aes one eee eee
DIVERS AND GREBES ase eos eee ase
CORMORANTS AND GANNET te nie oe
THE GULL FAMILY ... ee ods atte ane
INDEX aes eee eas wee vee oes

117
123
132
134
161
164
176
183
208
220
229
252
262

284
290
393
311
325

Lisl OF ILLUSTRATIONS

DOTTEREL... ante se ae ee sie Frontispiece
STONE CURLEW ... eis 8 i .. Lo face p. 14
COMMON RINGED DOTTEREL ... iis ue bso C55 24
CURLEW ... ae a apts ere were ee 65
GREENSHANK sy Sais ae iy hae Se. 45 78
HERON AND FALCONS... wih ye ae fh. ap. IDES
BERNACLE GEESE... ses ‘sea siete isi ae 167
SHELD-DUCK ae is ee ies ee ee ee
TEAL—A FAMILY PARTY ... at es | GS Ce
TUFTED DUCK... wa ase ae om 65g, 2B
GREAT NORTHERN DIVER on 8 ss gy aS GOO

GREAT BLACK-BACKED GULL... ae ee ee ee

THE WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL

OF

GREAT BRITAIN

CHAPTER I

THE GREAT AND LITTLE BUSTARDS

Tuts noble bird, which was once indigenous to
the plains and wastes of this country, has been
exterminated asa resident, and no consolation can
be derived from this mournful fact in any shape
or way. The feathered coursers of the Yorkshire
wolds and the Wiltshire Downs are gone; the
lands that they once frequented remain pretty much
as they were, but the Bustards are gone, and taking
into consideration the means and ways employed for
their destruction, the fact can hardly be a matter of
wonder.

I have some old records by me, relating to the
middle and latter part of the ‘seventeenth century
and the early part of the eighteenth, They tell of

B

2 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

the game and wild-fowl, as well as fish, which were
brought to the markets by those huge carriers’
wagons that moved all over England,—or those
parts of it where there were roads fit for travelling
over, not simply tracks,—horsed with the finest
draught animals that could be procured, bred ex-
pressly for their purpose, just as others were for the
mail and ordinary coaches that have passed away
within my own time.

I have seen deliveries of game and fowl made to
the wagons and coaches in those old days. A horse
or donkey would bring the consignment from some
out-of-the-way place and wait by the side of the
main road with it until the coach or wagon came
along. Notime or words were wasted ; almost as
quickly as I could write a few lines about it the
coach or wagon was on its way again. Even in
“those slow times,” as one hears wise and ex-
perienced sages of the ripe age of twenty-five of
the present day call them, they had a system, and
a good honest one. If you expected a thing you
generally got it, in good order, at the time you
looked for it. The coaches and wagons were timed
to arrive at certain places, setting aside accidents
or snow-drifts, and as a rule they could be depended
upon.

Thirty miles south from Dorking, and less from
that westward, will place us in some of the old
haunts of the Bustard, which are visited even at the
present time by solitary members of the species.
Their old coursing grounds are lonely and beautiful

THE GREAT AND LITTLE BUSTARDS

as of old. Plain country may look perfectly flat,
but even the vast table-lands on the crests of the hills
are not as they appear, though’ the rifts in them are
not visible until you come on them as you travel over
the short green turf, which is sheep-fed and rabbit-
nibbled until it looks almost like green pile velvet.

The traditions of the Bustard have not passed
away. A lonely public-house on the Downs is still
standing which has a Bustard painted on its sign-
board. There I have heard the old men mention
what their fathers have heard and told them. Some
had actually, so they said, seen small flocks of the
Bustard when they were young. From what they
let drop in the course of the conversation I should
certainly say that the fathers of those old men had not
only seen such things, but had themselves assisted
in their capture. Running them down in moulting
time was incidentally mentioned. Now this is quite
practical; there is no exaggeration here, for the
Bustard drops nearly all its flight-feathers at one
time, and then so far as flying goes the great bird is
helpless, having only its swift legs and feet to rely
on, and its self-protective instincts. The feathers
dropped by the birds as they wandered over their
wide, bare, grassy feeding-grounds would tell the
tale to those keen-eyed rangers of the plain; just
as plainly as do our domestic geese when they drop
their feathers in the moulting time on the commons
they graze over.

First-class greyhounds and lurchers have ever
been in favour in this country; what more easy,

4 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

when the Bustards frequented here, than to run
them down? This was just what was done. No
one visited the Bustards’ haunts at that time except
the shepherds, who lived a half-nomad life, one that.
was almost as wild as the birds they saw around
them, that they did their best to capture at times,
and those whose business compelled them to pass
along the lonely roads that ran through and over
the plains and heaths they frequented.

At that time you would have been quite as likely
to fall in with a highwayman as you would with a
Bustard. The mail-coaches of course carried arms,
so did some of their passengers, and those, too, who
travelled swiftly with a carriage and four horses, on
business of urgent import. These haunts had a bad
reputation, and if all I have been able to gather is
true, they deserved it. Some rather unpleasant trans-
mitted traits yet show themselves, which would fully
bear out what I have hinted at.

There was a market at that time for Bustards,
and a supply. Law and order, as we know them
now, were unknown, or if known, not regarded.
The forefathers of the people now scattered about
there would not be denied, if they thought they
wanted anything; the thought was at once acted
on. Some places I know well where I would not
stop longer than I was obliged to, even now. Yet
if you wish to see real life you must go to wild
places for it.

But you must go out of the United Kingdom if
you want to see the Bustard at home now, to the

THE GREAT AND LITTLE BUSTARDS 5

wilder parts of Spain. We gather this from the
information gained in their haunts by two well-
known authors on ornithological matters.

Our South Downs were much favoured by the
Bustards. You may yet meet some ancient shepherd
there who will tell you he has seen one or two
stray visitants, or what is far more possible, he will
tell you what his father has told him years ago. If
they find you interested in their tales of the hills,
past and present, you may safely rely on the accuracy
of the information these old men give you. They
do not get a chat with a stranger very often up
there.

The Bustard feeds chiefly on grain and green
food of various kinds, trefoils, charlock, rape, etc.
The advance of cultivation has had something to
do with the extinction of the Bustard, but not every-
thing. Bustards have been killed off, too, in ways
I need not mention; for those who killed them
have left records behind them on that subject.
They would, however, be here now, if those stray
birds that tried to make settlements from time to
time had been left unmolested. So-called scientists
and egg-collectors have much to answer for.

The Little Bustard can only be considered as a
rare straggler; those eggs of the bird which I have
seen were procured on the Continent. As the bird
has not nested in this country, we need not describe
them. In its haunts it is considered to be one of
the most wary birds that the shooter goes in search
of. It is far more cautious than its large relative,

6 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

and its flight quicker. When the cock plays up in
pairing time it is much like the play of the turkey-
cock; all his throat and breast feathers are bluffed
out, showing the light and dark bands to perfection.

THE GREAT BUSTARD.
(Otis tarda.)

Mate.—The bill is light brownish-yellow ; iris
hazel. The head and upper neck all round are a
light: greyish-blue; on the upper part of the head
is a brown band. The long moustache feathers are
white ; fore-part of breast greyish-blue fading into
white. The principal quills are brownish-black with
white shafts ; the outer and secondary coverts, and
some of the secondary quills, are white. The back
and sides reddish-yellow, spotted and barred with
black; tail white for a part of its length, then
yellowish-red with two black bands; legs and feet
are light brown. The bird’s length from bill to
end of tail is from forty, forty-three, to forty-eight
inches.

The female has the band on the head lighter,
the grey of the head and neck darker; the
moustache feathers are wanting; in other respects
her plumage is like that of the male. Her length
from bill to end of tail is from thirty-two to thirty-
four and thirty-five inches.

The nest is only a slight hollow scraped or
trampled by the female; sometimes it is in open

THE GREAT AND LITTLE BUSTARDS 7

situations, at other times concealed, or partly so,
by the surrounding vegetation found in the magni-
ficent bird’s haunts. The eggs, generally two in
number, are pale olive in ground-colour, blotched
with reddish-brown and grey.

THE LITTLE BUSTARD.
(Otis tetrl.)

Matze.—The bill is brown, greyish-blue at the
base; the iris reddish-yellow. Upper part of the
head and the nape pale reddish-yellow, variegated
with brownish-black. The throat and sides of the
head are a light greyish-blue; a narrow ring of
white on the neck is succeeded by a broad collar
of black, below which is a half-ring of white, and
another of black. The upper parts are pale reddish-
yellow waved with black. The edge of the wing,
outer secondary coverts, base and tips of the quills,
with all the lower parts of the body, are white.
The tail is white at the base and tip, the other
portion is pale yellow waved with black, having
three distinct bands of the latter colour; legs and
feet light brownish-grey. Length, from bill to end
of tail, eighteen inches.

The female is about the same size as the male,
but differs in not having the black markings of the
male bird on the neck so conspicuous. The upper
part of head, its side, and the neck all round pale

8 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

reddish-yellow, variegated with dark brown, each
feather having a broad middle line, and several
bars. Throat, yellowish-white ; the upper parts are
mottled as in the male, but the markings are larger.
The lower parts are yellowish-white, with black
lines on the breast and sides.

CHAPTER II
THE STONE CURLEW OR THICK-KNEE

THE nest of the Stone Curlew, which comes to us
in April and leaves us in September, is a slight
hollow on the bare ground or turf, or it is to be
found among stones or pebbles. The eggs, as a
rule two in number, are greyish-brown or greyish-
yellow, dotted and spotted with purplish-grey and
dark brown. In form and colouring they nearly
resemble the eggs of the Oyster-catcher. The
young birds run directly they are hatched, and
they are covered with greyish down, with brown
cloudings.

This fine bird, that appears to be a link between
the Bustards and the Plovers, although fairly dis-
tributed in the season,—for it is a migrant,—is con-
fined to certain localities, principally to the eastern
and southern counties. It is, or at least was,
particularly abundant in Norfolk, and on this
account the name of Norfolk Plover was bestowed
on it.

The bird in that county and in Suffolk finds its
favourite haunts unlimited—I write unlimited pur-

9

10 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

posely, for commons, rabbit-warrens, sometimes
heaths and large open fields, are to be found there.
Asa quarry for a trained falcon, this bird is highly
valued by some falconers. It has had to make the
very best use of its strong swift wings very often in
the counties I have mentioned; but frequently to
no purpose, for the falcon with fatal stoop will strike
it to the ground.

The first Stone Curlew on which my wondering
eyes rested in boyhood days was shown to me by
a shore-shooter who had shot it in the marshes;
the birds bred there, and right away to their great
breeding station in Romney Marsh. They may
breed there still for anything I know; I have not
been there since barbed wires were introduced in
that locality. Barbed wires and natural history
pursuits do not agree very well. That shore-shooter,
a good old friend who has been at rest now for
many years, was most patient with me, and his eyes,
those dark-grey, far-seeing eyes, twinkled when a
torrent of eager, jumbled-up questions rushed from
my lips. With finger and thumb he parted the
bird’s eyelids that we might see the yellow, owl-like
eyes ; then he turned it about in all directions, finally
stretching out the legs for me to examine. All this
he would do to please a boy, who took far more
interest in birds than in any other matter.

The Stone Curlew is not only shy, but it is as
suspicious as a rat that has lost a fore-foot in a trap.
It runs with amazing speed, and its flight is very
quick and strong. The eye of the bird tells you

THE STONE CURLEW OR THICK-KNEE II

that it comes out in the gloaming; but it can be
seen in the daytime if searched for in the most
circumspect manner.

There is no hard-and-fast rule rclating to wild
creatures of crepuscular habits. The Brown Owl, for
instance, spreads himself out like a feather screen for
a warm air-bath, and he thoroughly enjoys it,
although the sun is shining not only bright but hotly.
I have seen him do it, not once but often. And the
bats, the Noctule particularly, will hawk for insects
with the swallows over the woodland roads in the
latter part of a bright afternoon in early autumn;
five o'clock is early for the beginning of the season.
As to the fox and badger, they will at times draw
very close, if you are near their haunts and they do
not wind you. If a fox goes by you, rest assured
you have learnt the art of keeping quiet.

It is the same with birds ; you can study them at
liberty if you can keep quiet, which some are not
able to do. It is best to go alone, if you can lie
stretched out in the ferns, your chin supported by
your hand to raise the head a little, your hat off;
and if you can bear a couple of stout flies at the
back of your neck.

When under such circumstances as these I have
seen what I crawled in there to see, I have after-
wards jumped up in the most active manner, and
have said all one could say on the subject to oneself,
in the most emphatic manner possible.

Not a sound, not even the faint tinkle-tinkle of a
sheep-bell falls on the ear ; church spires and hamlets,

12 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

farms and cottages are below us, surrounded by the
woods that creep almost up to the top of the Downs
we are sauntering over ; if we did not see one vestige
of bird life, the view would repay us a thousand
times. It seems useless to attempt a description
of the South Downs; those who wish to know what
the prospects from these are like must go there and
see for themselves.

Stone Curlews have their habitat there now as
they had in Gilbert White’s time. A few remain at
times, even in the winter; but the cause of their
remaining we do not know. A few remained in our
own marshes, when I was a boy; one that I tried
to paint was shot in winter-time. For weeks I have
known Down districts unvisited even by a shepherd :
it depended on what parts of the Downs the sheep
were feeding on.

I have never known any bird that nested on the
ground coming to grief, when sitting, by being
trampled on by stock feeding there. Instances of
this kind may have taken place, but I have never
seen it. When a ground bird is sitting, its eyes and
ears are all alert, not even a tiny harvest mouse
could crawl over or up a bent stem without the birds
hearing or seeing it. You may stand within a yard
of some, and see their bright eyes fixed on you; but
do not stop long, for even kindly human eyes disturb
them if the gaze is too persistent. Restless move-
ments of the shoulder feathers will show as the first
signs of uneasiness, then the bird will glide off and
away. A flock of sheep may be grazing round

‘THE STONE CURLEW OR THICK-KNEE 13

about a sitting Stone Curlew and never a feather be
touched. A sheep could nibble close to a bird, so
close that the bird would give it a gentle peck or a
flirt with its wing as a warning to walk round it ; but
a shepherd’s dog would not get near the nest, for
the birds know the difference.

In favourable situations, with a glass, you may
get a good view of them for a short time, but not
for long: the bird stands high on its legs, and it
holds its head up at times in spite of its skulking
habits; those bright eyes do not miss much. Even
as you look something causes the bird to spring up
and flight it. Important facts have been discovered
by accident, and similarly some of my own most
valued insight into bird-life has been gained in that
way. After weary walks and the most patient
watching, one almost stumbles over the creature
when one is not looking for it or even thinking
about it; and in the most unexpected places too,
where you would never have dreamed of looking
for iC

Here is a bare place, where turf has been
pared some time or other, long enough ago for
tuffets to besprinkle and for a few flints to crop
up; for directly the turf is off flints begin to
‘“‘grow,” as the rustics term it; that is, they show
above the soil. If the almost imperceptible move-
ment of what looks like a flint had not caught our
eye, we should have missed seeing a couple of
young Thick-knees. Our footsteps over the elastic
turf had not been heard by them, and when we

14 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

stepped off it on to the bare place we almost stepped
over them: they were far too frightened to run, so
they squatted, and as it were mimicked flint-stones.
It was only their breathing caused us to notice them.
Do what they will they are not able to conceal their
alarm, and their bodies move very perceptibly when
they breathe, telling you very plainly they are
frightened, and that they would be very glad if
you were gone. Never injure or kill any creature
you are studying, nor capture, if you can possibly
avoid it; for you might just as well destroy the
pages in an unread book, and then expect to know
what was init. If you wish to know something of
a creature's life, killing it will not inform you. One
understands how there is so much speculative
natural history about. A few facts are worth a
score of the most elaborate theories,

A stretch of low grey-green uplands is lit up for
a time with a dull tawny light, for night is near.
The little light remaining is the last reflection from
the after-glow of a marsh-land sunset. A mournful
whistling cry is heard, answered by others of a like
nature. The dull break of water can be heard on
the beach below, and with it is mixed up the cries
of birds. They come from gulls, cackling before
they rest on the flats. If you linger here long you
will feel a bit eerie, for all you will hear will be the
plaintive calls of those bright-eyed coursers, the
Stone Curlews.

oslo"

STONE CuRLEW.

THE STONE CURLEW OR THICK-KNEE 15

THE STONE CURLEW OR THICK-KNEE.
(Bdicnemus Scolopax.)

Mate.—The bill is yellow at the base, black at the
end ; iris yellow ; upper parts of the plumage light
yellowish-red tinged with grey, streaked with black-
ish-brown. Smaller wing coverts cream colour ;
tips of secondary quills white, primaries black ; the
outer two with a large white patch about the middle ;
tail feathers mottled with brown and pale reddish-
yellow, with more or less white towards the end ; the
tips black. A band over the eye and a lengthened
band under it whitish, then a light brown band with
dusky streaks; fore-part and sides of neck and
breast light yellowish-red with dusky streaks. The
middle of the breast and belly white ; legs and feet
yellow. In the breeding season the cock-bird has a
knob the size of a large pea at the base of the bill;
this mark only distinguishes him from his mate.
His length from bill to end of tail is seventeen
inches.

The female is like the male in plumage, but the
knob at the base of the bill is wanting.

CHAPTER III
PLOVERS

Tue Grey Plover does not nest in this country.
Very frequently this bird has been considered by
shore-shooters as a fine variety of the more common
Golden Plover; this is a very natural error.

The breeding or nesting haunt of this bird was
only discovered in 1875 by Messrs. Seebohm and
Harvie-Brown, on the tundras above the limit of
forest growth in the valley of the Petchora in
North-eastern Russia. This is only one grand bird
nursery ; others will be discovered, all in good time.

This Plover frequents the tide-ways, and the
marshes where large flats of mud are left when the
tide runs out; creeks and bays that are filled by the
tide brimful when it flows, and left almost dry at
the ebb, are favoured by it. If the saltings that
border them are rough, scattered over with stones,
bents, tufts of blite and rushes, so much the better ;
for they will squat there as close, at times, as
Partridges.

To a certain extent the range of this bird is more

local than that of the Golden Plover; some shore-
16

PLOVERS 17

lines are fairly well frequented by them, others
sparingly. It was so on our own coast; for the
shooters when looking for heavy Plovers, ‘heavy as
lead” was their term for them, used to work these
rough belts just out of high-water mark, with their
clever spaniels. Couples and single birds rewarded
their close hunting; I fancy that the Grey Plovers
on that part were only stragglers that had come
with the flights of Golden Plovers and _ then
separated from them ; and that the difference be-
tween the habits of the heavy Plovers and the
others was well known, their method of searching
for them proved.

One day when out shooting, we heard a shot on
one side of us and saw the shooter walk a little
distance and pick up something. As he made
tracks in our direction we waited for him to come
up. To my question of ‘What luck?” without a
word he produced from the pocket of his coat a fine
Grey Plover, which had been carefully arranged,
not crammed in. As he stroked the breast feathers
with one of his fingers, he said, “Hold him in your
hand and weigh him; ain’t he a heavy Plover?
Heavy as lead.”

Crawling over and through a bit of stuff such as
I have mentioned, with mud-pattens slung at your
side, and a gun to bring along too, is far easier to
talk about than to do. Supposing you have done
it, got on your pattens quiet as a mouse, and
sneaked along that line of rotting piles, sea-weed-

covered and winkle-dotted, to get at three or four
Cc

18 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

Grey Plovers feeding out on the slub—what then ?
You are drawing nearer, and your back aches
terribly through being compelled to stoop so. One
more creep and there will be a chance, at least you
think so. But that chance does not offer itself to
you, for a yelper of a Redshank slips off the very
end of the piles, where he has been listening to the
suck of your pattens from the time you started.
How he shrieks and darts down the creek !—and the
Plovers go as well. No wonder that highly moral
verses learnt in childhood come to mind, as we
slowly walk back, quite upright now, and our feet
feeling heavy as lead.

The nest of the Golden Plover is only a slight
hollow on some dry spot on the moors the birds
frequent, with a few leaves or grass-blades scattered
in it. As is usual with the Plovers, the eggs are
arranged with their small ends together, the ground-
colour of the eggs being cream colour or greyish-
yellow, dotted, patched, and spotted with dark brown ;
sometimes light purple spots are found on them.
As the eggs of all birds that have coloured mark-
ings vary more or less, and the birds vary slightly in
size, like common humanity does, I only give the
usual types.

This beautiful bird is almost as well known in
certain countries as is the Lapwing. Vast numbers
remain with us throughout the year, merely shifting
their head-quarters from the northern moors where
they breed, to the lower country, as winter draws
near. Hosts upon hosts of Golden Plovers visit

PLOVERS 19

this country from northern lands and leave us again ;
all the birds of this family range wide. As to the
countries they visit, some have been mentioned,
but to attempt any definite arrangement of flight
lines would only be futile ; they are to be found in
certain places for a time, and then they leave them,
or they are at least supposed to do so; but the
worst of it is, birds have been found breeding in
most unexpected places, quite out of all boundaries
as given in scientific books on natural history. The
less said about this the better.

I have seen this Plover in its various changes
from summer to winter plumage; the mottlings
during these changes on the lower parts are very
beautiful. The northern visitors are deeper tinted
in their feathering than are our home-bred birds.
Those who have watched the changes in Starlings,
from their dull nesting plumage to that of the first
adult stage, will, I think, be reminded of the spotted
and patched plumage when the Golden Plover’s
plumage is in its transition state.

Although they breed freely in the northern country
and in Scotland, it is not often that they are seen on
the hills or moors of southern countries. Great
flocks shoot over, and some even settle for a short
time, but they are up and away again. A part of
one lot settled on a wide common I was walking
over ; these preferred the main road that ran through
it to run on and pick about in. They were the
tamest, or it might have been that they were the
most tired-out birds of that species I have ever

20 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN.

seen; for they ran a few yards ahead of me like
barn-door fowls, before they attempted to rise again,
This is a gentle, bright-eyed creature, like the
Dunlin that nests close to it on the moors. So
closely does the Dunlin follow the Golden Plover
that it has been called the “ Plover’s Page.” Its
well-known cry is in perfect harmony with the bird’s
surroundings ; and indeed, in wild life sights and
sounds do go together. From the nature of the
bird’s nesting stations, it is not likely to suffer from
any enemies except Hooded Crows and Gulls ; but
these are bad enough.

The female of the Dotterel is larger and more
handsome than the male. The latter takes the chief
share in incubation, and looks after the young when
hatched. This is exceptional, but it is not a solitary
case. I remember that when some Stone Curlews
were required for scientific purposes some years ago,
a boy who knew the birds and their haunts well
snared some on their eggs in the day-time, and they
were all cock-birds.

The nest of the Dotterel is a mere hollow. The
eggs, three as a rule in number, are very handsome,
ranging from buff olive to buff in ground-colour,
spotted and blotched and slightly sprinkled with
grey. The same places that the Ptarmigan nest in
suit the Dotterel.

These birds used to breed in the Lake district
years ago, and before me is a list of their stations.
I shall only mention two of these, Helvellyn, 3055,
and Skiddaw, 3022 feet above the sea-level.

PLOVERS 21

The Dotterel is considered to be one of the
quickest flighting birds known. It arrives here
about the middle of April or the beginning of May,
has a very short rest on the South Downs, and other
open places on the coast-line, then it dashes off to
its breeding stations. Naturally it is of a tame and
confiding disposition, and so it has been called
morinellus, the “little fool.” If ever a beautiful bird
has been harried this one has, and I regret to write
that the persecution is still going on. This is because
the feathers are highly valued for dressing artificial
flies. Fifty years ago those who knew the nesting
haunts said that if this persecution went on specimens
would only be procured with the greatest difficulty.
All this has come to pass and more. Collectors have
been in some measure to blame for this. The Bird
Protection Act has been passed, I know, but I very
much doubt—so far as Dotterels are concerned—if
it ever reached 3055 feet above sea-level. Like the
Kite, this bird is valued for its feathers. Many a
bird has been killed for its tail feathers and for
nothing else, for fly-dressing. I .have seen those
glorious fabrications called salmon-flies, and have
been told that nothing but certain feathers from
certain birds could be used for making them; but I
will leave that subject to those who know more
about the matter than I do.

In 1860 it was noticed that the Dotterels were
coming to us in decreasing numbers. If the same
persecution is going on elsewhere, in order to supply
fishing lures, we need not wonder at this. When

22 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

birds that have been used to breed in certain districts
once take it into their heads that the place or places
are no longer fitted for them, they leave them, not to
return again.

As this bird flights vast distances to breeding
stations on the tundras of Europe and Asia, there is
little to fear as regards its extirpation; I only refer
to the bird in this country, where it has been treated
in the most inhospitable manner for so many years.

Fields of old fallow lea, upland pastures, and
the table-lands of mountains and high hills are
favoured by the Dotterel as feeding-grounds ; it is
not a coast bird. At one time the Bustard and the
Dotterel could be seen on the same feeding-grounds,
and both are gone now. Kites, if required for avi-
aries, are brought from the Continent, so are their
tails ; and as it is necessary to kill the Kite to procure
its tail, the thinning-off process is resorted to. No
matter what you require, Bitterns or Little Bitterns,
Night Herons or Egrets, you can get them all by
paying for them; also Dotterels.

The eggs of the Common Ring Dotterel, four in
number, are deposited in a slight hollow scraped out
by the birds, arranged with their small ends together,
above the tide-mark among the pebbles or gravel, and
more frequently in the sand. They are very large for
the size of the bird, greyish-yellow in ground-colour,
covered with spots and dots, with small line markings ;
in fact they mimic the beach pebbles. This pleasing
and most interesting little Plover remains with us in
varied numbers, according to locality, throughout the

PLOVERS 23

year. The local names of Ring Plover, Sand Lark,
Sandy Laverock, Stone-hatch, and Stone Plover are
most appropriate, each in its way.

Sandy warrens just off the tide are favourite
nesting haunts; it would be almost impossible to
give a correct idea of this broken ground, which
is tenanted by rabbits that swarm on the shingle
of the beach to feed, when the night comes on, on
the washed-up sea-weed.. Sandy bits there are
littered with pebbles, vicious little blackthorns that
catch you and trip you up, if not very careful in
your movements, mixed up with furze and brambles.
These are the spots most favoured by the Sand Lark ;
for on such bare sandy spots as abound here the
eggs. are deposited. Unless the birds fly up just
in front of you, as you make your way along, it is
impossible to see them, so very closely does their
plumage fall in with their surroundings.

No bird that I am acquainted with shows more
anxiety for its eggs and young than the bird under
notice. It is this extreme anxiety that betrays their
presence ; you hear a plaintive whistle, and the bird
flits in front of you, settles down, and pipes. There
it is, you can see it now as plainly as if you had it
in your hand. It runs a yard or two away, then
turns and comes towards you as if it meant to run
close up to your feet; stops short, looks at you
intently with its full dark eyes, and pipes softly, as
if to’ say, ‘Don’t come any nearer.” But we do,
for we feel inclined to see some perfect acting on
this proficient little creature’s part.

24 WILD FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

There it goes, one leg broken and a wing tipped ;
now both wings are crippled, and it tries to raise
its useless wings, but all to no purpose; it drops
on its breast, throws its head back with the eyes-
half-closed, as much as to say, “I am done for.”
Nothing of the kind ; it scuffles out of sight some-
how, and you pass on. Presently you see a wounded
bird trying to keep from falling; it is no use, for
the poor creature drops, spreads out its tail and
wings as some species do at the Jast gasp, and lies
there, to all appearance dead. It is nothing but
sheer humbug, the whole of it; on a near approach
the bird shoots up and away, piping in the most
cheerful and contented manner: these consummate
arts have only been gone through to lure you away
from the vicinity of its eggs or young. You might,
in fact, be standing over a nestling and not see it;
unless the toe of your boot caused the tiny creature
to move from where it had squatted; when the
young are alarmed they scatter out.

I have had many hunts after the Ring Dotterel’s
eggs and young in past days, and to little purpose ;
I have seen both, but not too often, although the
birds were breeding in detached pairs all around my
boyhood’s home. For the whole of one afternoon
did a pair of these birds baffle four of the keenest
beach-hunters I knew, although the young ones
were all piping for their parents, close round them.
This is a matter of common occurrence. You will
hear it frequently said, “We're goin’ on the hunt
for Sand Larks’ eggs, but we don’t expect to have

Common Rincep DorrereL.

PLOVERS 25

any luck.” Those that are found, as a rule, are
met with accidentally in the course of ordinary
rambles.

A long line of beach runs sloping down’ to the
tide ; above high-water mark straggling posts show,
some with fish-baskets on the top of them. These are
fishing guides; one or two slope very much, which
has been caused by the play of the wind on the old
baskets, and the wasting away of the sand they had
been placed in, for on some fore-shores sands are
continually shifting more or less. Just beyond the
old posts a rough track runs, dotted with stunted
furze-bushes, which are nibbled down closely by
the rabbits ; then comes some coarse, broken ground,
and the Downs lie beyond. The spot indicated was
even in summer-time a very lonely one; no one
passed there unless business matters compelled them
to do so, for the rough track ran, as the few people
scattered about there said, to nowhere; that is, to
where no houses could be seen. I have been there
for hours without hearing any other sounds besides
the lap of the waves on the beach below, and the
piping of Ring Dotterels.

That this smart active creature should have been
a favourite with lonely coast-dwellers was not to be
wondered at; so very isolated were some of them
that they had to row for a distance of five miles in
their boats to fill their fresh-water barrels. I have
seen them come many times to the mouth of a gen-
erous spring of coolest and sparkling fresh water
that emptied itself direct into the tide. Before

26 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

filling their barrels they would drink and drink
again; to them that bubbling, sparkling water was
life itself.

Water was all around: them in the lagoons, in
the fleets and dykes; this could be used for washing
purposes, for it was not salt, and the greater portion
not even brackish, but it was dead water ; and those
who were compelled at times to drink it suffered
from ague and delirious. marsh fever. I write
always feelingly on the subject, for I have gone
through it all.

There were only the birds to watch in the way
of amusement; and even the Dotterels at certain
seasons were conspicuous by their absence, for they
have their times and seasons. The only motive in
searching for the eggs was that they might be
placed with others on those long loops and lines
that all boys delighted to have at that time. The
nests were not ruthlessly robbed, of any bird ; one
here and a couple there might be taken, as the case
might be, to form their out-of-doors collections ;
they dared not get near the house with them, under
heavy pains and penalties. A scrub-broom, a pair
of pattens, a wet mop, or a bit of rope’s end, no
matter what, the first object that might come handy,
would be used if a boy, in his eagerness to show
another some new find, got too near the house with
his treasures.

As I was generally the one to whom the fresh
finds were shown, I had often to clear out:as well.
For our marsh-land folks would have it that dire

PLOVERS 27

misfortunes would happen to the community—rang-
ing from shipwreck to the capture of a contraband
cargo—if birds’ eggs were brought indoors, or too
near the house. ‘This strange belief is alive and
in full force still in some places known to myself.
As the rare finds were generally the eggs of the
Ring Dotterel, that they were hard to find became
only natural. The nest of the common Lapwing,
if a slight hollow can be called one, contains four
eggs, of large size for the bird, but yet they are not
so large as those of the Golden Plover. The
general ground-colour of the eggs is brownish-
yellow, dotted, blotched, and spotted with brownish-
black ; but they vary like the eggs of other birds
in their ground-colouring and markings. It must
always be remembered, when reading about nests
and eggs, that one should accept the general types
of both; but due allowance should be made for
variations, hard-and-fast rules do not obtain in these
matters.

The Lapwing, or, as it is far better known, the
Pewit, is one of the beautiful and common birds
that remain with us throughout the year.. Where
plashy heaths and wide common lands border on
cultivation, there you will be sure to meet with the’
Pewit. Fallow fields and turnip fields are his
favourite feeding-grounds. These handsome. birds.
are good friends of the farmers, for they feed: on.
creatures which, if no check were placed on_their
increase, would injure the crops in no small measure.
As the gentle bird’s bump of self-preservation, so to

28 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

speak, is largely developed, he rarely suffers from
gun-shots. In fact the bird is credited by the
country folks with sleeping open-eyed.

One thing is certain, if those who have to look
after covers at night hear the feeding Plovers ex-
change their contented murmured “ weet-weet-e-e-
weets,” for the alarm note of “ pewit-pewit-weet,”
they know that mischief is on foot somewhere or
other. I have known keepers shoot a great many
birds, but do not recollect a Pewit ever being one
of them. So far as I know, there is never an
instance of keepers shooting one of their natural
night guards.

The great numbers of Pewits that are found in
the markets are netted Plovers, and as netting is
only practised by a limited number, so much the
better for the Plovers. That model of suspicion,
the Curlew, is also netted when he is required to
be perfectly free from injury ; to put in aviaries, for
example. Rooks and Pewits may frequently be
seen in company, large numbers of them feeding in
the same field or fields; not that the Pewits have
cause to love the Rooks over much, for in the
breeding season the latter birds hunt for the eggs
of the Pewits in the most persistent manner, as a
delicate article of diet. Hooded Crows are never
seen in some districts, so the blame is off their
shoulders. If once Rooks get well acquainted with
such delicacies, in spite of all the raps and buffet-
ings the breeding birds may give them, they will
get them if they can. So much were the depreda-

PLOVERS 29

tions carried on in one large field I know, that hard
measures had to be adopted to stop them.

The Rooks used to fly over the hedge on to
the main road to do their egg-sucking; but they
dropped their eggs as quickly—it may be a trifle
quicker—as they picked them up, for two or three
shots rang out as they flighted over the hedge.
Then you heard “ quark-e-e-e, gorble gorble gorble,
quark-e-e-e-e!” the death-song of the dying Rooks.
After that they were taken into the field and spread-
eagled out on the ground, as a notice to the others
to—ware Pewits !

If the young Pewits remain perfectly still it is
almost impossible to detect them; it is the over-
done acting of the parents that betrays the young
at times. For they roll and scuffle in a sad state
of mortal injury close to you; probably if you
chanced to look down, almost at your feet you
would see the young birds. No one takes young
Pewits, for it is not only cruel, but perfectly useless.
Two of our most interesting marsh-land sights were
to see the Lapwings come on the flats to feed, and
the Starlings go to roost in the reed-beds; for the
bed-time of the Starlings was the feeding-time of
the Lapwings. It was wonderful to watch two
vast hosts of birds of different flight on the wing
at one time, the flapping veering of the Pewits
showing, now black and now white, as alterations
in their aerial manceuvres occurred; the rush
and roar of the Starlings as they went through
their sunset evolutions with military precision,

30 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

like one bird; invisible one moment, a dark mov-
ing cloud the next, twisting, wheeling, rising, and
falling, and at last making for the reeds with
a rush and a roar like that of an express train.
Then the babble, each one trying to out-chatter his
neighbour ; then silence, the silence of the dreary
flats. Again, far out, a cloud of birds is lowering—
they are the Pewits ; they have settled, but even from
where we stand we can hear the “‘ pewit-weet-weet.”

The Collared Turnstone is a handsome bird that
appears on our coasts in October, leaving them
again in May, although a few remain all the summer
in Great Britain along the rocky parts of the coast.
From their being seen at this time of year, some
have stated that a few breed on our coast, but up
to the present time this has not been proved. Some
of these late-staying Turnstones have been shot for
the purpose of examination, and although they were
in what might be called summer plumage, they
were not so handsome as those that shoot along the
coast in May, on their way to their nesting haunts
over the North Sea.

The bird has received its name from its habit
of turning over small stones, sea-weed, and other
refuse thrown up by the waves, where their food
may be hidden. It is a nimble-footed and swift-
winged bird, a wanderer in the full sense of the
word. The late Mr. Gould remarked—‘“If any
bird may be regarded as cosmopolite, it is the
Turnstone, for it inhabits the sea-shores of every
part of the globe.”

“PLOVERS 3I

The nest of the Pied Oyster-catcher is a slight
hollow among pebbles or gravel above high-water
mark, or on coarse ground not far from the tide.
The eggs are large, from three to four of them,
arranged with the smaller ends together, being
greyish-yellow marked all over with dots, spots, and
blotches of blackish-brown and amber, with some
streaks of the same colour.

This handsome black-and-white wader and
swimmer is called Sea-pie on the south coast, where
it is only a visitor, and Mussel-picker in Scotland,
where it is found all the year round. At times
these birds gather in vast numbers, particularly in
Sutherland, and as they are not interfered with, the
vast flocks are quite fearless. Sea-pie is far more
appropriate as a name for the bird than Oyster-
catcher, for strong as the bill is, and used by the
bird in the most able manner, oysters are safe from it.

This bird may be seen at times with other fowl in
the markets, but I think they are sent to hang up
only to attract notice to more valuable birds by
their very conspicuous plumage. In their haunts
they enliven by their active movements and loud
cries some very lonely places, where more seals can
be seen than men.

It breeds on the stony or sandy beaches of the
rivers in Scotland, in fact it is a common bird there ;
so very common in some parts, that no more notice
is taken of finding a clutch of their handsome eggs
on the shingle, than there would be in southern
counties in finding a Thrush’s nest.

32 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

THE GREY PLOVER.
(Sguatarola Helvetica.)

Ma.e.—The bill rather stout, nearly as long as
the head, black, iris dusky; the upper parts
blackish-grey, variegated with numerous white spots
along the margins of the feathers; those on the
rump have a yellow tinge. Upper tail coverts white,
with dusky bars towards the end. Tail barred with
dusky brownish-black and white. The primary quills
and their coverts are chocolate brown, slightly
margined with greyish-white. The sides of the
head, the neck all round, the breast and sides of the
body greyish-white, streaked with brownish-grey.
The belly and lower tail coverts white, legs and feet
greyish-black. This bird has a small hind toe, which
the Golden Plover, the next on the list, has not.

I have given the details of the bird’s plumage as
it isusually met with. The breeding plumage, with
the exception of the spotted parts of the feathers
being white instead of brassy yellow,—as in the
Golden Plover,—is very like that of the latter bird.
Its length is twelve inches.

The female is similar to the male, only smaller.

THE GOLDEN PLOVER.
(Charadrius pluvialis.)

Mate.—In summer the bill is black, the iris
brown ; the upper part of the head and fore-part of

PLOVERS 33

back are beautifully variegated with brownish-black
and bright yellow; the upper tail coverts and the
tail feathers are greyish-brown, variegated with paler
yellow. The middle of the fore-neck and breast are
brownish-black, bordered with white ; the sides of
the neck and body mottled with brown and gteyish-
yellow ; the forehead, a band over the eye, and the
belly white ; legs and feet dark bluish-grey.

In winter the male’s upper parts are brownish-
black, with very numerous yellow spots arranged
along the margins of the feathers. The upper tail
coverts are barred with brown and yellow; the tail
feathers greyish-brown barred with yellowish-white ;
the lower part white. The wings are chocolate
brown, the smaller coverts and inner secondaries
spotted like the back ; primary quills slightly tipped
with greyish-white. The bird’s length is nearly
eleven inches.

In summer and winter the female plumage is very
like that of the male.

THE DOTTEREL PLOVER.

(Zudromias morinellus.)

Mate.—In the summer the bill is bluish-black,
the iris brown. The upper part of the head is
brownish-black, the feathers of the forehead margined
with a white line over the eye to the occiput, where
it meets that of the other side of the head. The
throat is white, with dusky specks. The upper

D

34 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

parts of the plumage are greyish-brown, the feathers
having red edges; the fore-neck greyish-brown, a
double band of black and white on the lower part of
it, the sides and fore-parts of the breast red, with a
patch of black behind. The belly and lower tail
coverts are buffish-white, tail greyish-brown, dark
brown towards the end. The length of the bird
from bill to end of tail is ten inches.

In winter plumage the upper part of the head is
dark brown, margined with reddish-white, the upper
parts greenish-brown, the feathers edged with pale
red; forehead and cheeks whitish with dusky
streaks ; fore-neck grey-brown, a band of white at
its lower part ; the breast, reddish-brown.

THE COMMON RING DOTTEREL.
(4igiahtis hiaticula.)

Mate.—The bill is black at the end, orange at
the base ; the forehead is marked with two bands, a
black and a white. A dark brown band runs under
the eye; a ring of white, including the throat, is
succeeded by a broader ring of brownish-black.
The top of the head, the back, and the wings are
greyish-brown. The-quills are dark greyish-brown,
of a deeper tint towards the end; a bar of white
crosses the wing; throat, breast, sides, and belly
are pure white; legs and feet orange. The bird’s
length from bill to end of tail is from eight to eight.
and a half inches,

The female is similar in plumage to the male.

PLOVERS 35

THE KENTISH PLOVER.
(Zgialitts cantiana.)

The Kentish Plover is smaller than the common
species already described, and from which it may be
easily distinguished by its having only two patches
of black in the place of an entire ring of that colour
on the neck. The general tones of colouring are as
in the common. The bird’s length is seven inches.

THE LITTLE RINGED PLOVER.
(Zegialitis curonica.)

This pretty creature is, as its name denotes, a
dwarfed representative of its common relative, that
courser and tripper over flats and sands which is so
universally distributed, the Ring Dotterel or Plover.

As it is my intention only to describe in their
haunts the game birds and wild-fowl that are usually
to be met with, the rarer species belonging to their
families will only be briefly noticed. Very rare
visitors will not be noticed, for they do not belong
to this country ; and, as | said before, my sketches
are not written from a scientific point of view, or on
regular natural history lines.

THE COMMON LAPWING.

(Vanellus vulgaris.)

Mate.—The bill is brownish-black, the iris brown ;
the upper part of head and crest are black, glossed

36 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

with green and blue. The sides of head and
neck are white, but a black streak under the eyes.
The fore-part of neck and a part of the breast
are black, glossed with blue and green; the upper
parts brownish-green, some of the feathers having
purple and blue reflections. The primary quills
bluish-black, breast and belly pure white, legs and
feet dullcrimson. The bird’s length from bill to end
of tail is thirteen inches.

The female is coloured similar to the male, the
only difference being that the head and fore-neck
are a little lighter, and her crest is not so long.

THE COLLARED TURNSTONE.
(Strepsilas interpres.)

Mate.—The bill is black, the base of the lower
mandible reddish ; iris brown. The general colour of
the upper parts is dark brown, glossed with green
and purple, the feathers edged with pale brown;
fore-part and sides of the head white, spotted with
black ; the throat white, a band on each side from
the lower mandible. The side of head and fore-part
of neck are black; lower parts pure white, as are
the hind-part of the back and the upper tail coverts.
Some of the rump feathers are black, the tail is white
at the base, brownish-black towards the end. The
primary quills and coverts brownish-black, legs and
feet orange. Length, from bill to end of tail, ten
inches. ‘This is the usual state of the bird’s plumage

PLOVERS 37

as met with herein the season. It breeds in northern
lands. In the winter the middle of the back and the
lower parts are white ; fore-neck black, upper parts
blackish-brown.

FremaLE.—Similar in colour, but not so deep.

THE PIED OYSTER-CATCHER.
(Hematopus ostralegus.)

Mate.—The bill is three inches long, vermilion
tinged with yellow towards the base, the wedge end
of it dull yellow, iris crimson. The eyelids aré
vermilion ; the head, neck all round, fore-part of
back, scapulars, wing coverts, quills, and end-part of
tail are a deep greenish-black. The breast, belly,
side, middle and hind-part of the back, and the
upper and lower tail coverts are pure white ; a band
of the same colour crosses the wing. The legs
and feet are purplish-red. The bird’s length from
bill to end of tail is seventeen inches.

The female resembles the male in colour, but she
is a little larger, measuring from bill to end of tail
eighteen inches.

CHAPTER IV
THE RUFF AND THE REEVE

Wuewn the Ruffs first arrive, about the middle
of April, the frills round the necks of the males are
but half grown; the tubercles on the face, the tufts,
and the ruff disappear in July. The colours of the
ruff in particular, as well as those of the body, are so
varied that hardly two birds can be found alike.

The Reeve, as the female is called, constructs a
flimsy nest in the centre of a tuft of swamp herbage,
coarse grass, or sedge; the eggs being four in
number, grey green in ground-colour, blotched and
spotted with reddish-brown and markings of brown
grey. The Ruff is polygamous in its habits, and
during the breeding season very pugnacious.

At the present time there are but two or three
localities where these birds remain to rear their
young, and these we will not mention, for very good
reasons, which the true bird-lover will understand.
The marshes and swamps they once frequented
have been reduced by the modern system of drainage
to such an extent that very few places are now left,

suitable for them to breed in. The catching of Ruffs
38

THE RUFF AND THE REEVE 39

and Reeves, as well as the fattening of them for the
table, belong almost to the past, owing to the causes
I have mentioned, notably the drainage of the fens.

To complete the description of the Ruff it will be
interesting to my readers if I quote from the sup-
plement to Montagu’s Ovazthological Dictionary,
published in 1813. Colonel Montagu states that
he made a tour through Lincolnshire in order to
make himself acquainted with the history of this
singular bird.

“The trade of catching Ruffs,” he says, “is
confined to a very few persons, which at present
scarcely repays their trouble and expense of nets.
These people live in obscure places on the verge of
the fens, and are found out with difficulty, for few if
any birds are ever bought but by those who make
a trade of fattening them for the table; and they
sedulously conceal the abode of the fowlers, so much
that by no art could we obtain from any of them
where they resided; and in order to deceive us,
after evading our inquiries, gave us instructions that
led us in quite a contrary direction. The reason of
all this was obvious, for after much labour and
search in the most obscure places—for neither the
inn-keepers nor other inhabitants of the town could
give any information, and many did not know such
a bird was peculiar to their fens—we found out a
very civil and intelligent fowler, who resided close
to Spalding, at Fengate, by name William Burton—
we feel a pleasure in recording his name, not only
from his obliging nature, but for the use of others in

40 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

similar pursuits—and strange to say, that although
the man had constantly sold Ruffs to Mr. Towns,
a noted feeder, hereafter more particularly noticed,
as also another feeder at Cowbit, by the name of
Weeks, neither of these persons could be induced
to inform us even of the name of this fowler. The
reason, however, was evident, and justly remarked
by Burton, for he obtained no more than ten
shillings per dozen, whereas Weeks demanded
thirty shillings for the like number he had the
same day bought of Burton. The season was far
advanced, and we were obliged to buy some at that -
price from Weeks, for Burton could not then catch
as many as we required. At this time we were
shown into a room, where there were about seven
dozen males and a dozen females, and of the former
there were not two alike. This intrusion to choose
our birds drove them from their stands, and com-
pelling some to trespass upon the premises of others,
produced many battles. By this feeder we learned
that two guineas a dozen was now the price of
fattened Ruffs ; and he never remembered the price
under thirty shillings when fit for table. Mr.
Towns, the noted feeder at Spalding, assured us his
family had been a hundred years in the trade;
boasted that they had served George II. and many
noble families in the kingdom. He undertook, at
the desire of the late Marquis of Townsend (when
that nobleman was Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland), to
take some Ruffs to that country, and actually set off
with twenty-seven dozen from Lincolnshire, left

THE RUFF AND THE REEVE 41

seven dozen at the Duke of Devonshire’s at Chats-
worth, continued his route across the kingdom to
Holyhead, and delivered seventeen dozen alive in
Dublin, having lost only three dozen in so long a
journey, confined and greatly crowded as they were
in baskets, which were carried upon two horses.”

Nothing can more strongly evince the hardy
constitution of these birds than the performance of
such a journey so soon after capture, and neces-
sarily fed with a food wholly new to them; and
yet a certain degree of care and attention is requisite
to preserve, and more especially to fatten them ; for
out of the seventeen dozen delivered at the Castle
of Dublin, not more than two dozen were served up
to table, doubtless entirely owing to a want of
knowledge or attention of the feeder under whose
care they had been placed.

The marsh people were not very easy to get
at when we lived on the flats; they were far
worse in the time of the gentleman above quoted.
When the draining of the fens was first proposed,
the amphibious fen slodgers rose as one man against
the motion ; but it was no use, they had to go, as
well as their precious Ruffs, if they would find a
living. I have records by me stating that when
some ‘‘furrin settlers” made fresh banks, to keep
the water back, the fen folks broke them, and they
watched the breaches with loaded duck-guns to
prevent the new people from repairing them. These
matters belong to the past ; as draining continues, the
Ruffs will pass away from the remnants of the fens.

42 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

THE COMMON RUFF.
(Machetes pugnax.)

The male, in summer, has numerous fleshy
tubercles on the face, two occipital tufts, and a
very large ruff of long feathers on the neck. The
bill is orange yellow, the end brown ; the tubercles
on the head are reddish-yellow, the occipital tufts
purplish-black ; the ruff is chestnut, streaked and
variegated with black ; in fact there is no end to the
variations of these parts. The neck, breast, and sides
are mottled with black and white; hind-neck and
back mottled and barred with light reddish-yellow
and brownish-black. The primary quills and coverts
are dark brown, lower parts white; legs and feet
yellow. Length of bird, twelve inches.

The winter plumage is very different ; the bill
being brown, iris hazel, upper parts variegated with
brownish-black and light red; fore-neck and part of
the breast pale reddish-brown, spotted with dark
brown. The rest of the lower parts are white; legs
and feet greenish-yellow.

The female is without tubercles or ruff. In summer
the upper parts are greyish-brown glossed with
green, fore-part of neck and breast paler, lower
parts white. In the winter the female resembles
the male, but the dark tints are paler, and the lower
parts tinged with grey.

CHAPTER V
SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING

Tue Knot, called also locally the Ash-coloured
Sandpiper, appears on our coast in the latter part of
August, or the beginning of September. In this
case, again, the female is larger than the male,
her plumage is similar; the old birds usually show
a portion of their breeding plumage when they first
arrive, and some have been shot in red plumage.
Where the Knots rush off to in order to breed is
a mystery yet to be solved. The young Knots are
coming all through August and well into September,
whole hosts of them ; when they first arrive they are
most guileless creatures, but they soon learn to take
better care of themselves.

There must be a vast breeding ground somewhere,
not yet discovered. They leave us and they return
again, but where from is not known, this being one
of the mysteries of bird life. They are to be found
in great numbers on some parts of the coast-line,
and they are eagerly sought for by gunners, for they
are good birds to eat. Ifa large flock of them can

be well got at, they are well worth getting. No
43

44 WILDIFOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

matter how many are killed, they are here in full
hosts again next season.

The Purple Sandpiper has not been found breed-
ing in any part of Great Britain, although young
ones with nestling down among their feathers have
frequently been procured. This indeed proves no-
thing, as the young of other members of the Sand-
piper family have been found in the same condition.
That distant breeding haunt where they were hatched
out has not yet been discovered.

This bird is known to breed in Iceland, the
Faroes, and other northern haunts. I have seen
many of these Purple Sandpipers in various stages
of plumage, some of them not far removed from
the full breeding plumage. This is not to be
wondered at, for it does not take them long when
their young are fit for flighting to dash over here
from their nearest northern breeding station. On
those parts of the coast that are suitable to them,
they may be seen nimbly running over the rocks
and boulders directly the waves break and recoil ;
in fact they follow the waves down, picking up their
food from off the tangle and weeds that cling to
them ; avoiding the thundering rush of the return-
ing waves in the most clever manner.

The Purple Sandpiper can swim; I never knew a
wader yet that could not do so when it was necessary.
Where lobsters, crabs, and congers are caught are
the parts where this bird may be looked for.

Let me sketch one place where I have seen him. A
long line of dark brown and olive-green tinted rocks,

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 45

connected in some parts, broken up in others, of all
shapes and sizes, with high rocks again behind them ;
in some places great solid sloping shelves would run
fifty yards or more in length without a break, covered
with shiny slippery sea-ware, that I have failed to
travel over bare-footed. So I have crawled over on
all fours, a very undignified position certainly, but
under the peculiar circumstances it was the safest.
Then the rock fringe would break up, and in the
hollows, full of clear water, you would see all sorts
of beautiful weeds and tangle, dull crimson, orange
brown, and rich green. ‘‘Sea-ware” was the name
for it. There are but very few places a healthy lad
will not explore if he has the chance, and I certainly
did exploit that ugly rock fringe. Ugly for a fishing-
boat a little off her course, it was; and I paid for
my own venturing there; my shins were terribly
scarred, and my arms scratched all over through
hunting for crabs in rock-holes, and for other things.
I have found myself on my back in the most sudden
and unexpected manner gazing at the sky above.
Those weeds were treacherous to travel on, and I
have managed also to slip into a hole between two
rocks, up to my neck in water, when the tide was
out. Here we could see our birds, for they fed on
both tides, the ebb and the flow. Sometimes in one
of the larger pools a conger of considerable size
would be discovered: this was left in peace until we
could meet with a fisherman or some stout fisher-
lad ; for a fair-sized conger, from four to five feet in
length, does not allow itself to be easily captured.

46 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

There is another matter also to be considered : the
bite of a conger eel is to be avoided if possible.
When the tide was out the birds picked about the
broken-up rocks and the tide-pools. They are not
timid, so that they may be observed with little
trouble. A couple here, one there, never in numbers
at any time on that hard shore. At high tide the
waves rushed up the shelving rock patches, broke
up in foam and receded, pouring off in cataracts of
hissing water. Then the Purple Sandpipers were
busy.

The female is similar to the male, only larger.
In summer, at least, their plumage is alike—the
breeding state of plumage. The upper parts are
glossy purple black, the feathers on the head with
red margins, on the back red with white tips, lower
parts white, spotted and streaked with grey. As I
have stated, the bird is seen here, at times, nearly
in this state of colouring. The Purple Sandpiper
resembles the Dunlin generally, but his form is
more robust.

That nimble, neat-looking bird the Dunlin has
many local names, according to the districts the bird
is found in—Ox-bird, Dorbie, Ox-eye, Purree, Sea
Snipe, Stint, Sea Lark, Plover’s Page, Red-backed
Sandpiper, etc.

For some time this bird, owing to its very different
states of summer and winter plumage, was a puzzle
to our earlier ornithologists, and they made two
distinct species from the same bird. To a novice
it is confusing to hear on some parts of our coast

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 47°

Curlew Sandpipers, Sanderlings, Dunlins, and Stints
in the winter plumage called by the one name of
Stints. A friend of mine on the east coast,
in writing to me said, “I have sent you some
Stints.” His Stints consisted of the three first birds
we have mentioned. As this was only recently,
local names are apparently as much in use now as
they were forty years ago.

The Dunlin nests in this country on the northern
moors, Scotland naturally being its chief nesting-
place; and from the Dunlin’s nesting close to the
Golden Plovers in the same haunts, it has been
called by the people the “ Plover’s Page.”

It will be as well to give in detail the full breed-
ing plumage of one of our commonest shore birds,
Even in southern counties we have procured it
when flighting ; also the Curlew Sandpiper, just as
the breeding plumage was changing. This was on
the muddy edges of a large pool at the foot of a
wooded hill, very close to a populous town.

The bill is black, iris brown, upper part of head
brownish-black, the feathers margined with yellowish-
red. The feathers of the back are marked in the
same manner; some of the scapular feathers are
barred on the edges. A small part of the throat is
white, the sides of head, neck, and nape are greyish-
white, marked with blackish-brown; the quills and
greater coverts are greyish-black, the coverts tipped
with white. The breast is black, or marbled with
black and white; the rest of lower parts white.
The legs and feet are a dark olive.

48 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

The female resembles the male in colour, but she
is larger ; in old birds there is scarcely any difference
between them as to plumage.

Dunlins may be met with in various states of
plumage, for, like their near neighbours in the
breeding season, the Ptarmigan, they appear in
different colouring at the different times of the year.
But the vast clouds that visit the mud-flats and slub-
ooze at the mouth of great tidal rivers, and along the
shores, are all in grey and white livery. A Dunlin
can be easily distinguished from a Sanderling in
winter plumage, if one little matter is borne in mind,
but not else—the Dunlin has a small hind toe which
the Sanderling has not. The nest is a slight hollow
lined with bits of sedge or grass, and little heath
twigs ; the eggs, four in number, vary in ground-
colour from grey green to greenish-yellow, or a
brownish tint marked all over with patches and
spots of amber brown and light purple grey. When
they first arrive, the birds that are shot in their
mottled plumage cause many animated discussions
among the shore-shooters.

There was snow in the streets of our fishing village
and on the roofs of the houses—deep snow. From
the rough, cobble-patched pavement it had been
shovelled off into the middle of the road, and as
there was not any traffic through the place this did
not matter; for, as the fisher-folks said, when it
thawed, all the snow water would run into the
creek at the bottom of the long up-and-down main
street.

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 49

It was certainly “a most dead-and-alive look-out,”
as some of them were wont to remark; but some
folks at least were stirring. For three fowlers
stepped out from the Royal George Inn, with their
long duck-guns under their arms; the locks, as
usual, bound round with the leg of an old worsted
stocking. Just as the three were tramping off, the
jovial landlord remarked—

“Surely you ain’t a-goin’ without Splashey, be ye,
Craft?”

‘“Well, me an’ Baulk an’ Josher reckins to, fur
the last time as we had him out, the jealous-headed
old fool druv a marble down his six-footer an’ busted
her ; his nose ain’t got quite right yet.”

“Well, cum back, an’ hev jist a tot of my most
pertickler ager-medicine at my expense. Don’t go
an’ leave Splashey out on it. It was only yesterday,
when he scooted over for his mornin’ half-pint o’
porter, as he said he reckoned he'd slip down
Chitney Ma’sh way, an’ wipe sum o’ yer eyes "bout
them ox-birds. He’s makin’ a pair o’ boots fur me:
jist hark at him hammerin’ at they soles on his
lap-stone. I ain’t in no hurry for’em. One on ye
go over an’ tell him so. Git him rigged up, his
new gun an all, and then bring him over here an’
I'll give him a good lot of this most pertickler. He
was most mighty high in the shootin’ line yesterday.”

In avery short time Splashey made his appearance
fully equipped for the Ox-birds, and as he smacked
his lips over the ager-medicine he said “he reckined
as he’d do somethin’ afore he got home.” When they

E

50 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

left, the landlord called Baulk back and whispered,
‘Let Splashey have a good pitch, fur he is most
oncommon high an’ mighty.” Splashey was a good
customer at the Royal George, hence the landlord's
solicitude. Down the street, along the quay, with
its snow-patched craft riding at anchor on the dark
water, just on the turn of ebb, over one marsh, then
the uplands, on and on, and at last Chetney Marshes,
and the tide at low ebb, and the fowl. Those of our
readers who may have fowled on the tide there will,
I think, bear me out in my statement that for hen-
footed fowl—the waders—the place was hard to beat,
at the same time it was a dangerous one. Mobs of
Curlews, clouds of Dunlins and other birds mixed
with them, and the Saddle-backed Cobs, the Black-
backed Gulls, were continually beating up and down,
well out of gun-shot, on the look-out for crippled
fowl. When the tide is dead out, cuts and gripes
remain, that may be crossed ; for the bottom is in all
of them paved with broken shells and stones, but
only in certain places where they drain at the mouth
of their inlets into the tide at its lowest ebb. All
round and above these cuts long tongues of sand,
shingle, and mud run in all directions down to the
tide.

Just off these spits, well within gun-shot, the fowl
flight by in thousands. The tide ebbs and flows
here with startling rapidity. The to all appearance
solid spits of sand, directly the tide turns—although
it is still at some distance—begin to ooze up and
bubble; you can see it shift about your feet. If

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 51

.in the eagerness for one more shot you have stayed
a little too long down with your fowl, dash through
the mouth of the inlet, now knee-deep, wade up
the slub, and consider yourself lucky that you have
gained the sea-wall.

Now the worthy host’s last injunctions had no-
thing sinister in their meaning, but he was confident
that Splashey, who was a far better shoemaker than
fowler, would do something as usual to make the
frequenters of his house laugh again; it was well
‘to keep things going cheerfully at his pub. . As is
‘the rule, each of the fowlers had posted himself
along shore, well out of range one of the other.
Our friend Splashey had his post all right; but no,
he must, as he termed it, “wipe t’others’ eyes if
possible.” Had he waited, the fowl, as the tide
made, would have flighted along shore; but he
could not do that. For the clouds of Ox-birds
showed, now white now dark, as they turned just
beyond the spit. It was too much, Splashey walked
out on the hard slub, crossed the mouth of the cut,
gained the spit, and there he was in his glory. As
he afterwards remarked, in what was meant to be
the most private manner, “all he had got to do was
to load an’ fire.” But he had been too busy to notice
the tide, and the first intimation of discomfort he
had was his boots sogging in the shifting sands that
he was standing on.

He rushed for the mouth of the cut. Too late!
his retreat was cut off; there was ten feet of water
there if a bare inch, and Splashey could not swim.

52 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

So he rushed up on the spit, and yelled his loudest,
as indeed he needed weli to do. Fortunately the
shooter nearest to him heard his voice and hailed
the others. When they arrived, he told them that
he ‘‘reckoned as Splashey was dumfoundered up,
-middlin’ close handy.”

Then they caught sight of him standing like a
post, holding on to his long duck-gun which he had
pressed down into the sand, a mass of seething water
between him and the shore.

“ There’s a smack in the crick with a skiff at her
painter—off you go, Baulk, hail her!” roared Craft ;
“tell’em the d—d old skate Splashey is a-drownin’.”

“Hold on to yer gun, ye old fool, or Ill half
kill ye whin I gits to ye; do ye hear? Stan’ up!
I’m a-comin’.”. Then the measured pull.of oars
could be heard in the rowlocks—pulled at best
speed—and a boat shot out of the creek and made
for the spit. -“ Hold up fur a minute; if yer slips
or lets go yer gun, I'll be the death on ye,” again
roared out Craft, utterly ignoring the fact that
it was impossible for him to get near, or to render
any assistance.

A few more strokes, and the boat shot up her
bows, grounding in the sand at Splashey’s feet.
Covered well with water, to say that he slipped
into the boat would be wrong, for he simply threw
himself into it. This caused Craft to roar out—

“Knock him down, Baulk, with yer oar, or he’ll
scuttle the boat.”

Very coolly Baulk took hold of Splashey’s coat-

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 53

collar with both hands, lifted him up, and then
plumped him down, at the same time daring him
to move. Equally coolly, he pulled the barrel of
his gun out of the sand and placed it in the boat.

“Give way!”

In a few moments Splashey was on solid ground
with his true friends. The first thing they did was
to shake hands with him in the most hearty manner
congratulating him on his escape; then, with that
strange contradiction common to human nature, they
swore again at him in the most plain terms. They’d
‘““‘a good mind to chuck him in agin, and drown
him fur a powder-wastin’ old fool.”

Baulk suggested ‘‘ager-mixtur”; but ‘“ Where
from ?”’ he was asked.

“From the looker’s,”
active dyke-leaper.

Now, although that Looker had in the course of
his ‘“dooty”” threatened Baulk with dire marsh-land
vengeance when he trespassed, he now handed him
a dumpy bottle with a smile, merely remarking “it
would be a pity to lose Splashey, for he made fust-
rate boots an’ shoes.”

When he could hold his head up a bit, for he
had been terribly unnerved, Craft asked him if ‘he'd
bin takin’ lessons in jumping from his old tom-cat.”
It looked like it the way he got in the boat; and
another, in mildly sarcastic tones, asked him if “he
thought he was tater dibbin’ when he stuck his gun-
barrel into that ’ere sand-spit, and why he had let
all his fowl float away ?”

very coolly answered thar

54 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL. OF GREAT BRITAIN

To all this banter Splashey merely replied that
he should like a drop more “ager-mixtur,” if any was
left. When they got him home he was got to bed
as quickly as possible; but it was some time before
the lap-stone was heard to rattle again beneath his
hammer.

The kind-hearted host of the Royal George re-
marked that many a true word was spoken in joke
at. times ; but when he said, “ git’ Splashey a place,
he never reckoned as the old feller was a-goin’ to -
pick one out fur himself like that ; but he’d find the
old boy in ager-mixtur till he came to hisself again.”

Splashey never went fowling after that incident.
I had the pleasure once of hearing him relate his
experiences on that sand-spit. According to his
account, he shot so many fowl that they would block
up a Sluice-gate if they all drifted there. One thing:
was noticed, if Josher, Baulk, or Craft were near
he could never be coaxed to speak about that day’s
sport.

The Dunlin or Ox-bird can be found in numbers
all round those coasts suited to its habits. So far
as my opinion goes, its flesh is certainly eatable, but:
not particularly good. Shore-shooters would miss
the Dunlin, if it left us, for there is a sale for them.
There is not the least fear of their being thinned
off; their numbers are legion.

The various factories now to be found in so many
places close to the edge of the tide have naturally
caused them to visit some of their once noted haunts
in diminished numbers; simply because their food-

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 55

supply has fallen off; the main bodies now go else-
where. It is, I think, one of the most interesting
of our sea-shore birds, being so very active and
clean-looking.

Very often when the tide is out, and the great
dreary mud-flats are bare, the Dunlins are the only
birds that enliven them. Bare flats are depressing
to look at without life of some kind. But these
fowl whirl over them, up and down and across,
now here, now there, at one time feeding or running
about, then up and away; for ever on the move.
Some of my most pleasant and valued experiences
have been gained when watching the quick-winged
and nimble-footed Dunlins.

The winter plumage of the Curlew-billed Sand-
piper is very near that of the Dunlin that it
feeds with, for we have killed both birds, when we
fired at what we thought were Dunlins only, that
ordinary fowlers would have picked up as Dunlins.
Of course the white upper tail coverts would dis-
tinguish it from the Dunlin; but when a north-
easter is blowing and salt spin-drift makes the eyes
water, trifles are not noticed. Another matter is
that we have shot old Dunlins with the bill bent
downwards nearly as far as that of the Curlew
Sandpiper. This bird has never nested in any part
of the United Kingdom. The female resembles
the male in both winter and summer plumage, but
she is larger.

The Curlew Sandpiper has the same habits as
the Dunlin, in fact if fowlers would examine their

536 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

birds a little more closely, they would in many
instances find they had got as many Curlew Sand-
pipers as Dunlins in winter plumage.

The Little Stint is a neat little wader, very like
the Dunlin in plumage, the black patch on the breast
alone excepted. It isa feathered wonder, nesting
on the Siberian tundras and other parts of Arctic
Europe. These birds are great flighters, being met
with in Africa and India. They visit the eastern
and southern parts of our shores; Sussex especially
at one time, before the mud-banks and flats were
reclaimed, was visited by Stints in considerable
numbers. As this miniature Dunlin, as it might
be called, mixes with them, it very frequently gets
into the shore-shooter’s bag. This is nothing sur-
prising, for when hosts of sparrows in late autumn
frequent the fields where corn has been cut and
carried, if you fire at them you will find other birds
drop besides sparrows, that have been feeding with
them on the same kind of food. And that is the
reason why Dunlins, Sanderlings, Curlew Sandpipers,
and Stints have all fallen to the shot when we have
been fowling along shore. In dead winter they all
feed alike, and frequent the same flats and slubs.

I have seen this bright, dashing little wanderer
in summer plumage; it does not take it long to
shoot from Norway here; possibly the bird may
yet be found nesting nearer home. Some of the
almost unvisited rock-stacks that it is impossible to
get near, except under the most favourable circum-
stances—and then one has to leave them again in

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 57

the most hurried manner—are covered in their rifts
and hollows with a vegetation peculiar to them-
selves, providing ample cover for birds. Grass
grows on all these stacks; and the situations are
certainly very high. Those competent to judge
think that, if certain dangerous rocks could be
properly explored in the breeding season round the
coasts of Scotland and the wild western coasts of
Ireland, some at present obscure matters respecting
bird life might be cleared up.

But the question is, how to get there? And a
still more difficult one would be, how to get away ?
Those that have sailed there will understand what
I mean. When I have picked upa small Stint I
have wondered that a little wader, only six inches
long from bill to tail, should be able to travel so
far; but on examination I found there was nothing
to wonder at, for the bird is exquisitely formed for
achieving long journeys.

The upper parts of the Common Sanderling’s
plumage varies; this is owing to a mixture of old
and new feathers; the full winter plumage is com-
pleted by December.

Before leaving this class of birds, so very difficult
to distinguish at times, let me advise my readers
never to differ with a fowler about names; for he
has known the birds by the names he gives them
from his childhood, and so has his father before
him. No more deadly insult can be offered to him
than that of a stranger coming and assuming that
he knows more about the birds than himself. The

58 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

most costly fowling-piece will not get you a shot at
fowl; but the fowlers can and will procure this
for you, if you do not air “ book-larnin’ on birds”
before them.

I have known some men to be placed in very
awkward predicaments by this kind of thing; once
let it get hinted that a ‘‘ knowin’ cruiser” is about
and the job is done. Something is sure to happen,
even when the gun is raised to the shoulder, to
spoil the shot. A plank pulled on one side of a
marsh-cut, for instance, is a serious matter in the
dusk for those who get there, for the mud sticks.
Class your birds at home, after you have got them,
or the fowlers have got them for you. When I
was younger, I was guilty myself of leaving one
person in a very queer fix for knowing more about
fowl than I did, after he had got me to go out with
him.

THE KNOT

(Tringa canutus.)

Mate.—The bill is greyish-black, margins at the
base of bill reddish. The upper part of the head, a
band from the bill to the eye, the hind-neck, fore-part
of back, scapulars, and wing coverts are ash grey;
the middle of each feather is dark grey. The hind-
part of the back and upper tail coverts are white, with
curved bands of black; the tail ash grey, the lower
parts white ; cheeks and fore-neck greyish, marked
with dark grey lines; legs and feet greyish-blue.

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 59

Length from bill to end of tail, ten inches. This is
the plumage of the Knot that is usually met with
here.

The full summer plumage is quite different. The
bill is black, head and lower parts light red ; some of
the feathers along the breast and belly white. The
upper parts purplish-black, the feathers margined
with light red, on the hind-parts tipped with white.
The primaries greyish-black ; tail ash grey, margined
with white. The eggs of this bird are not known.

THE PURPLE SANDPIPER.

(Tringa striata.)

Mate.—The bill, a little longer than the head, is
black, its base orange; iris brown, eyelids white,
the head and neck purplish-grey ; throat and line
over the eyes white. The back is glossy brownish-
black, with rich purple reflections, the feathers
margined with greyish-white. The primary quills
greyish-black edged with white ; legs and feet yellow.
Length, eight inches.

THE DUNLIN.
(Zringa alpina.)

Mave.—The bill, a little longer than the head, is
black ; iris brown. Upper plumage brownish-grey,
each feather having a dusky central line; sides of
head and neck similar, the fore-part of latter paler
in colour. From the bill over the eye there is

60 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

a greyish-white streak. Throat, breast, belly, and
lower tail coverts white; tail feathers ash grey ;
upper tail coverts blackish; legs and feet dark
olive. The bill is slightly bent down at the end.
This is the winter colouring, and the one in which
the Dunlin is usually seen on our coasts.

THE CURLEW-BILLED SANDPIPER.

(Tringa subarquata.)

Mate.—The bill black, half as long again as the
head, and considerably bent down towards the end ;
iris brown; upper plumage brownish-grey, each
feather with a dusky streak. Sides, fore-part of
neck, with a small portion of the breast, greyish-
white streaked with brownish-grey. A greyish-
white streak from the bill over the eye; upper
tail coverts white. Primary quills and coverts
greyish-black ; secondary coverts grey tipped with
white; tail feathers grey. Throat, breast, belly,
and lower tail coverts white; legs and feet dark
olive.

THE COMMON SANDERLING.

(Calidris arenaria.)

Called in different localities Ox-bird, Curwillet,
Stint, Sand Lark, and Towilly. In its winter plumage
so very like the Dunlin that ordinary observers
would not distinguish the difference between the
two birds. The summer plumage is different. Bill

SANDPIPERS AND THE SANDERLING 61

black; iris dusky; upper part of head black,
margined with light red and white; cheeks, neck,
fore-part of the breast,. and sides greyish - red
streaked with black. Feathers of the back and
scapular black in the centre, and light red towards
the edges, which are white; the two middle tail
feathers black, margined with red; the rest grey,
with lower parts white; legs and feet greenish
black. Length, from bill to end of tail, eight inches.
FeMALE.—Similar in plumage to the male.

CHAPTER VI
GREAT CURLEW AND WHIMBREL

Tue Great Curlews nest on the ground in a
hollow, under the shelter of heath tufts or stunted
willows, torey grass, or any other short moorland
cover. The nest is composed of dry grass, twigs of
heath, or other plants, and is what might be called
slovenly built, but it answers the builder’s purpose
admirably. The eggs, four in number, are very
large, being three inches long’; they vary in ground-
colour, being light olive or greenish-grey, or dull
yellowish-brown, spotted and blotched with umber
brown, very thickly sprinkled at the larger end ; even
the eggs vary in size.

This long-billed, long-legged, wary bird is asso-
ciated with wild scenery; be very sure that the
wailing cry of this most astute member of the wader
family will not be heard where cultivation shows. I
heard him in my earliest years, so early that I have
tumbled into the tide looking for him before I was
fit to be trusted forty yards away from home. J had
been shown one, and told where the man had got it ;

and so, child-like, I started off full of faith that I
62

t

GREAT CURLEW AND WHIMBREL 63

should see one alive at the bottom of the tidal street.
I reached the tide all right, but pitched into it head
first, and got hooked out, but no Curlew had made
its appearance.

A fine specimen is before me as I write, which
one of my fowling friends sent to me, so that I may
have my memory refreshed a little. It is necessary
to be pretty definite in asking for certain birds.
Once I required a Gull; the result was a large
basketful of live Cobs, and they were very lively
indeed.

There is a coast saying, not confined to our
particular part of it, that any man that has killed
seven Curlews has killed enough for a lifetime. |
have known six killed at one shot from a shoulder
gun, but it was a most exceptional shot; some fell
in the water, rough water too it was ; but the shooter
was his own water-spaniel, and he plunged in and
gathered his birds. If he had not done so, the Cobs,
the Black-backed Gulls, would have gathered them
for him. In some parts of the coast, birds in im-
mature plumage beat up and down the tide; great
brown speckled creatures these are, and as voracious
as vultures. It is most exasperating after a dirty
crawl only to cripple a Curlew, and then to see him
drop on the waves just out of range of a fowling-
gun. There he is, you can see him, but you will
never get him, although the wind is dead on shore,
and it is high tide; for those two birds coming up
with rapid beats of the wing are Cobs: their keen
eyes saw the effect of that shot a long way off, and

64 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

they mean to profit by it. You may fire if you like,
but you will not frighten them; they know as well
as you do that they are well out of gun-shot. They’
lower their flight, drop their feet down, and settle
one on each side of that Curlew.

Then you hear a fierce cackling, and see the
Curlew lifted off the water and carried along be-
tween them, the Gulls’ wings threshing against each
other. Their prey is dropped; some digs from their
powerful bills and a few shakes are given, and it is
all ever; and a few bunches of feathers go canting
away over the tide. For a few minutes the birds
float, no doubt wondering that their prey has gone
‘so soon. Then they flight once more, quite ready
for a duck next time if they can get one, or for some
dead fish that has been washed on shore. One
would not know which to give the palm to, for being
wide awake ; Cobs or Curlews are both hard to get
at. As a rule, Curlews, when the tide is full, visit
the upland sheep-pastures, or the fields with root
crops. A few fine old birds feed in the gripes just
off the tide; it is these odd birds that get the
number of their mess wiped out at times. Now
and then they are a little out of their reckoning, but
it is dangerous work going after them, the surround-
ings are so treacherous; it is wild sport, that is all
one can say for it. If I had the choice between a
Gull and Curlew, for eating, I should unhesitatingly
pick up the Gull, although he has been called a
carrion feeder. Domestic ducks are not very par-
ticular what they deal with, yet no one calls them

CurLEw.

GREAT CURLEW AND WHIMBREL 65

coarse feeders. A well-fed Gull has a coat of fat on
the body, take that off before cooking, and you may
wish you had more of Gull.

A long-billed bird uses his bill with as much
dexterity as a short-billed one, only for a dif-
ferent purpose. The Curlew’s food is varied to
a degree; it consists of small creatures left in the
tide-pools, some of them not more than one inch
deep in water, sand-worms and hoppers. When
he leaves the tide for the upland pastures, small
snails and insects form his fare, worms also, and
on the moors some of the wild berries in their
season.

In Scotland this bird is called the Whaup, and it
is considered in some shape or way as a feathered
evil ; why, I have not yet been able to learn, although
the legendary lore of Scotland has interested me for
many years. The old form of.supplication to be
delivered from all ‘lang-nebbed things o’ evil,”
included the wary Curlews. Witches and warlocks
were always represented as having long hooked
noses, and the Curlew has a long curved bill; but
the real reason I should imagine would be that wild
cry of the bird when heard through the mist, the
bird itself being unseen, In time no doubt this
superstition about the Whaup will die out, but not
yet awhile. England too has some superstitious
views of bird life that are in full force still. There
is a folk-lore of natural life common to the United
Kingdom that one would be very sorry to see pass

away. No true naturalist yet but what was well
¥

66 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

acquainted with the folk-lore of animals and birds.
I do not refer to scientists.

When the Curlews feed in the turnip-fields, they
come to grief, for the large leaves hide the birds.
Not that they are not on the look-out ; but the view
from the leaves is limited, a pointer and double-
barrel will stop a couple, or, if the shots are very
favourable ones, it may be more. To look at, after
they have been shot, they are fine brave birds; but
it is their feathers that make them look large.
When picked, there is not much serious feeding to
be got from them. Wild-fowl dinners are exactly
like fish dinners, very unsatisfactory, and of little
value if you have not dined off a joint first. Any
healthy youngster would eat the whole of a wild
duck, especially if he were what the old ladies call a
growing lad.

Sometimes on the bare uplands those who tended
the sheep made wattled enclosures to give partial
shelter when the winds blew keenly from the tide;
if artificial shelters of some kind are not formed, the
sheep wander and find “loo” places for themselves.
When one or two Curlews got near the sheep, these
shelters could be used by the shooters in order to
make up to them, but if a companion flighted over,
the alarm was given instantly and off went the lot.
If things went on rightly, there was the crawl inside
the wattled hurdles, then the peep through. Yes,
there is a fine fellow, he appears to be picking up
little shell snails; he picks something up every now
and again, holds his head up so that he can pass it

GREAT CURLEW AND WHIMBREL 67

along his bill until he can swallow it, and that done
he searches for another. He is there, and so are
you ; move you dare not, for there is no chance of a
shot yet. Your quarry has run farther away; but
something is not quite to his taste, he comes back
just within shot ; something has made him suspicious,
for his head is up. It is no use yet; rise you must
not, he may turn his back and feed again. He does
so, and now for it! The gun is clear for a rise, but
directly the top of a cap gets above the hurdles he
sees it, and rises screaming with fright, as a Curlew
can scream. Missed after all! Shot above him as
he went away. What’s that crack ? He’s down with
a broken wing, one or two pellets hit him on the
wing-bone and it has snapped; but not near the
body : it is a very bad case of wing-tip. Now catch
him! Do not hurry at the start or you will be
winded ; that Curlew is in better racing trim than
you are,

Take it steady! How he does run and scream;
putting up a covey of Partridges and a trip of Ring
Dotterels that had come here from the tide, as they
so very often do. After a long run he gets entangled
in some creeping brambles and we get him; not to
kill, for he may be got to feed, and I think he can
be studied for a bit. The wildest birds are the most
confident, if you can but get them to eat.

Birds, like common humanity, are seriously in-
fluenced by hard times. I have seen mobs of
Curlews when food was in profusion and all went
well; and they were as cautious then in prosperity

68 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

as at any other time; it is the nature of the bird to
be so. Those who have met with him on dreary
shores where he certainly has never had cause to
suspect mischief, have found him as wary there as
on our own shores. Even in hard times,—hard for
all created things,—when the starved birds wailed
and cried, and their feeding-grounds were un-
covered only to freeze again before they could get
their crops a quarter full, they were as suspicious as
ever; although no one shot at them, for the simple
reason that they were not worth wasting powder and
shot over. They had just got strength to flit from
place to place, and that was all. When the weather
did break, in about three days they were as brisk as
ever, for this class of birds feeds day and night after
a fast, as the tide serves, in order to make up for
short commons.

I do not wish my readers to think that I have
braved worse weather on the coast than other people,
but I have been out when the weather was quite
bad enough, by night and by day. I have seen
statements made that certain fowl feed by day,
others by night; I know this is true, as a rule, but
there are no hard-and-fast rules with shore-birds or
water-fowl ; they feed how and when they can best
get it. When the Gulls rush on the fields like Rooks,
and feed there, one may see great grey and white
patches of them. Shore-birds go on short food. I
have seen three feet of shingle on some of their feeding-
spots, and there it remained until a contrary tide to
the one that had hurled it there swept it away again.

GREAT CURLEW AND WHIMBREL 69

Curlews have been the means of my exploring
wild places ; where, if I never shot a Curlew all the
day, I did other birds, just for specimens, and I
observed far more. If there is one bird one may
respect for being wide-awake, it is the Curlew.

The Whimbrel or May-bird is the Jack Curlew of
the shore-shooters. The female resembles the male
in colour, but she is two inches larger than he.
These birds, like their larger relatives the Common
Curlews, vary in size, so that it is best to give in all
cases the ordinary measurements. Whimbrels are
seen about the coast-line in May, and for this reason
they are in some places called May-fowl. In early
summer, and in autumn too, they are met with,
previous to their departure. The Whimbrel has
been known to breed in Shetland, leaving again
when the season is over. My own personal obser-
vations of him have been made from the deck of a
vessel, drifting down mid channel in a dead calm,
when the tide was at its lowest ebb. There was not
the least need to use glasses, we were quite near
enough for any purpose, well within gun-shot.

Had the boat been brought over for a shot, the
fowl would not have been gathered, for no one
would have ventured there. The whole length of
that slub-flat, left bare at ebb tide, was full of slush-
mud quakes that a boat oar would not fathom. The
fowl knew they were safe when the tide was out,
so they frequented the slub there in considerable
numbers. Bright-looking creatures they are, as they
run and dabble about ; when on the wing the white

70 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

part of their backs shows very conspicuously. They
have a sharper flight even than the Great Curlew ;
not many are brought to bag in the season, either
of Jacks or full Curlews ; in some parts and seasons
not a dozen, all told.

THE GREAT CURLEW.

(Numenius arquata.)

Mare.—The bill is flesh colour at the base, the
rest black; iris brown. The head and neck are
light yellowish-red, tinged with grey, each feather
having a central blackish-brown streak ; the fore-
part of back and scapulars are darker, the dark
markings broader, and continued to the tip of the
feathers. Small wing coverts lighter, but similarly
marked ; primary coverts brownish-black, with the
tips white ; primary quills are deep brown, the first
with a white shaft. The first five quills are un-
spotted on the outer web, the rest spotted; back
white, with lengthened dark marks; upper tail
coverts barred with black. The tail is white, tinged
with red towards the end, having twelve brownish-
black bands; breast, sides, and belly white, the first
spotted, the second with broader spots and bars ;
legs and feet blue grey. The bird’s length, from tip
of bill to end of tail, is twenty-five inches.

The female is similar to the male in her plumage.
These birds vary in size; some reach twenty-seven
inches.

GREAT CURLEW AND WHIMBREL 71

THE WHIMBREL.
(Mumenius pheopus.)

Mate.—The bill black ; base of lower mandible
pale brown; iris brown. Upper part of head dark
brown, with a central streak of brownish-white,
mottled with dusky colour, and on each side a streak
of the same passing over the eye; eyelids and chin
whitish. Sides of head and neck greyish-white,
streaked with brown; fore-part of back, scapu-
lars, and wing coverts dusky, with whitish spots.
Primary quills dusky, spotted along both margins
with white; hind-part of back white; tail and
coverts greyish-white, barred with dusky colour.
Fore-part of breast streaked with dusky colour;
hind-part of breast and belly white; legs and feet
blue grey. Length, from bill to tail, seventeen
inches.

CHAPTER VII

MORE WADERS

Tue Bar-tailed Godwits are also called May-birds
on some parts of the coast: local names are often
slightly confusing, The names May-bird, Poor
Willie, Stone Plover, and Yarwhelp are all applied
to the Godwit. .

When the young birds reach us in their first flight,
direct from their nesting haunts, they are speckled
with brown and buff, and when they first arrive they
are of a most confiding nature, but this wears off
very soon. On some parts of the coast they are
very local, and few in number ; but where sand-bars
are of great extent, and mile after mile of very
dangerous flats are left nearly dry at ebb tide, there
you may look for and see Godwits.

As to circumventing them, well, that is quite a
different matter. When driven off the bar and flats
they go to the rough pasture fields and keep a look-
out there. But not for all the Godwits that visit our
shores would I go where I have been for them, and
without getting one. Others can tell the same tale;

I am not alone in that boat.
72

MORE WADERS 73

The Black-tailed Godwit is, comparatively speak-
ing, rare. Why it has been named Black-tailed I do
not know, for it has as much white as black about it.

The little coot-footed swimmers known by the
name of the Grey Phalaropes are feathered wonders,
being found far out at sea, numbers of them busily
engaged on masses of floating sea-weeds, running
nimbly over them, feeding or floating like corks,
hundreds of miles from land. This nimble swimmer
breeds far north, as far as it can get, and immense
numbers visit us now and again; and so exhausted
are these fowls at times, after continued storms, that
they will permit themselves to be caught by the
hand. In the year 1866 a large flight appeared
round the eastern and southern coasts, and in
September 1870 hundreds were found near Brighton
after a heavy south-east gale. They would not have
come like that if they had not been forced by winds
and waves to do so; the wonder is that the small
innocent creatures were able to reach our shores
alive. They look like large grey-and-white moths
hovering over the breakers—small swimmers for
such wide waters. When sea-birds float in, battered
to death by wind and water, there are heavy hearts
in fishing quarters if boats are out. There is only
one hope left, and that is that they may have made
harbour somewhere.

In summer this little Coot-foot is very different,
for the upper parts are dark brown edged with
yellowish-red, the lower parts light red. The
beautiful little bird has been found swimming and

74 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

nodding its head in a farm-yard pond among the
geese and ducks; but there it was shot, as a matter
of course.

The Red-necked Phalarope is a small swimmer
that breeds now in the northern districts of Scotland
in very limited numbers. The insatiate greed of
collectors, or those who collect for them, has in
some places exterminated the innocents. We are
well acquainted with the details of that business, a
far from creditable one—mere bird slaughter in fact.
The confiding innocence of the creature leads to its
destruction. Northern regions are the real breed-
ing-places of this Phalarope ; but a few, as we have
stated, nest in Scotland and the isles, leaving when
the duties of incubation are over. For good reasons,
not one of the few nesting sites now left will be
mentioned by me. The females of the Grey and
Red-necked Phalaropes are similar in colouring to
the males, but they are larger and brighter coloured.
The males do the principal part of the hatching-out
business, and look after the young ones when
hatched; thus reversing the general order of
domestic bird life.

The Phalaropes may be called wandering migrants :
they come and go as the winds and waves compel
them. Some migrants can be looked for in their
appointed seasons with some degree of certainty,
but this can hardly be said of these two species. As
might naturally be expected from the long flights
they take, they are swift-winged birds and strong
withal, as they well need be.

MORE WADERS 75

The nest is formed of dry swamp grass, being
about the size of a Tit-lark’s, but deeper ; it contains
four eggs, dull buff in ground-colour, marked with
various-sized blotches of dark reddish-brown.

I have had the good fortune to watch those grace-
ful birds the Black-and-white Avocets in a living
state; very few illustrations give the idea of their
dainty lightness. As to the bill, it looks as if two
very slight pieces of whalebone had been curved
upwards; but the bird uses it in the most adroit
manner, never probing, but sweeping from side to
side with it, collecting food out of the liquid slub
and shifting sands. When on flight, they are most
conspicuous birds.

The Avocet once nested in my own native
marshes of North Kent, where the Thames and the
Medway meet the tide, on those treacherous flats
which are cut into by channels, cuts, dykes, shifting
sands, and “‘ gripes,” a moist state of everlasting ooze
and grey blight. The locality is not much altered
in some places even now, for the simple reason that
nothing caz be done to alter it. And just over the
water, as they call the Essex flats and shores, are
the legendary sanctuaries for the fowl. Our own
side was dotted with them, but these were only
supposed to be a few discontented stragglers that
had flighted from over there: full of mystery and
full of fowl were those Essex flats. The fowlers on
the Kentish flats would never even have dreamed
of going just over the water, or the Essex fowlers of
coming over to the Kentish shores, They were

76 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

fiercely conservative as a class, and would have
fought for the prescriptive rights of their own fore-
shores. * Cobblers, Awl-ducks, Scoopers, Yelpers, and
Black-and-white Flighters were the names given to
the Avocets.

The famous Romney Marsh was another favourite
locality for them. What a lot of bird-lore have we
treasured up from there! for the great flat was
credited, and not without reason, as being the great
sanctuary for all kinds of “strange furrin fowl.” 1
remember when one of our fowlers brought a little
Bittern and a Godwit from Essex, and they were
unanimously reckoned up as ‘“ Romney Marsh
flighters.” If strange fowl were shot elsewhere,
they were called ‘‘ Frenchers,” a very simple way of
settling matters, but certainly not one that threw
much light on the study of ornithology. However,
it passed muster at that time.

All kinds of fowl, full-webbed, half-webbed, and
hen-footed, have risen screaming, quacking, and
whistling, disturbed by the tramp of great cart-
horses, teams of them, borrowed without leave for
running a cargo of contraband over the marshes.
Most accurate in their descriptions of the fowl were
those old shore-shooters. Names were nothing, Latin
ones especially, as we knew the local names; the
men only had to reel off their experiences, and | for
one listened most attentively. What they had not
seen one day, very likely they would the next ; in
fact all my time, when no one else had a claim on it,
was passed with the shooters and the local bird-

MORE WADERS 77

preservers. And they also were shore-shooters ;
they never set a bird up in a false position or with
unnatural surroundings.

None of them knew exactly what fowl did visit
those places; but I am sure of one thing, birds that
are considered very rare now were common then ;
sometimes the shots at rare birds are snap-shots,
frequently missed ; those of my readers who have
made them will know why. A good shot frequently
does not drop his bird. Shooting on the flats is not
like shooting Partridges ; but the duffer, if no one is
near him, of course never misses, and he always
brings fowl home—bought ones. I have found it a
little awkward to be asked to admire a couple of
stale Dun-birds as freshly-killed Teal.

The Black-winged Stilt is a long-legged bird that
has been met with as a wandering migrant, so we
may just notice it here. At one time, before the
fens were drained, these Stilts visited them. Nothing
could be more natural, for they could wade or swim
in the shallower splashes to their hearts’ content.
Cultivation has done much, but when the fens and
cars! were drained, the whole fen fauna went with
the water—animals, birds, fish, insects, and reptiles—
and the Stilts that very rarely come to us now can
only be classed as long-legged wanderers.

The Greenshank is a shy bird that breeds on the
lonely moors and mosses in the northern parts of
Scotland. It is not common even there, in com-

1 A pool used to be called a car. The word is still used locally
rt marsh. :

78 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

parison with other birds of the same family. The
nest is like that of the Lapwing, and the eggs, four
in number, are greenish-buff in ground-colour,
sprinkled all over with spots of dark brown, irregular
in size, and blotches of light purple grey. The
Greenshank, like most waders, perches at times :
as the Heron is quite at home in the trees, why
should not the small waders be so also? They
certainly are now and again, but not to the extent
that quiet fisher, the Heron, is. This bird will decoy
a man or a dog away, if possible, if either comes
where it is nesting. The nests of all this family of
birds are hard to find, for any tussock or tuft of
moor tangle growing on the thousands of detached
hummocks will hide them. Besides this, if you
know that a false step will sink you up to your
waist in peat-bog, you are not able to give your
undivided attention to the matter.

Shy and wary to a degree as this bird is, a female
has allowed herself to be lifted off her eggs when
these were just on the point of hatching off, without
flying off. Sometimes the bird visits, for a short
space, inland waters.

Some birds, so to speak, compel attention, and the
Greenshank when met with is one of these; and such
are the Yellowshanks and the dusky Redshanks,
which we shall only name here, for they are not
ordinary fowl, or at all events not likely to be met
with by ordinary fowlers. The bird under notice
sets you conjecturing what those desolate haunts of
his in northern lands must be like. Desolate they

| OESE

Cie,

OMIA Miss,
We ogy

GREENSHANK.

MORE WADERS 79

are so far as human life is concerned, but teeming
in the short breeding season with bird life of many
kinds.

It is not pleasant work exploring soft places in
the season in order to look at the nesting arrange-
ments of waders, for the insect life that is there in
clouds, forming the principal part of their food, will
bite you horribly, the midges worst of all; but such
matters have tobe endured somehow. There is one
comfort, and that is, when one has made remarks of
a forcible but vague nature about midges, no one
has been within a mile or two, so they have gone
unrecorded.

The Redshank is also called the Red-legged
Horseman, Pool Snipe, Red-legged Snipe, Sand-
cock, Teuke, and Yelper, and these are only some
of the names that the bird is known by. The nest,
placed on a tuft or in a tussock, is only a slight
hollow, lined with a few blades of swamp vegetation ;
and the eggs, four in number, are pale greenish-
grey in ground-colour, blotched and spotted with
blackish-brown and reddish-brown. The difference
in the two states of plumage is very slight ; in the
breeding season the dark parts are deeper in tone
and more glossy, and the slender markings on the
sides are more defined.

The Yelper he is called with us, and well does
the bird deserve his name. Not that he is so par-
ticularly shy, for the very fact of his being seen and
heard so frequently puts that on one side; but yelp
he does, and as arule the bird yelps out of gun-shot.

80 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

If a few pairs are breeding you would never know,
and in some cases never think it possible for them
to be there; but they cannot keep quiet. Before
you are near their nests they come to meet you,
yelping their loudest. Then is the time to admire
the sober beauty of the Redshank’s plumage, as the
birds shoot over and around you in strange flights.
One curious position is when they hang poised, as
it were, for a moment, with the wings bent down,
and their red legs straight out under their tails, of
course yelping their loudest.

The Redshanks, like the Lapwing, will visit a
favourite breeding haunt even if serious alterations
have taken place there—serious as regards the birds
— if only a bit is left as it used to be. Only a short
time back, on a strip of coarse torey marsh close to
the walls of a large dockyard, near the mouth of a
tidal river thronged with craft, the Redshanks nested
in security through all the sights and sounds which
were close to them. They were near their old
feeding-grounds, and they could have bred there
in perfect security ; but no, they must come close
up to the dockyard walls, for reasons known to
themselves alone: the same motive, I suppose, that
leads the Missel Thrush to leave the woods and
build on some solitary tree on a gentleman’s lawn.

That shore-shooters say hard things about this
bird is not to be wondered at. Of course it would
be simply ridiculous to imply that the birds have
any motive for their yelping; it is, as they say,
“the cussed yelper’s natur.” The bird, in fact,

MORE WADERS 8r

except when resting, is always in a state of restless
activity ; even when he settles he is not able to stand
still, for he bobs up and down all the time. No law
is given to a Redshank, on the wing or on the
ground he is pulled on, if within range.

In out-of-the-way fishing hamlets, at the end of
wide creeks, some of them five miles long, with no
houses between them and the tide, the water lapped
the door-sills, and the fowl waited on the tide.
From the very nature of the creeks and the salt
flats on either side of them, food for the fowl was
in unlimited quantities. I have started with a com-
panion for better fowl, and when not five minutes’
walk from our house we have put up a Yelper from
the side of a rotten pile; he had been prospecting
round. Then he has shot off zig-zagging from one
side of the creek to the other, making a terrible
row.

‘Bad job that,” says our companion; “he'll rouse
some more.”

He did so. The creek was, as they term it, “ full
o’ fowl,” for the tide had just ebbed ; but the Yelpers
had upset the lot, even the Ox-birds and Sander-
lings were not to be got at. When we returned,
after four hours’ hard work, I had a couple of
Sanderlings, and my companion a Woodcock Owl,
that had got up out of the bents.

We owed this to the Yelpers. Such things are not
to be helped or provided for; they are there, and
you know you must put up with it. There is one
consolation, what the guns miss getting at, the flight-

G

82 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

nets catch. They do dash into these at any rate;
and you may see a grim smile on the face of the
net-setter as he takes them out, remarking—
“There’s a few more damned Yelpers settled.”

The birds are fair eating; so that a catch of a
dozen Redshanks is at least profitable. From a
shooter’s point of view, the bird is a sad nuisance to
those who wander by flats, marshes, and lonely fore-
shores, carrying a gun more for company than any
other purpose; and a gun is very good company,
never making a noise unless you wish it to do so.
This restless, shrill-voiced bird is one of the greatest
ornaments that frequent such places; he is so well
shaped ; in fact one may call him a well-set-up bird.
When on the slub, no matter if it is hard or soft, he
is a difficult bird to sight, whether he be following
the receding tide, or nimbly getting his food on the
flow-up; for the upper plumage falls in with the
grey slub, and the light under-parts with the white
stones and foam-bells scattered about on the slub.

He has vexed me enough in past times, but that
is nothing ; he has done the same with others, arid
his race will continue to do it all the time the tide
flows up and down the creeks, slubs, and sand-flats.
If I were asked to pick out a bird that should be a
representative type of his family for alertness and
dashing activity in all seasons and in all weathers,
I should certainly pick out our old acquaintance the
Redshank.

That dashing wanderer the Green Sandpiper is
always on the move, coming and going with his

MORE WADERS 83

peculiar whistle in the most erratic manner. You
will not be able to look at a Green Sandpiper for
many minutes, under the most favourable circum-
stances, in this country; at least such has been my
experience. He comes and goes with his whistle, a
kind of feathered express. Up to the present time
this bird has not been found breeding in England,
or rather the eggs have not been found. As this
Sandpiper lays its eggs and hatches them out in the
deserted nests of other birds, or in old dreys of
squirrels, and as this is not at all known in a general
way, it is not to be wondered at if he remains a
hideling. Who would think of looking in the nest
—deserted of course—of a Crow, a Wood Pigeon,
Blackbird, Jay, or Thrush for the eggs or young
of a dashing wader like this one? Yet soitis. A
northern forester found this fact out, and he com-
municated his discovery to the naturalists of this
country some time ago. As usual, previous to this
important discovery—one that was very soon ap-
propriated—full descriptions of the eggs and nests
had been given, stating that the birds built on the
swamp grounds; of course descriptions written by
those who had never seen them. From what |
have seen of this bird, I suspect that it has been
hatched out in the very wild parts of Surrey, Sussex,
and Hampshire, where we have at times met with
it, but none too often. :

Those who have been used to the ways of waders
from childhood, in their nesting season, can tell by
certain movements, which it would be perfectly useless

84 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

to try to explain, if they are likely to carry out in-
cubation in certain places. I do not state that this
bird has hatched out, but if certain signs are to be
depended on, and I think they are, there is the
more than bare probability that it has done this,
unknown to all. A pair is before me as I write,
exquisitely set up, and they were procured from one
of the counties above-mentioned. They were shot,
the male and female, resting on the bare bough of
a low scrub fir that overhung the margin of a
large shallow sandy pool, but not by myself.

The eggs, four in number, vary in their ground-
colour, as most eggs do, from buff to olive, or buffish-
white spotted with dark red brown and pale grey
brown. If any of my readers who are egg col-
lectors should have the luck to find a clutch like
this, they may be sure they have the eggs of the
Green Sandpiper, so called from the greenish tone
of the dark parts of its plumage. I think that the
name of Wood Sandpiper ought to have been given
to this bird instead of the one that it has. The
Green Sandpiper is, as a very old acquaintance
gone home long ago used to say, “the very ac-
tivity” among the trees and bushes.

Snipes also perch at times. What is there to pre-
vent their doing so? Their lissom toes cling to any-
thing, as will those of a Jack-hern. A Moorhen
can, when it thinks fit, stand on one leg and hold
its food in the other, when it feeds like a parrot. I
have seen it do this, and the toes are certainly long
enough. Some writers have denied this fact, simply

MORE WADERS 85

because they had never seen these things. Even
the common Sky-lark has, in the most grave man-
ner, been denied the power of perching ; and, worst
of all, the Sandpipers have not been credited with
the powers of swimming and diving. As one of
my acquaintances said, when he brought one to me
warm from the water, to identify it, “Oh, Jerusa-
lem! Can’t they just!”

The Wood Sandpiper has bred in this country ;
but that is a record of the past, and we have only
described it in the Appendix for the purpose of
identification, if met with.

The nest of the Common Sandpiper is a slight
one, placed under cover of some tuft of heather or
wiry grass, not far from the edge of the water, or in
a slight hollow by the side of a moss-covered stone.
The eggs, four in number, are placed with the small
ends together; they are very large for the size of
the bird, glossy cream-coloured or reddish-white in
ground-colour, covered with dots and spots of purple
brown and purplish-grey.

This lively, neatly-formed bird arrives in England
early in April. The angler looks on it with pleasure,
for the bird frequents the reaches of rivers, and the
margins of trout-streams, where pools and pebbly
shallows alternate with mixed sand and pebbles along
the margin of the stream, bordered with trees and
meadow-land. There you will see the Sandpiper,
Weet-weet, Fiddler, Willywicket, or Water-Junket.

Where you see the bird nimbly tripping, you
will find fish in the stream or river, as the case

86 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

may be. When the birds arrive they are in full
breeding plumage, for the Sandpiper moults before
coming to us, and it moults again after it has left
England. It nests within a couple of miles from
where I live, in Surrey, along the river-banks, stone-
littered, covered with ferns and grasses to the very
edge of the water, that runs in a most wayward
fashion; here a narrow throat, running through
some considerable wide beds of pebbles, shoots into
a deep wide pool. From the pool the water ripples
merrily over a shallow a few inches in depth; then
for a space there is a run of fairly deep water, and
after that a long run of shallows.

And here the Sandpiper is at home. He runs,
flits up and down, now here now there, piping ; now
on some bough or stick, or bobbing along the margin
of the water. A creature full of happy vitality, like
the Ring Dotterel, the bird has the look of innocence
about it. As his food consists of insects in mature
and immature form, the sides of the streams provide
food for it in abundance. The young are most
nimble little creatures, running about directly they
are hatched out; the down that covers them is
greyish-brown above, with a brownish-black band
down the back, the lower parts white. When they
scurry out of their slight nest, as your footsteps go
crunch crunch on the pebbles when you near them,
you would walk through them without seeing one, if
they would but keep still. But this they are not
inclined to do, for their parents are anxious about
them. Some little mites shoot over the pebbles

MORE WADERS 87

into the water, where for a few seconds you see
them carried along the edge by the rapid current
like so many tiny Gulls; then they are gone. You
need not waste time trying to find them, for you
certainly will not do so; the parents have shot
down the stream and are calling to them.

One nest found in a hollow of the river’s bank,
with four young ones, was gently lifted and placed
in a cage,—this can be done if you know how to do
it—and the cage was placed where the nest had
been taken from. A thin string was fixed on the
door of the cage, leading some distance from it. The
little creatures piped for “ Mother” and she answered,
running swiftly up to the cage containing her brood.
The door was pulled a little way open, and in she
went to her young ones; then the door was gently
pulled to. This was effected in order that a drawing
might be made from them, and directly that was
finished the mother was let out, very loth to go, and
the nest with the young in it was placed where it
had been taken from. They were none the worse
for their slight detention. I have never found very
great difficulty in getting at creatures, if no one was
in the vicinity except myself.

Other creatures can be seen where the Fiddler
goes through his light-hearted performances. Oh,
the number of things some people miss seeing
because they are not able to keep still! Restless
beings, some of these, who will tell you they have a
passionate love for nature,—a pet phrase just now,
“-yet who will in five minutes alarm all creatures

88 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

within a mile of themselves, furred, finned, or feath-
ered. They will just frighten a good trout to his
hover, when he is gingerly feeding at the throat of a
pool on the fat may-fly that comes floating down;
not because he is hungry, but for the simple reason
that he is unable to leave the luscious morsels alone,
although he is full almost to his gullet.

The river-side is quiet here, very quiet ; you hear
only the faint rustle of young leaves and the ripple
of the clear water ; with the exception of a keeper
who may chance to come along the narrow track by
the river, you may not see a living soul all the day.

It is beyond the limits of an angler’s endurance
to see a good fish feeding in the season and not
have a try for it, if he has his rod with him. But, as
our old fishing friend Billy used to observe—‘‘ Some
things is werry dubersome. You wants to turn
things over a bit, and fish with your head.”

On the feed again ; just a lazy suck, barely making
a ring. It is too much, he will be tried for anyhow.
The walking-stick rod is put in trim; the finest gut
trace and silk line, a cobweb-looking affair but
strong, is arranged. Then the considering cap is
put on. It is a warm May day, light vapour clouds
drifting along ata snail’s pace. It will never do to
cast up stream to reach him; cobweb as it is, he
will see it as he watches at the throat of the pool.
So we observe a pair of Fiddlers on the opposite
side of the river for a time. It runs narrow here ;
and one of the birds runs along the edge and picks
up a may-fly from the water. This gives us an idea:

MORE WADERS 89

we walk below the pool, well away, and quickly
wash our hands. When they are dry, we search the
sedges and capture two fat may-flies; a gentle nip
with the thumb and fore-finger and they are dead.
Then, very gently, we fix one on the hook, the head
coming just over the shank; the other we fix the
reverse way, the head only just covering the point
of the hook. Then we are ready. Walking away
from the water in a kind of half-circle, we drop on
our hands and knees, and crawl to a little above the
throat of that pool. Then we rest a bit and take
our hat off, see that all is free, and with a gentle
side-cast drop the two flies about six feet from where
the fish lies. Down they float a little under water,
as half-drowned flies do at times. It was too much
for him to resist. There wasa bit of a boil up, just a
little, and we have him; that is, he is hooked, but
-not landed ; a different thing altogether. We rise
to our feet instantly, the top of our light rod being
curved more than we care to see; but there is no
help for it; the fact is he has deceived us, by his
gentle rising, as to his weight, or rather size. Every
moment we expect our line to go, or that there will
be a smash of the very light top joint ; but no. Then
up he shoots, a short thick stocky fish with rich
brown back well spotted, and a belly the colour of
gold. Once more he shoots up; then he bores for
the bottom, all the pressure being put on that is
compatible with safety. But it-is no use, down he
goes. Then, snick! there is the rod perfectly
straight, and the line hanging limp by the side of it ;

90 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

he has only been lip-hooked, has got on the bottom
and rubbed it out. We make a few remarks in
strict confidence to ourselves, and in the most deli-
berate manner, for there is not the least cause for
hurry. We take our rod to pieces, wind our line on
a large cork, and devote the rest of our time to the
study of Sandpipers.

If not disturbed, the Fiddler will make itself con-
tented on any small gudgeon stream. Things are
strangely altered of late years. One stream that any
boy could leap over I have seen all alive with the
delicious little fish. The stream is there still, but
the gudgeons are gone and so are the Sandpipers.
This bird can swim and dive well. I have met with
it in very different localities, on the tops of the hills,
by the side of small rain-pools, by small dykes in
water meadows, running about close to houses near
the water and by the river-side.

Not that it is numerous, but a few nesting pairs,
distributed at distances wide apart, by their ceaseless
activity, running and flying up and down with their
cheerful pipings, give life to very beautiful, but at the
same time lonely places. So lonely and far away
from man’s direct influence are some of these, that
the otter fishes in broad daylight, bringing his
catch to bank and eating it there.

Wild creatures do not take the least notice of the
rush of railway trains, they know no harm will come
from them. The Sandpipers and otters live in
peace close to where these are continually rushing
up and down.

MORE WADERS 91

THE BAR-TAILED GODWIT.
(Limosa lapponica.)

Mate.—The bill, flesh-coloured and dusky to-
wards the end, is four inches long and slightly bent
upwards; head and neck pale grey, with brown
grey streaks. Back and scapulars grey, streaked
with brown; hind-part of back white ; tail feathers
ash-coloured. A few of the outside feathers show
some white splashes, but these are not bars; in
fact unless the tail is widely spread they cannot be
seen. Throat, breast, and other lower parts white ;
legs greyish-blue; the feet darker. Length, from bill
to tail, fifteen inches. This is the plumage in which
they are seen on the north-east coast in winter.

ASH - COLOURED Gopwits. — The intermediate
changes are very varied. I have seen them all,
and must confess that they are a little bit puzzling.
Generally speaking, they are chestnut red in the
summer and ash grey in winter. When on flight in
winter plumage they look very like Whimbrels.

The females are larger than the males.

THE BLACK-TAILED GODWIT.
(Limosa belgica.)

Mate.—The bill is straight, orange yellow for
a part of its length, the rest black; iris brown.
Head and neck brownish-grey, streaked with grey
brown; fore-part of back and scapulars brownish-
grey, darker in the middle; those on the hind-

92 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

part of the back darker. The upper tail coverts
white, with black tips; tail white at base, the
rest black, with white tips to the feathers; wing
coverts greyish-brown, with paler margins; quills
brownish-black tipped with white. A broad band
of white crosses the wing ; a streak over the eye.
The breast, sides, belly, and under tail coverts white ;
legs and feet greyish-black. Length, sixteen inches.
This is the winter plumage. In the red state, or
summer plumage, most of the feathers are streaked
and spotted with brownish-black.
The female resembles the male, but is larger.

THE GREY PHALAROPE.
(Phalaropus fulicarius.)

Mate.—The bill black ; iris dusky. Forehead and
sides of head and neck pure white; occiput and a
broad line down the back of the neck greyish-black.
The back is a fine pale purple grey ; wing coverts
blackish, the quills the same; shafts of the quills and
tips of the primary coverts white ; middle tail feathers
deep brown, margined with white ; side feathers of
tail ash grey. The lower parts of the plumage
white; legs and feet light brown; the membranes
grey, dark towards the end. Length, eight inches.

THE RED-NECKED PHALAROPE.
(Phalaropus hyperboreus.)

Ma.e.—The bill black ; iris dusky. Forehead,
cheeks, and fore-neck white; upper part of head,

MORE WADERS 93

a band below the eyes, and a narrow band along
the hind-neck blackish-grey ; upper parts greyish-
black, streaked with white. Wing coverts and
quills greyish-black; a white band shows on the
wing. All the lower parts are white; legs and
feet dark blue grey. Length, from bill to tail, seven
inches. This is the winter plumage.

THE BLACK-AND-WHITE AVOCET.
(Recurvirostra avocetta.)

Mate.—The bill black, three inches long, and
curved upwards; iris reddish-brown. Upper part
of head and hind-neck, for half its length, black;
some of the scapulars, the smaller wing coverts,
and the primary quills and coverts black. The
rest of the plumage is white ; legs and feet greyish-
blue. The feet are what the marsh-men call “ half-
webbed,” that is, semi-palmated. Length, from bill
to tail, eighteen inches.

FemaLe.—Similar to the male in colouring.

THE BLACK-WINGED STILT.
(Himantopus candidus.)

Mate.—The bill black; iris crimson. Upper
part of the head and nape greyish-black ; fore-part
of back, scapulars, and some of the secondaries, with
their coverts, black glosses with green. Quills
glossy greenish-black; tail dark grey; forehead,
cheeks, throat, neck, middle and hind parts, and

94 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

lower parts white; on the breast tinged with rose
colour; legs and feet vermilion. Length, from
bill to tail, fourteen inches.

THE GREENSHANK.

(Zotanus canescens.)

Mate.—The bill greenish-brown at base, black at
the end; iris brown. Head, neck, back, scapulars,
and wing coverts brownish-grey, the feathers on
the upper parts edged with greyish-white ; primary
quills dusky brownish-grey ; tail white, waved with
brownish-grey. Throat and breast white, with some
dusky markings on the sides; lower parts white;
legs and feet grey green. Length, from bill to tail,
fourteen inches.

This is as seen in winter, and will give a general
idea of the colouring, although we have not entered
into minute details. In summer, the fore-part of
the back and scapulars black, the feathers margined
with whitish colour; fore-neck and breast marked
with oblong black spots.

FEmMALE.—Similar in colour to the male.

THE REDSHANK.
(Zotanus calidris.)
Mate.—The bill brownish-black, the basal half
yellowish-red; iris brown. Upper part of head

and hind-part and sides of neck dull light brown-
ish-grey; fore-part of back, scapulars, and inner

MORE WADERS 95

secondaries glossy greyish-brown; wing coverts
margined with dusky spots, the interspaces grey:
the rest of the back pure white. The tail and its
upper coverts white, barred with greyish-black ;
primaries blackish-brown, the inner fine white to-
wards the end, barred and dotted with dusky colour ;
secondaries black at the base, the rest white. Throat
whitish ; sides of neck and breast pale grey, each
feather with a slender dark streak; the rest of
lower parts white. Legs and feet orange red.
Length, from bill to tail, eleven inches.

FremMaLE.—Same in colouring as the male. In
flight the white on the back and on the wings shows
up boldly.

THE GREEN SANDPIPER.
(Totanus ochropus.)

Mave.—The bill dusky, reddish below ; iris dusky.
Upper part of head and hind-neck brownish-grey ;
back, scapulars, and inner secondaries greenish-
brown, with whitish margins and dusky spots;
rump feathers white towards the end; tail coverts
white, barred at the base. A broad white band over
the eye; throat greyish-white; cheeks and fore-
neck the same, tinged with brown and streaked
with dusky colour. All the lower parts of the body
pure white ; tail feathers white, barred with blackish-
brown ; legs and feet greyish-blue, with a tinge of
green, Length, from bill to tail, ten inches.

FemaLe.—Similar in colouring to the male, but
slightly larger.

96 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

THE WOOD SANDPIPER.
(Zotanus glareola.)

Mate.—The bill dusky, tinged at the base with
green; iris dusky. Upper part of head greyish-
brown, the feathers edged with greyish-white; a
broad streak of white from the bill over the eye.
Neck all round greyish-white, streaked with brown ;
back, scapulars, and inner secondaries dark brown,
glossed with purple, the feathers edged with white
and black spots, the white spots being larger than
those of the Green Sandpiper. The quills, primary
and secondary coverts, also smaller coverts, blackish-
brown ; throat greyish-white ; breast and lower parts
white. Hind-part of rump and upper tail coverts
white ; the tail coverts marked along the shafts
with brown; tail white, barred with dusky colour ;
legs and feet greenish-grey. Length, from bill to

tail, nine inches,

THE COMMON SANDPIPER.
(Totanus hypoleucus.)

Mate.—The bill dusky above, brownish-grey
beneath ; iris brown. Upper part of head and hind-
neck brownish-grey ; a faint whitish line passes
over the eye; upper parts glossy greenish-brown,
banded and waved with dark brown; some feathers
on the edge of the wing, the tips of the primary
and secondary coverts, white; a bar of same colour
crosses the wing. Sides and fore-part of neck light

MORE WADERS 97

brownish-grey, streaked with dusky colour ; throat,

breast, sides, belly, and lower tail coverts white ;

side tail feathers white, barred with dusky colour ;

the rest darker; legs and feet greyish-green.

Length, from bill to tail, eight and a half inches.
FEMALE.—Similar to the male.

CHAPTER VIII
WOODCOCK AND SNIPE

Tue nest of the Woodcock is made in some dry,
quiet part of the wood or cover where dead leaves
cover the ground, and trailing brambles are fairly in
abundance, mixed with rough tussocks of torey grass
and dead twigs and branches. It is lined with dead
grass and leaves. The eggs, four in number, vary
in ground-colour from olive to dull brownish-buff,
and are thickly blotched and spotted with dark
brown and pale brown, with markings of purple
grey. Let me give one picture of a sitting Wood-
cock from the life. At the bottom of a moor stone,
shaded over by trailing brambles and tufts of
heather, the stone itself being covered with lichens
grey and brown, a litter of dead leaves and dry
grass has gathered, as if the wind sweeping through
the branches of the firs had brought them there to
rest. At the base of the stone dead twigs are
scattered about, some brown, where the bark has
peeled off them show light yellow; some where
the minute fungi have settled on them are grey ;

in fact there is a kind of network of dry twigs,
98

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 99

brown, grey, and dingy buff, that look as if they
had been blown on the stone and then slipped
off, half hiding the dry grass and leaves at the
bottom. One should never pass over such trifles ;
we see as we look closely some arrangement about
it. Something glitters, then we have it all, a per-
fect picture. For there sits a Woodcock, hovered
on her nest, her long bill half hidden in the breast
feathers, the tip just touching the outside edge of
the nest. Wecan make out the upper part of her
and that is all, so closely do the mottlings of her
plumage fall in with the bits of stuff round about her.

But it is her full glistening eye that we can see
distinctly ; that, we know, is watching us as we
stand, hardly venturing to breathe fully. She can
only see part of us, and that is the worst part, head
and eyes. The strain is more than we can put up
with. Nothing is so tiring as to stand perfectly
still in a strained position. But as we move, crack
goes a dead stick underfoot. Flick—flick—flick !
she is up and off, twisting through the twigs and
branches in a wonderful manner. She had just
begun to sit; we do not take the bird’s eggs, we
are only too pleased to have had the luck to see it.
If the eggs had been hatched out we should have
seen the usual shifts to draw our attention from the
chicks. She would have fussed about, drooped her
wings, and spread out her tail, holding it up like a
fan, showing the silvery-white tips of the under tail
feathers.

Woodcocks breed fairly well in our southern

100 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

counties, particularly so round about my own home,
and they nest early. I have known the chicks out
when snow was on the hills. So closely does their
down fall in with the mother’s plumage, and so
closely do they nestle to her, that if they do not
pipe you would not know that they were about
her. Hills that were bare at one time, that is,
comparatively so, are now covered with trees,
principally firs. As the water drains from the hills
to the moist land at the foot of them, they are dry
and the firs make them warm; you would not feel
a gale in a fir wood. There is also a short under-
growth of heather, whortle-bushes, rough grass,
ferns, and creeping brambles,—stone brambles,—not
thick and matted, but in open order, stuff that you
can easily walk through. In such places as these
the Woodcocks nest ; some of their old haunts are
gone I know, but they have found others suited to
them. It is perfectly useless asking any velveteen-
coated guardian of the covers whether Woodcocks
breed there; he will tell you in mournful tones
that he “‘ain’t sin one on’em about for a year or
more”; also he will give you the most minute details
about who it was that shot that last solitary bird.
At the same time there may be three or four sitting
birds in one cover, and the man knows it.

After listening to this sort of thing once, I told
a gamekeeper in the most emphatic words at com-
mand, that I knew some were nesting close to us.
With various allusions to his Satanic Majesty, and
other individuals of high degree and places of

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE Io!

uncertain locality, he asked me how I knew that.
I soon explained, and it ended in my going through
that cover with him; after which we parted with
mutual satisfaction, in fact I was invited to come
again.

These birds vary very much in size and in
plumage, males as well as females; so does the bill,
both in length and in thickness. [t is not the least
use looking at the bill of a stuffed Woodcock ; that
will give you but a faint idea of the exquisite
arrangement of encased nerves. The bird does not
see its food as a rule; his bill probes for it, and the
sensitive tip discovers what he needs. If you wish
to see and examine it, you must do so after it has
dropped to the shot, or better still, look at a tame
Woodcock, for this beautifully mottled and pencilled
creature is frequently domesticated. One man
would have quite enough to do to provide worms
to satisfy a couple of birds. The gentle creature
has a fine appetite and a good digestion; after
getting down a cupful of worms, it will look at you
in the most gentle manner with its large dark eyes,
asking for more. This is the reason why they are
not seen in a domesticated state very often; you
have to dig so hard for them at times to little pur-
pose. Some of my pets have cost me as much as
a small family of children would.

That the Woodcocks were numerous up to recent
times in one vicinity our readers may imagine, for
every little round-frocked leather-gaitered lad living
near their haunts “tealed” for them, springed in

102 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

fact. The youngsters, boys and girls, were, as their
parents called them, “reg'lar dabsters” at it. All
the moist runs on that large waste were covered
with little gates, having gaps in the centre for the
horse-hair noose. Each one knew his or her teals,
and if theirs were empty and their neighbours had
caught, they left them there for their neighbours
to take out. The folks were simple and honest,
the unwritten laws of the forest were never broken,
for good reasons. Very great prejudice exists in
certain localities regarding the Scolopacide, the
family of birds that the Woodcock stands at the
head of.

“They gits their living out o’ the bogs, sucks it
out on’em; and they ain’t a-goin’ down our giz-
zards, not if they knows it; other folks may get ’em
down if they like:” meaning that nothing would
persuade them to eat such unclean feeders. This
notion no doubt proceeds from the birds not lifting
up their heads to swallow what they probe for. At
the same time they will partake of a duck or a
couple that they have just caught up and killed as
they were dabbling and spattering in a dirty drain,
which is by no means so clean as a moor bog or
runnel. It is the same with fish. ‘Don't like the
look on ’em, an’ shan’t eat ’em,” although these may
have been brook fish that were in question; yet
they would put themselves to no small trouble to
capture eels.

But the money that the cocks brought them in
the season got the children shoes, and a few clothes

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 103

when they were most needed. I have known them
to hang covered with a white hoar frost, where
the cocks have been springed at the tite that
kind of frost was about. Now and then some
unprincipled prowler would take a bird or a couple
from some of the “ teals,” unobserved as he thought,
but he would not get away with them. Deserted
as that wild moor might appear, at that time tealers
were there from sunset to morning. Some one was
hid up in a fern hover, on the watch, not for
thieves, but to take the birds out of the springes
and to re-set them.

One of that kind who are slightly hazy as to
other people’s birds has pocketed a couple and is
marching off, as he thinks; but he is mistaken, for
a muffled figure rises from his dry fern-brake lair
and stands in front of the thief with the simple
words—‘' Hand them ’ere birds over!” There is
no dispute possible; in fact if there is the least
hesitation, a tearing, panting scuffle ensues; the
two are like a couple of dogs at work, and the better
man wins. Yet you might be on the moor for two
seasons without hearing of a case of this kind.

There is no accounting for taste ; the Woodcock
is not drawn when cooked, the trail, as the intes-
tines are called, on toast is considered the best part
of the bird. If those who eat it had seen the marks
of the bird’s probing where I have, I fancy they
would decline “trail” with thanks. But game in
any shape I do not care for, even when hung just
right: I prefer the joint.

104 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

It is an accepted idea that this bird only feeds by
night, and to a certain extent this is true; but not
altogether. If his haunt is in some retired spot,
and it generally is so, and hollows are about, damp
but not splashy, you may see him rapidly turning
and sorting the dead leaves over in the day-time.
If alarmed, the head is drawn in; he listens for a
second or two, then squats like a toad, but he is
very wide-awake for all that. If you get a chance,
it will be a snap-shot, for he sits close to a thorn-
bush. Those who have had a cock twist up ina
place such as I have mentioned know all about it
far better than I can tell them. The cry of “ Mark
cock!” causes as much excitement now as it has
ever done. Pheasants can go for a time; no one
shoots, for fear another may have a better chance
than himself. All eyes are on the bird as he clears
the trees with his long bill pointing downwards, it
may be to flight back to the place he was flushed
from. Both barrels will be loaded, never fear, when
that cry is heard. There are so many chances of
missing a cock, and good ones too. ‘ Missed him
clean with the first,” you will hear said frequently,
“but dropped him clean with the second.” Some
have, of course, wasted powder and shot to no pur-
pose. I should like to know the exact distance at
which a Woodcock is considered to be out of range.
At the distance I have seen some fired at, one
would really imagine this was all the time the bird
was in sight, and that distance was no object.

The plumage in summer is lighter than what it is

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 105

in winter, and it varies more or less, not remarkably
so unless in white or pied varieties, but quite
enough to notice. In the matter of weight he
varies remarkably at times. I have seen very fine
cocks, what we should consider home-bred, well-fed
birds, not flighters, and there was exactly the same
difference between them and those known to be
flighters from over the sea, as there is between the
wild ducks bred in this country and those that come
to us from other lands. I believe myself that those
creatures that do not have to exert themselves much
in order to get a living, because a good living is
close to them, are as a rule larger than those who
have to travel a long distance for it.

The Woodcock carries the young at times, when
in danger, and also to moist feeding-grounds when
too far away from the nest for the chicks to travel
to them. This has been questioned, but the fact is
now an established one.

It is not often that two Woodcocks are killed at
one shot, but Chantrey, the famous sculptor, once
did this. The birds that flight to us from over the
sea pitch down anywhere fora short time—only for a
few hours—quite tired out; if any one has the luck
to see them drop, some good work can be done with
straight powder. One man known to myself picked
up as many as fifteen out of a field of turnips. He
missed some, but the number I have mentioned fell
to his gun in one afternoon. They must be waited
on quickly, for directly they are a bit rested they
are scattered far and wide.

106 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

The bird visits the tide, at times particularly
often, where there are woods on the rising grounds
that tidal rivers pass through. This takes place in
hard weather. When it is, as they say, “bitter
hard,” he flights to the tide and feeds on the slub
when the tide is out. He will swallow shell-fish
then ; little creatures, very small at first, and soft.
Those of my readers that have wandered about on
the slubs—hard slub, not soft—will have seen any
amount of these that could be crushed by the finger
and thumb without much pressure. Directly a
change comes for the better, he is off again. So
partial to the holly for shelter is this bird, that a
holly-bush and a Woodcock go together. When out
shooting, the men always tap with their beating-
sticks any holly that they come near, and in many
cases to some purpose.

The Great Snipe can only be considered as a
very irregular visitor from its northern home. It
differs from our common bird when flushed, for it
rises in silence, spreads its tail like a fan, and flies
rather heavily, without any erratic twistings such as
our well-known Snipe has.

A northern sportsman first described the habits of
this bird in the nesting season. They are far more
like those of the Ruff than those of our Common
Snipe. Recent investigations have found some
Woodcock traits about them, very like tilting. The
places where it has been flushed from and shot in
this country, in many instances, have been where a
cock might have been expected. I should fancy that

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 107

insect life in immature stages formed a considerable
portion of its food, for great quantities of it are near
the surface, easily probed for in spongy, moist
ground, not swampy. My first introduction, when
a child, to the Snipe family was through a Great
Snipe, for my father shot one many years ago. It
was supposed to be a very large specimen of the
common bird, very finely marked. My father was
very interested in the matter, for although a
thorough sportsman, so far as fowling went, he had
never shot one so large before. As he could draw
and paint, he made a very careful study of the bird
in crayons—French chalks they were called at that
time—and hung it up in one of the workshops. And
there it hung unframed, just as he nailed it up, for
more than forty years. If the place has not been
pulled down, for all I know that Great Snipe,
hanging up by a string tied to one leg, may be
there now. No doubt more of these birds have
been shot than have ever been recorded. With the
general run of shooters a Snipe was a Snipe, and the
heavier the bird the more he fetched when sold.
As my father only shot for sport pure and simple,
and like his eldest son had a slight taste for natural
life, that crayon portrait was the result. If he had
lived long enough to read some of his son’s writings
he would have been a firm believer in hereditary
transmissions.

The nest of the Common Snipe is a slight hollow
lined with sedge, bits of heather or grass, as the
case may be. The eggs, four in number generally,

108 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

sometimes three, are greyish-yellow in ground-
colour, with a tinge of blue; spotted and patched
with dark brown and brownish-grey ; but they vary
in size and colour. Sometimes the Snipe, when
sitting, will allow a chance foot to come very close,
almost to touch the edge of the nest, before she
springs.

The young are pretty little fellows, covered at
first with down of a reddish-brown colour spotted
with darker brown, and white on the head and
upper parts. They leave the nest after being
hatched out, and follow their mother in search of
food. If danger threatens they squat, and the
mother does the usual broken wing and leg busi-
ness. Some years ago, before Aldershot was what
it is now, numbers of Snipe bred close to it; for
at that time you could find enough bog there to
satisfy them. Some is left there now; it has not
been quite improved away. It was not the least
trouble to watch their most interesting aerial
manceuvres, for they were humming and bleating
in all directions over the bogs—bogs that you
dare not venture on even with a long broad plank:
the experiment was tried by one that would not be
deterred by trifles, but the plank went under the
floating bog when waiked on. So the Snipe had
their humming all to themselves at that place.

At that time they were in numbers there, but we
could find quite enough to answer our purpose
nearer home. One spot is left. where they can be
found even now. It is a dangerous part for a

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 109

stranger to hunt over; he would stand a good
chance of being bog-smothered. I was there
recently, probing round the edge of it, but I could
not get on it, not even on the tussock humps and
moss-cushions, for they were floating, and directly
you placed your foot on one it would topple over.
The sun is sinking; not low down yet, but low
enough to make that long strip of quaking bog,
covered only with mosses, rushes, and cotton grass,
look like a glorious carpet, a mile in length, and
fifty yards in width at its narrowest part. The
flaming marsh-marigolds do not grow here, for this
is only bog. The wooded hills on either side are in
shadow, but the light falls on that quake and rests
there. Up from the mosses springs a Snipe with
“t’sick, t’sick, t’sick!” into the calm, golden-tinted
sky of a soft May evening. Up he shoots, but he
has altered his tune a bit, ‘‘ zoo-ee, zoo-ee, zoo-ee-ee !”
then he stops for a second in his upward flight.
Down again he shoots, humming like a top. Then
up he shoots again with his “ t’sick, t’sick!” and his
“zo0-ee, zoo-ee!” to shoot down again humming as
before, zigzagging all over the place, at least all
over that portion of the bog where his mate is sit-
ting on her clutch of eggs. Much controversy as to
how the sound is produced—I mean the hum—have
we seen in papers devoted to natural history, by
writers who certainly ought to have known better.
But if you tell a certain class of very learned people
the simple truth, they get cantankerous, and sling
ink in all directions to prove that they know nothing

110 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

about it. In ten minutes I could make a simple
little affair that would make just such a noise as the
Snipe does when he shoots down, so that if you did
not know what it was you would fancy a Snipe was
humming if you had heard one hum; and it would
hum from the same cause that the bird hums. Little
chubby-faced “ whapstraws,” as I have heard country
children in all-round frock and gaiters called, could
enlighten some people.

The Snipe is a very suspicious bird, one that can
conceal itself in the most clever manner. The
plumage enables it to do this with little trouble. If
disturbed when feeding, it will run to some withered
tuft and squat, drawing in its neck, and with its bill
inclined to the ground; you might walk over it, if
the bird would allow you, without seeing it. When
Snipe are feeding in sedge patches that have been
cut down, they assimilate with the various tones of
colouring that the decayed sedge stumps show,
ranging from brown of all shades, and from deep .
buffs to cream colour where they are bleached, so
that it requires a lot of searching at a very short
range to pick them out. I have sprung them from
green meadows almost at my feet, yet never saw
them squatting, although I was looking for them.
Any depression where a cow or a horse has left its
mark on the meadow will be enough to hide the
Snipe.

No matter how many birds may be about, you
will always flush them singly, not far apart, at times
certainly only a yard or two. The nature of their

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE It

food compels them to feed apart, for they do not
get a worm or insect every time they probe, or, I
should say, bore.

The Jack Snipe is a solitary species, and the
smallest of his family in the country; it has never
been found breeding here, in fact up to the present
little is known about its breeding habits. The
dapper little fellow will make himself contented in
a very small space, and keeps himself in good order
when his larger relatives are in poor case. Any
tuft or clod that will hide a Lark will shelter him
from observation ; and when a place suits him he is
hard to move. You may put him up a dozen times
from a field, but back he comes and pitches again.
When in first-rate order—and it is very seldom that
he is not so—he will weigh two ounces. He is a
first-rate bird for a poor shot. One of my friends
shot at one for a week and never got him, and some
of his acquaintances remarked satirically that ‘he
was trying to sow his little medder with sparrer-shot.”

In hard weather, when the snow is deep and
frozen on the surface, the Snipe suffers terribly,
and thousands of these birds die of starvation.
In some places so wretchedly poor are the dead
birds, mere skeletons in fact covered with feathers,
that the Dun Crows will not notice them, nor the
Gulls on the coast-lines. If, when things are
desperate, a sudden change comes,—and it does
come at times very suddenly,—those that have
survived hard times begin to feed at once, for worms
and other things come near the surface directly.

112 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

The Snipe are voracious feeders in their way, so
they soon get in first-rate order again. They visit
the tide in numbers. Some nights we have gone
down when it was dark, but clear—no moon—and
have seen them shoot over the creek, ‘‘ scape, skep-
skep-scaping ” their loudest when they caught sight
of us waiting for them on the saltings. Some
stopped behind for us to look at; for the spaniel
was with us to find them when they dropped. But
more went on not touched. It isa little difficult to
judge distances rightly at night.

The birds vary in size and colouring. One
before me has the dark and light markings very
rich and bright; some again when picked up have
a velvety bloom on the plumage. It is a very
game-looking bird, and a great favourite with
shooters. Some will account for nine birds out
of a dozen put up; others, very good shots at
other fowl, will miss shot after shot; for they
either shoot a little too soon or a little over. One
I once knew that had missed several very fine
chances was told with grim marsh-land humour to
“get well in front of the lot and shoot with his eyes
shut.” Not long after this he was missed, and on
looking round a solitary figure was seen making his
way back to the hamlet, with a look of dejection ©
in his very coat-tails. Vast numbers of Snipe are
netted to supply the markets; they fetch a better
price, and they look more enticing to the purchaser.
They are only a couple of bites when cooked, and
it is certainly preferable not to have one bite half

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 113

lead. They are erratic in their goings and comings
in certain places, for reasons that they only know.

A place that has been deserted for years as
one of their haunts, has been returned to this year
(1894) in considerable numbers. When alter-
ations are going on, in buildings particularly, they
flight it elsewhere ; then when all is properly settled
down they visit that haunt again—at least they have
done so in this instance.

THE WOODCOCK.
(Scolopax rusticola.)

Mate.—The bill is flesh colour, with a tinge of
bluish-grey, dusky at the end; iris dark brown.
The upper part of the plumage is coloured in a very
intricate manner; forehead grey; upper and hind-
part of head blackish-brown, with three narrow bars
of pale reddish-brown. Back marked with blackish-
brown grey, chestnut red, and brownish-yellow ;
sides and fore-part of neck light yellowish-brown,
changing on the belly to pale yellowish-grey, all
with narrow bars of dusky brown. On the lower
part of the side of the neck is a patch of blackish-
brown ; wing coverts chestnut red, barred with grey
and dusky colour; rump and upper tail coverts of a
lighter red, barred with dusky colour. Primary quills
and coverts brownish-black, barred on the outer web
with pale red spots. Tail feathers brownish-black,
barred on their margins with red, leaving a large
round grey spot at the end; legs and feet flesh

I

114 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

colour. Length, from bill to end of tail, fourteen
inches.
FemaLe.—Larger, but similar in colour.

THE GREAT SNIPE.
(Gallinago major.)

Mate.—The bill is yellowish-brown at the base,
dusky towards the end; the iris brown. Two
lengthened blackish-brown bands are on the head,
slightly marked with light red, separated by a narrow
middle line of reddish-white ; and on each side isa
yellowish-white band. The chin is pale yellowish-
brown, neck pale brown, each feather darker in the
centre. Upper parts variegated with black and
light red, with four lengthened yellowish-black
feathers tipped with pale brown; larger coverts
black, tipped with white. The secondaries are
largely tipped with white, quills greyish-black, the
shafts white ; tail brownish-black, banded with chest-
nut red and black ; the outer feathers on each side
white. Middle of breast and belly brownish-white
barred with brown; sides waved with dusky and
pale brown; legs and feet pale bluish- green
Length, from bill to end of tail, twelve inches.

The female is similar to the male.

THE COMMON SNIPE.
(Gallinago celestis.)

Matz.—The bill greyish-blue at the base, dusky
at the end, a part of the ridge flesh-coloured ; iris

WOODCOCK AND SNIPE 15

brown. From the bill two broad, lengthened bands
of black, slightly marked with pale red, divided by
a narrow band of reddish-white. From the bill over
each eye a band of reddish-white ; the throat reddish-
white; neck all round variegated with dusky and
reddish-white. The long feathers of the back and
scapulars are black, marked with light red, margined
externally with white, forming four lengthened bands
on the back. On the hind-part of the back and rump
the feathers are barred with dusky and light red; also
the upper tail coverts. The tail is brownish-black
towards the end, barred or spotted with reddish-white,
with a narrow curved band of black; the tip light
red. The smaller wing coverts are purplish-black,
tipped with reddish-grey ; quills greyish-black; the
primaries slightly, and the secondaries largely, tipped
with white. Middle of breast and belly white ; the
sides waved and barred ; legs and feet pale greenish-
blue. Length, from bill to end of tail, eleven inches.
The female is similar to the male.

THE JACK SNIPE.
(Gallinago gallinula.)

Mar.—The bill is greyish-blue at base, dusky
towards the end, part of the ridge flesh-coloured ;
iris dark brown. From the bill to nape is a brownish-
black band, narrow at first, but gradually getting
wider, the feathers margined with brownish-red.
On each side, from the bill to the nape, is a broad
band of reddish-white, partly divided by a dusky

116 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

line. Throat reddish-white ; neck variegated with
dusky colour and reddish-white. The long feathers
of the back and scapulars are deep glossy purplish-
black, mottled with light red, broadly bordered ex-
ternally with pale yellowish-red, internally with rich
glossy green. There are four lengthened pale red
bands on the back; from middle of back towards the
hind-part of it purplish-black. The feathers nar-
rowly tipped with greyish-white ; upper tail coverts
and rump dusky, mottled with light red and mar-
gined with deep buff. The tail feathers are dusky,
waved with dull red and margined with light ; the
wings dusky, coverts and quills tipped with greyish-
white ; the breast and belly white. Upper part of
sides streaked with red and dusky; legs and feet
pale greenish-blue. Length, from bill to end of tail,
eight and a half inches.

CHAPTER, IX
THE COMMON HERON

Tue nest of the Common Heron is a large flat
structure composed of sticks, lined with grass,
wool, or other materials. It is built as a rule on
high trees; in fact Herons build like Rooks, whole
colonies of them, only the nests are on a much
larger scale. The eggs, from three to five in num-
ber, are bright bluish-green ; these the Jackdaws steal
whenever the chance offers. The Heron builds at
times on the ground, when no trees are near.

Very few birds have had such grace of sanctuary
extended to them as the fine bird under notice.
Royal laws were framed for his especial protection,
or we might say for the personal pleasure of those
for whom he provided noble sport, that of hawking.
Before fowling-pieces were known, trained falcons
were used, not only for sport, but in order to supply
game for the table. The Heron in those days was
a game bird of the highest rank, and a cast of white
Gyr-Falcons was considered a noble present for any
reigning monarch. Those who have only seen this

long -legged, long- billed fisher sedately flapping
117 ’

118 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

along either to or from his fishing quarters, would
be astonished if they saw the bird’s full powers of
flight brought into play. I have seen him ring up
until he looked no larger than a Rook.

In olden times Gyr-Falcons were used for flying at
the larger fowl. For this reason: they were then, as
they are at the present time, the most powerful and
determined birds of the whole family ; deadly footers,
which means that when they strike they either kill
their quarry or terribly disable it. As provender for
the table as well as sport was a consideration, the Gyrs
answered the purpose they were used for admirably.

But the Heron requires a lot of killing ; and not
only that, he is a brave bird, fighting to the last,
all the time there is life in him; 1 am well acquainted
with that forcible fact. I will give you one sketch
of Heron-hawking, not of the past but of recent
times, for the grand sport has been carried on within
a few miles of us. Falconry has never really died
out in this country, it has always been practised
by a few gentlemen at various times, in places
suitable for it. We need not state that open country
is imperatively necessary for the sport.

Here he comes, with measured beats of his broad
wings, which send him through the air at far greater
speed than they appear to do. He is going home
with his crop full of fish. All at once his keen eyes
see a group of men below him, some on horseback
and some on foot. He swerves in his flight, but it
is too late for him now. <A cast of falcons are
hooded off with a whoop !—grand Peregrines, “ Juno”

Heron anv Fatcons.

THE COMMON HERON 119

and “Empress.” He sees them, out he throws his
fish, and at once begins to ring up; and the hawks
do the same, sweeping round in great circles to get
above him. To those who had never seen a flight
before they would appear at times to be flying
from their quarry. One more ring round and they
are above him now. One shuts her wings and
drives at him like a bolt from a cross-bow, but the
Heron makes a shift and she misses him, shooting
hundreds of feet below her quarry. Recovering
herself she rings up again just as her companion
stoops, hitting the Heron hard, and causing a small
cloud of feathers to stream away from him. Now
the one that missed her stroke is above him again ;
down she comes and binds to him, and her mate
does the same. This is the time to run and ride,
for the birds are slowly coming to the ground,
buoyed up by their grand wings. Down they come.
Directly the Heron touches the ground, the hawks
let go of him to bind to him again instantly, for
they are old birds that have gained experience.
But the Heron is in one of the falconer’s hands, his
fish-spear of a bill secured from mischief, and the
hawks made into, taken up, and hooded. It has
been a rare good flight. The falconer places the
Heron between his knees, so that it is not able to
strike him, pulls out the two long crest feathers as
trophies, fixes a mark on one of the bird’s legs so
that it may be known if captured again, and lets
him go, slightly bewildered, but not much the worse
for it all.

120 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

It is when the Heron is on the ground that he
uses his bill if he has the chance to do it; and this
with fatal effect at times. The accounts that have
been given of his turning his bill up when in the
air, bayonet fashion, for the Falcon to impale on, are
ridiculous fables.

They do not kill Herons now when hawking, for
this reason—heronries are scarce, few and far
between: if they killed them when captured, they’
would very soon have none to fly at. As it is, they
are only got at under favourable circumstances, good
trained falcons being rather costly creatures; if one
is killed by a stroke from a Heron there is a direct
monetary loss, quite putting on one side the regret
of losing a dashing and very intelligent companion.

A bird of versatile ability is our Heron, quite at
home in the trees, where he glides over the limbs
and branches like a grey shadow; a very favourite
perch of his as a look-out station is the top of some
high fir, where he perches as securely as a Starling.
I have seen him take the water like a duck. It
does not matter to him where he is ; in the trees, in
the water, or stalking along the edge of it, out in
the middle of a field—not the side of it—or by the
tide, he is equally at home.

He has been credited with killing unlimited
quantities of fish. This is not just: small deer that
can well be spared form part of his food. Other
creatures live in or by the water besides fish, such as
water-voles, water-shrews, frogs, and small aquatic
birds, and these form part of his food supply. In

THE COMMON HERON 121

some places known to myself protection has been
given him, even where -trout-streams run through
the meadows, close to the woods that he frequents.
If people think it is a fish he gets every time he
makes a stroke, they will be deceived. I have
known trout-streams utterly ruined as _ fishing
streams, but not by the Herons. It was caused by
the latest scientific improvements in so-called fish
culture. We find him now when we look for him,
in the same places that ancient members of his
family frequented, when Falcons alone were used for
his capture. These are the meres and lakes, reed-
fringed, and the wooded hills that rise above them ;
also the ruins of religious houses that the falconers
of past days frequently visited from the manors
below, with Herons, Bitterns, and Ducks for the
good sisters’ tables when Lent was over. Fish
they had in abundance from the meres, lakes,
and streams round about them, and from the
rivers close by. ‘There is abundance there now,
although the Herons do throw the shadow of their
broad wings on the waters as they fly over.

Swans, ducks, and eels will do more mischief in
spawning time by gorging on the spawn up to their
very gullets than all the Herons in England would
do in fair fishing. The bird can only wade so far ;
small fish frequent shallow water, and bushels of
some sorts could come out of some waters and the
streams would be all the better for it. Any amount
of fish is poached at times, but the Herons are not
the poachers.

122 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

The handsome Purple Heron (Ardea purpurea)
and the Night Heron (WMycticorax griseus) have
been shot in this country, but they can only be
considered as rare visitors, that do not come within
the scope of a work of this kind, which is written to
give the general public an idea of the birds described
in their haunts and general surroundings.

THE COMMON HERON.

(Ardea cinerea.)

Mae.—The bill is yellow ; the ridge of the upper
mandible brown towards the end; iris yellow ; fore
and upper parts of the head greyish-white. From
the eyes to the occiput the feathers are glossy blue
black ; general tone of neck whitish, tinged with
reddish-purple, passing into purplish-grey below.
A line of oblong black spots on a white ground
runs down the fore-part of the neck; the upper
parts are bluish-grey ; the pointed scapular feathers
bluish-white ; quills a deep blue-black, tinged with
ash grey, the secondaries shading into that colour ;
the edges of wings white. From the shoulders a
broad band of bluish-black feathers, on fore-part of
breast white, spotted with black; sides ash grey;
tail ash-grey, darker towards the end. The bare
space between the bill and the eye is green; legs
and feet are olive-green, touched with yellow.
Length, from bill to tail, thirty-nine inches.

The female is similar to the male, but her crest is
shorter.

CHAPTER &
THE COMMON AND THE LITTLE BITTERN

Tue nest of the Common Bittern is formed of
sedges, twigs, and other coarse aquatic tangle, placed
on some tussock, or a lot of matted vegetation
caused by the reed-flags, docks, and other plants
decaying and dropping. It contains as a rule from
four to five eggs, of a light olive colour. As this
bird only frequents the most lonely and desolate
places, the nest, even where they bred in some of
the eastern counties, and in one place very close to
London, was very seldom met with by those who
searched for it. The marsh and fen-dwellers found
them, and the birds as well; Bitterns at half-a-guinea
were worth looking for. They fetched this for the
table at one time: a friend of mine gave a guinea
for one in full breeding plumage, a fine male bird.
He hesitated over the price for a moment, but was
told he could take it or leave it, as they could easily
sell it at that price. As he really wanted one he
paid that for it, though quite recently a man I know
bought a fine fellow for five shillings. The last
authentic eggs, so far as I can learn, were taken

at Upton Car, near Acle in Norfolk.
123

124 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

The rage for reclaiming waste lands, and steam-
power being applied for draining, havé given the
Bittern notice to quit; he has taken the hint and
gone. These birds would breed here again if folks
would let them, but the high prices paid for them
living or dead prevents it. The birds that do visit
us generally arrive with easterly winds from the
coast of Holland.

Bumble, Miredrum, Bitter-bum, Bog-bumper, and
Butter-bump—the bogle of Tennyson's northern
farmer—by all these names and a few more is the
Bittern called, according to localities.

In our native marshes they called them “yaller
French Herns”; some who affected natural history
a little called them Bittern Herns. They noticed
most of them about, the old marsh-folks have told
me, “times and often when we fit (fought) with
old Boney an’ his frog-eatin’ Frenchers!” What
this had to do with the bird’s appearing in unusual
numbers I have never found out. Our folks cer-
tainly “fit,” for plenty of good old muskets were to
be found on the flats; I used one of them when I
was there; ball or shot they would carry equally
well, and they bore any amount of rough wear and
tear. I have used fine fowling-pieces in my time,
but it was a musket that I knocked about with when
I splashed over the flats with that prince of dyke-
leapers, my friend Baulk. He knew more about
“valler Herns’”—“ Jipes” as he called them—than
any man on our marshes, the “ lookers” included.
The marsh-men of the old type that I spring from are

THE COMMON AND THE LITTLE BITTERN 125

very conservative people, not much given to talking ;
but very devils for action, deliberate as they appeared
to be. If they had got anything to say, out it came,
offend or please, no matter who was in front of
them. If angered, no sooner the word than the
blow, and very often the blow came first. They
kept their own company.

When I was a lad only those who lived there
knew what the marshes contained in the way of fur
and feather, or what passed over them at times
between the night and morning; and at times in
broad daylight, where the spot was very lonely.
Some of our marsh-lands seemed right out of the
world, or on the outside edge of it.

The marsh-folk did not come into the towns
unless they had urgent business there, either to
purchase some necessary article, or to sell some fowl,
fish, or mushrooms. They came in and went out
in the most quiet fashion, and very rarely did they
leave without purchasing a considerable amount of
laudanum. Spirits they never bought in the towns ;
for reasons kept to themselves that was not
necessary.

If I see a Bittern now, after all the years since I
left their haunts, it sets me thinking; and once
more I seem to be standing on the most treacherous
parts of the flats, covered with splashes and pools,
with a film on the surface of them, coloured with all
the hues of the rainbow. The firm part where we
stand is rank to smell and bad to stand on for any
time. Reed-beds are all over the place; low reeds,

126 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

for the water and ooze combined will not bring them
to their full height here. In the heat of the day the
place steams ; when the sun gets low, heavy curtains
of grey thick mist will float about, just the right
height to let you breathe all the noxious vapours of
that ague and fever-stricken district. No wonder
that suffering as they did they should try to get as
much as they could from the marshes ; they required
it alland more. Something was always required in
some way or other. Boats are not to be had for
nothing, and they had to have one; a marsh-man
without a boat is nowhere, for he wants to use it
continually to get his fish and to get at his fowl
when the night falls. The haunts of the Bittern are
full of strange sounds, for other birds of a retiring
nature frequent the spots that he prefers. Much
has been written about the boom of the Bittern by
those who never heard it, and never will. The bird
has a weird cry of its own, but it is not a boom.
The Snipe drums, or rather we might say hums, in
the evening, and that sound has, I know, in more
than one instance, been attributed to the Bittern by
those who ought to have known better.

Some parts are not flooded at high tide by the
salts, others are. Where the foul water has drained
for generations of marsh-folks from the lands above
to the bog below, reeking and bubbling, it causes the
tangle to flourish with almost tropical luxuriance.
Think of all this marsh vegetation growing and
decaying-—for who shall say how long?

Here the Bittern hides in the day-time, stirring.

THE COMMON AND THE LITTLE BITTERN 127

himself when the Marsh Owls are on the hunt, when
thousands on thousands of frogs make the whole
place appear to tremble with their croakings. Then
you hear: squeaks, whistles, quacks, grunts, and
strange spatterings, with ‘“ weet - weet weets!”
Herons call hoarsely as they rise; then all is very
quiet for a time; bats are all over the place, adding
their sharp grating squeaks to the general tune-up.
Some Redshanks cross over, going to the slub noisy
as usual: this appears to start the noise again, and
with a few more strange additions. It was here
that the friend I have mentioned would come to
thresh one out, as he termed it, with his long ash
leaping-pole. Hard as I have begged of him to let
me help beat that large strip of tangle, he would
never allow me to enter there; he said it was too
risky for me; so it must have been bad indeed.
I have. thought, and still think, that the tangle of
that foul marsh might have concealed other matters
besides a pair of Bitterns ; but I knew better than to.
question him on that point. If he told me to stand
still in one place, I did it.

The Bittern is a skulker; he will not move if he
can help it. Those who got the birds were half afraid
to handle them at times; not for fear of the bill or
claws with which the bird fights so desperately, but
the strange positions the creatures placed themselves
in at times made them look uncanny. They would
squat, and spread their wings on each side of them,
with the neck, head, and bill held bolt upright,
looking like a lump of dead flags with a broken

128 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

stem sticking up; then when almost trodden on, up
they would get and flap heavily away; and then
they got it, as Baulk said.

One that was wounded drew itself up by some
dead flags, and looked so like them that the shooter
touched it before he knew what it was. Crammed
as all marsh-men are with the lore and traditions of
generations, it is not to be wondered at that at times
they should be very much influenced by their sur-
roundings. Intheir way they were influenced quite
as much by what they saw and pondered on as are
the Scottish Highlanders, and that is saying a great
deal; it is, however, perfectly true. If I were to
stand on the flats and hear what I have heard there
at night, my blood would tingle again as much now
as it did then; there is something electrical to a
born son of the marshes in that cry and clang of
fowl at night.

On the Essex side of the water it was, as they
said, all fowl; one thing is certain, enormous
quantities were captured there; and more Bitterns
were found there; for, bad as some of our bogs
were, they were worse on that side of the water.
Our people knew nothing about the fowlers on the
other side; they were “‘furriners” to us, although
only a short distance over the water.

In spite of all inborn ideas, and their own peculiar
temperament, they never funked at anything, and
they never moved without their guns day or night ;
these were always loaded, because they did not
know what they might fall in with above or below.

THE COMMON AND THE LITTLE BITTERN 129

I once heard Baulk say that his gun “ would knock
a hole through the devil.”

In its nesting habits the Little Bittern resembles
its larger relative the Common Bittern. There
is not the least reason to doubt that in past
times this bird, like many more now rare waders,
bred in this country; low wooded swamp tangles
are its favourite haunts, and vast fens once existed,
which were in certain parts such watery wilder-
nesses that only the fen-dwellers could penetrate
them. I have had the fowl-records from some
of them, given by old people that once lived there
when I was a young fellow; and all that they told’
me has proved to have been correct in the most
minute details.

Bitterns are good climbers, the one under notice
particularly so; the bird runs up and about the
rushes and reeds with as much agility as the Bearded
Tits that live and nest in the same moist tangles.
The long, lissom toes of the Herons and Bitterns
cling and hold to any object like twisted stone osier
bands. All waders can use their supple organs of
locomotion in a far more varied manner than they
have yet been given credit for generally. Practical
field naturalists have long known this. Some years
back a Snipe was seen perched on the top of a fir
tree: this when spoken about was considered a fine
bit of Munchausen ornithology ; but he does perch
at times, especially in the breeding season, like the
Sandpiper: I should like to know what there is to

prevent it. I had once in my possession a good:
K

130 WILD-FOWL AND SEA FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

drawing ofa Little Bittern climbing up the trunk of
a tree ; thiscame with a few more things I possessed
at that time direct from the Continent.

Where birds were concerned, I did not mind
asking as many questions as those I thought
knew about them would answer. My father was
interested in bird life, but he did not encourage me
in the matter, for reasons he kept to himself. He
thought, no doubt, that the time would come when
I should have to fight my way through the world
single-handed, as indeed I have been forced to do.
It was well that softness did not enter into one’s
early training.

THE COMMON BITTERN.

(Botaurus stellaris.)

Mate.—The bill greenish-yellow ; ridge of upper
mandible brown; bare spaces on the head greenish-
yellow; upper part of head and occiput purplish-
black. General colour of plumage light reddish-
yellow, variegated with brown and black, with barred
and waved markings on the sides, hind-neck, upper
coverts, and part of back behind the scapulars. The
quills are blackish-brown, with a tinge of greyish-
blue, barred with yellowish-red. The tail is lighter,
and narrowly barred ; on the fore-neck the markings
are larger, more brown in tone, and of a lengthened
character. The fore-part and middle of breast are
streaked with brownish-black; the iris is light
yellow ; legs and feet greenish-brown; the back

THE COMMON AND THE LITTLE BITTERN 131

part of the legs yellowish- green. Length, from bill
to tail, thirty inches.

THE LITTLE BITTERN.

(Ardetta minuta.)

Mate.—The bill yellow ; the ridge and point of
upper mandible dusky. Upper part of head, back
scapulars, and tail glossy greenish-black; small
coverts buffish, secondary coverts greyish-white,
primary coverts black; quills black, glossed with
green. The sides of the head and neck yellowish-
brown ; the rest light buff feathers, on front part of
breast brownish-black edged with buff; iris bright
yellow ; legs and feet dull greenish-yellow. Length,
from bill to tail, fourteen inches.

The female is similar to the male, but not so
richly coloured.

CHAPTER XI
THE WHITE SPOONBILL

TuatT very interesting bird, the White Spoonbill,
once nested in this country, establishing itself in
the trees in the same manner that the Herons do
at the present day. Sussex was one of the counties
it nested in, and it now visits us occasionally. Al-
though a rare visitor, it has been shot on the
marshes which I know so well. When Spoonbills
come, the Gulls persecute them terribly, driving the
poor strangers all over the mud-flats. The late
E. T. Booth shot a female Spoonbill on Breydon
mud-flats, near Yarmouth, in May 1871, and a male
of the same species on the same flats in May 1873.
Both these birds are in his matchless collection.
In June 1873 he shot a very rare visitor, nothing
less than a fine White Stork, on Rush Hills, near
Potter Heigham, in Norfolk, where the White
Spoonbill also nested in past years. In some
records of 1668, these Spoonbills are mentioned as

Shovelardes ”—white birds with spoon-shaped bills
and capped (crested) crowns which built in trees.
Now this description is definite enough to prove
that the “Shovelarde” must be the Spoonbill, as

the Shoveller Duck does not answer to it.
132

THE WHITE SPOONBILL 133

It seems very strange that birds should mob rare
visitors in the way they do. Jealousy in the matter
of their food can hardly be the cause for such perse-
cution, as there is enough on Breydon flats, when
the tide is out, to feed flocks of Spoonbills in
addition to the birds which now feed there. I do
not think it would be difficult to establish a colony
of Spoonbills. And talking of this jealousy, I re-
member a Gannet which had somehow got inland
pitching down on a large mill-pond near me, and
no sooner was -he settled than the swans, ducks,
coots, and moorhens made a regular rush for him.
But they did not have things all their own way, for
the Gannet fought well, and made some of their
feathers fly before they succeeded in driving
him off.

THE WHITE SPOONBILL.

(Pilatalea leucorodia.)

Mave.—The bill black, variegated with yellow or
grey ; a considerable portion of the expanded part of
the upper mandible yellow ; iris red. The throat,
bare, yellow ; crest feathers tinged with yellow, with
the exception of a buff-coloured patch on the lower
part of the neck and fore-part of the breast. The
rest of the plumage pure white, tinged at times with
pink ; legs and feet dusky. Length, from bill to tail,
thirty-two inches.

FEeMALE.—Similar to male, but the crest is smaller,
and there is less buff on the breast.

CHAPTER XII
THE RAIL FAMILY

WELL concealed in the very depth of some tuft
of aquatic vegetation, with a run to it, in and out,
and so hidden by the tangle as to be most difficult
for ordinary searchers to find, is the nest of the
Water-rail. The eggs, which vary from six to
eight in number, are of a cream ground, spotted
thickly at the upper end with rusty red and faint
grey spots, and at the smaller end finely and
thinly spotted with the same colours. The yolk
is a bright blood-red.

The form of this prince of skulkers—Skiddy-cock,
Runner, Billcock, Skit Runner, Brook Runner,
Velvet Runner (for he owns no fewer than all these
local titles)—is most admirably suited for the life he
leads, that of threading his way through tangled and
matted swamp growth. In fact the bird might be
called a living, feathered wedge, as where his bill
and head will go, his body follows. When he is
put up, or, as one might say, out of his haunts, the
bird’s flight is slow and awkward, with the legs

dangling. I have seen him go at a great pace
134

THE RAIL FAMILY 138

when necessity compelled him to do so; but reed-
beds, sedges, and swamps are his abiding-places,
and if his legs and feet can save him, the Water-
rail will not use his wings unless forced to do so.

He is far more numerous in certain localities than
most people imagine, and he is heard more often
than he is seen. Very few would give him credit
for the noises he sometimes makes, unless they had
proved for themselves beyond any shadow of doubt
that such sounds actually proceeded from him. He
has claimed my attention considerably when near
his haunts, as just before pairing-time he will, for
some reason, show himself on the edge of the
swamps quite openly, considering his confirmed
habit of hiding himself at other times. All the
rest of the year, if I have wished to see him, |
have been forced to literally get into the swamps
and wade very, very cautiously in evil-smelling
water coming above the knees. As you move in
these swamps you stir the bottom up; and even the
mud and the evil smell are not the worst part of it,
for the horrible midges that infest the place are
maddening in the tortures they inflict. The edges
also of what are locally called ‘ sword-blades” will
cut like a knife if you incautiously catch hold of
them. These ‘‘sword-blades” are long, green
sedges, exactly the shape of a small sword-blade,
and about the same length.

But, under some circumstances, the haunts of
the Water-rail appear very beautiful. The sun is
going down behind great masses of clouds edged

136 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

with lurid light. A thunder-storm has passed over
without breaking, although passing near enough to
leave behind it. huge cloud-banks whose edges are
lit by the setting sun. The surface of the mere is,
as is usually the case when rain is near, a perfect
mirror. The wooded hill, and the old farm in the
hollow at the bottom, with the thin, blue wood-
smoke curling through the trees above, and the
long reed and flag-belts backed by the grey-leaved,
stunted willows and alders, and the great docks and
the rush-sheaves—all these are reflected in the water
below perfectly. Such a picture as this may some-
times be seen before a storm, but more frequently
after one has passed over, leaving all things in a
state of perfect rest and quietness. On the surface
of the mere float large patches of green and yellow
weeds, and rush-stems spring up here and there,
and the broad leaves of the water-lilies can also be
seen just beyond the floating reed-patches. These
almost hide a large alder-stem which has gone
down in the water, for the simple reason that the
bog mould gradually sank away from all its roots.
One or two of its branches show just above the
water, covered with grey moss, and that is all. The
light comes from behind, so that my glasses will
tell me what birds show on the open parts of the
water just outside the reed-belt. A few ducks are
spattering about; they are nesting somewhere on
the tussocks that rise high and dry above the
swamps, but they do not interest me much, I have
seen them about before.

THE RAIL FAMILY 137

Coots clank, and a Moorhen rises and goes
spattering over the water, leaving a sparkling wake.
A pair of Fern Owls (Eve-jars) flit from the moors
above and hunt for some time to and fro like the
Swallows; and the Bats flick at times the water
with their leathern wings. But nothing more can I
see here. If I had my rod I should try one or
two of those holes beyond the reeds for perch.
Large fish feed when all things are quiet ; but as I
have not got my rod with me, and happen moreover
to be just now on the look-out for a Rail, I pass
on to try another place before the light fails. There
is no time to waste, for I have nine miles to tramp
home after the sun has gone down, so I make for
the mouth of the feeding stream which fills the
mere. That part remains, or at least it still did
the last time I was there, quite in its primitive
state,—just as it must have been when the vesper-
bell rang out from the hills above over the waters
of the mere,—a swamp floored with the decayed
vegetation of centuries, the “only narrow belt of
such now left near the mere. And even this much
is not likely to remain for long, for, unless I am
very much mistaken, this swamp will soon be
drained and improved away like the rest. But
now it is a tangle of all the vegetation a southern
county affords, in the rankest luxuriance; and I
believe that if it were possible to get among it,
rare butterflies could be found which are supposed
to be almost extinct. I once put a Swallow-tailed
Butterfly up from the edge of the swamp, on firm

138 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

ground, but failed to get it as it went into the
tangle.

For about fifty yards there is a sullen narrow run
of water which empties direct into the mere. Here
there is not a sound, not even a rustle of the reeds,
or a nod of a simple reed-tassel; not even the
chiding of a Reed Wren, or the babbling chatter
of a Sedge Warbler. But I do not give up hope
of finding what I have come to look for; if a Rail
is about at all I shall see him here. A water-vole
runs out from the swamp along the edge of the
water—at least by the movement I imagine it at
first to be a vole; but I am deceived, for it enters
the water, and then I discover through my glasses
that it is a Water-rail which is swimming over that
narrow bit. Slush! and the bird has gone out of
sight. No dive that, for the water is too much
disturbed—a pike has had him. These greedy
creatures come up from the mere into the feeding
stream that runs through places not yet explored,
because it is impossible to get into them, to vary
their fish diet with a little bit of fowl. Asa rule,
in most cases the accounts of fish are a little
legendary, but not so in this instance; if I were
asked I should say that their weight in this water
had been under-rated. I have seen pike here up
to twenty-two pounds in weight, while as to the
trout that so much fuss has been made about, all
to no purpose, some of them run in that same water
from three to four pounds. If these are not heavy
enough for common brook fish, some people must

THE RAIL FAMILY 139

be hard to please. There the fish are, and the
interesting fact is known not only to myself, but
also to one or two friends still living. We once ©
tried our best to range that particular piece of
quake-belt, but failed completely.

It must not be supposed that these large fish are
very often captured, even when known to hover in
certain places, and when tried for by men who are
and have been past-masters in all pertaining to fur,
feather, or fin. The fish are very fastidious as to
their food, for one thing, and also as to the exact
spot where they have their home, and they wait for
their prey to come to them. One of the largest trout
that I knew was caught under two rough planks
that carried over a stream in some water meadows ;
and the last pike that came under my notice, a
fellow of twelve pounds weight, was caught in a
bit of pure spring-water no larger than a duck-
pond, and close to a railway station; in fact the
embankment formed one part of its boundary. Just
where you least expect to meet with things, there
you do meet with them. This is the rule, not the
exception, in the things concerning wild life.

When the little black, downy chicks are out,
both their parents have a most anxious time of it,
for pike, trout, eels, and snakes are on the watch
for them, as well as for the other young water-fowl,
as they run over the water-lily and candock leaves.
There is just a little tremor as the little chicks run
over those floating leaves, and then the fierce fish
below work their fins in eager expectancy, and they

140 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

slip off the leaf into the water and down the gullet
of a pike or a trout. Two or three will thus dis-
appear at a time, if they are huddled up together
when the rush comes from below. I have seen the
fish go through this kind of performance over and
over again. Trout are as voracious as pike, only
more dashing in their movements. As to the eels,
they are very fine in the waters that have just been
mentioned. They are silver-bellied, sharp-nosed
eels, not the frog-mouthed ones, and they have a
great weakness for young birds; the worst of it is,
too, that they can leave the stream that runs through
the quake, and travel through it to pick up any
chicks that come in their way. In the season, one
of the most deadly baits for an eel is a young bird
of any kind, a young sparrow being particularly
attractive.

A large trout is a very cautious customer. A
friend of mine tried for one that had its hover ina
hole formed by the wash of water at the base of a
very old sluice wall. He had tried him all ways,
so far as he knew, when I recommended a frog, and
told him how to fix him without hooking, so that he
should not be hurt in the least. My friend did so,
letting him go by that hole until he got perfectly
disgusted with his want of success. He released the
frog and threw him into the water. Down went
Froggie, striking out bravely until he got to the hole,
and then his striking out came to an abrupt end,
for that very same trout had him with a rush. The
man never tried for that trout again.

THE RAIL FAMILY 141

Where very large swamps exist, as in the fen
districts, Water-rails are abundant. In fact a trade
in their eggs is carried on by the eggers of the fens,
who will procure the eggs of any bird that breeds
there, or, if necessary, the bird itself. I have little
to say about this, for it is only the toll which has
been taken from a period beyond record from the
fens and marshes. No one but a fen or marsh-
dweller could procure the birds’ eggs, and these
dwellers in the wilds are not numerous now, for do
what they will their old haunts, or rather such as
remain to them, will not keep them as they used to
do. But the fen birds will only go with the fens;
and one thing is very certain, Water-rails will not be
exterminated, let the few remaining fen and marsh-
dwellers do what they will.

When hard weather sets in, and the swamps and
river tangles are frozen hard, then our little grey-
and-brown skulker comes to grief, for he can be
threshed out from cover. I have known three or
four Rails got in a very little bit of tangle, but that
was in the winter-time.

The Spotted Crake is a migrant, although some
of the birds will stay with us. Its habits are similar
to those of the Water-rail.

Baillon’s Crake visits us irregularly. From its
small size and secluded habits it has no doubt
escaped notice very frequently ; as, even when seen
for a moment, it might be easily mistaken for the
young of some other water-bird, especially if seen
in the evening. So well are its skulking habits

142 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

known, that in the marshes on the Continent small
Crakes are called “ Kill-dogs,” from the difficulty in
flushing them.

The Little Crake has not yet been found nesting
in this country, but it may have done so, as many
birds nest, get their young out, and then leave us
without any human being knowing of their where-
abouts and proceedings. This is as it should be,
for if the nests of all the birds that visit us and
breed in England were known, our poor feathered
visitors would have a rough time of it, in spite of
the Birds Protection Act. But the very nature of
their haunts protect the two species of Crake that
have been briefly noticed. The shyest of all shy
creatures, all they aim at is concealment, and they
carry out their purpose with perfect success.

I have been in, as well as on, very beautiful but
dangerous quakes, where green oat-grasses, tasselled
reeds, docks, sedges, marsh-marigolds, forget-me-
nots, arrow-heads, and water-lilies, with great grass
tussocks, spread in all directions. All was afloat
below, as you found when you broke through, and
the whole of this radiant display of wild-flowers was
“cluttered up” by alders, willows, and sallows ; some
fallen, others ready to fall, and a lot of them growing
vigorously. There was water all round and below
you, as you made your way, not daring to take a
step before you had probed for it. I saw as much
as I could manage while I was there, but I am very
sure that I did not see half the wealth of bird life
which that swamp held.

THE RAIL FAMILY 143

“T’m gone,” my old friend said, and so he would
have been if he had not clutched hold of a bough,
and even then he was up to his breast in the quake.
The pair of us were Crake-hunting.

The nest of the Corn Crake is formed in some
slight hollow. It is a very simple affair, lined with
a few grass-straws. The eggs, which number from
eight to twelve, are greyish-yellow in ground-colour,
dotted, patched, and blotched with brownish-red or
umber, and light purplish-grey. The young birds
are quaint-looking little things, covered with blackish
down. Directly they are hatched they leave the
nest and run about.

If you are walking through fields where the grass
is growing long for hay, you may hear “crake, crake,
crake-crake-crake.” These sounds proceed from
the Corn Crake, far better known as the Land-rail.
In some districts it goes by the name of Daker-hen,
and is also locally known as Land-hen. This bird
is a migrant, being heard frequently, although very
seldom seen, in the southern counties about the
latter end of April. Its being so seldom seen may
be owing to the luxuriant grass crops and other
cover suitable to it. Although numbers are about
in all directions, it is very rarely that one is shot or
captured.

I have seen more Water-rails that had been shot
than Land-rails. In my own immediate neighbour-
hood, the Corn Crake rarely reaches the hands of
the bird-preserver. It has been stated that this
bird can be drawn close up by imitating its cry,

144 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

drawing a piece of hard wood over the teeth of a
dressing-comb. Have those who made that state-
ment ever tried such a plan, I wonder? If they
have, and it has succeeded, all I can say is, that
they must be far better performers with a comb, or
rather I might say on one, than any one where
I live.

The Corn Crake never makes use of its wings if
it can possibly avoid doing so. Its flight is very
deceiving, a sort of half-crippled wing-and-leg per-
formance, but when well up—and birds of this family,
the Rails and Crakes, mount high when they mean
to travel—they go at a very great pace, like some
other short-winged birds that are well known. To
a great extent the Corn Crake is local in its choice
of a nesting site; when once it has fixed on this,
there it will remain.

One small meadow, surrounded by cottages which
were filled with children, was laid down every year
for hay, the owner getting enough off it to keep his
donkey in the winter-time. Now such meadows
are not supposed to be walked over, but the ‘“crake-
crake-crakes”—now here, now there—were a little
too much for the rising generation of those cottagers.
They quartered the meadow in all directions, but
they never caught sight of a Corn Crake. When
the grass was cut there, they were very anxious to
help make the hay, at least so the youngsters
declared; but in reality they wanted to get the
young Corn Crakes, and, if possible, one or two of
the old birds. They did see some of them certainly,

THE RAIL FAMILY 145

but all they captured amongst them was one black
little chick which they brought to me, to be turned
down again directly.

When the hen is on the point of hatching out,
she will allow the mowers to cut round her without
moving. Sometimes the poor little birds get cut in
two. It is impossible to avoid doing this at times ;
even rabbits that squeal, listening to the swish of the
scythe a little too long, share the same fate. Asa
bird for the table, the Corn Crake is highly prized.
Eight couples were bagged in Sussex while part-
ridge-shooting, out of a field of clover of about two
acres. I have never heard of such numbers being
procured at any time in Surrey. Why, where they
are fairly numerous, these birds should only be
procured one or two at a time, with wide intervals
between, I do not know.

The Corn Crake can swim when it likes to do so.
There is a circumstance which has forcibly struck
my mind many times, but which I have never seen
noticed, and that is that the plumage of the Crake
does not get saturated with wet. April showers
are proverbial, and, if thunder showers, they are
very heavy ones; but directly the rain is over and
the sun glints out, you hear “ crake-crake-crake,”
and the birds are searching for food. Small snails
crawl up the grass-stems, and hosts of small winged
creatures seek for shelter perfectly dry beneath the
grass-blades, where diamond drops are glistening in
all directions, ready to drop in showers at the least

breath of air or slightest movement from below—
L

146 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

yet the Rail travels and feeds through it all; in
fact a certain amount of moisture is necessary to
its well-being. In the hottest part of the year
1893 the Crakes deserted some of their well-known
haunts.

I have had one of these birds come and utter its
“crake!” within a yard of my feet, as I stood con-
cealed in the thick cover that edged a woodland
meadow. The cry then sounded very different from
its usual voice, instead of “ crake-crake,” it was like
the ‘“querk-quark, querk-querk-quark” of a little
duck. Any one not used to the bird would have
taken it for some half-grewn duck that had come out
in the grass snail-hunting. But although the cry of
the Land-rail sounds different when close at hand
from what it does at a distance, there is about the
same difference in the cry of the Cuckoo. If you
slip beneath some old elm where the Cuckoo is
shouting, its cry does not sound like “ cuckoo ” at all,
but it does directly you get the right distance off.

As a migrant the Corn Crake ranges wide. It is
common on some of the sandy pastures of the
Hebrides, where, from what information I am able
to gather, they are to be far more easily got at than
they are in some southern counties in England. At
one time, before practical field ornithology had
come to the front, as it has done of late years, this
bird was supposed to hide itself for a season, and
to pass into a torpid state, the opinion being very
prevalent that, as it had never been seen either
coming or going, it must remain hidden somewhere

THE RAIL FAMILY 147

during part of the year. It can hardly be expected
that birds which migrate at night, as Rails and
Crakes do, should be seen by people who are in bed
and asleep. Times without number have I seen
birds on flight, both coming and going, but only
once in my life have I seen them pitch down and rest
from their travels. They were Swallows, in splendid
plumage, fresh from the reed-fringed lagoons and
sea-weed-tangled beaches of Africa. I shall never
forget that sight, for I could have touched the
gentle twittering creatures, as they sat perched in
one long line on some fencing.

As all birds of the Rail family are inveterate
skulkers, any tuft of tangle or brush will do for
them to creep into when they first reach our shores,
—not a long flight is it either, if the place of pitch-
ing down be on the southern or eastern coast,—and
then when night comes they travel again.

I have seen Moorhens up at such a great height
that they looked no larger than Starlings. They
were circling round and round at a rare pace above
a large sheet of fresh water. As I had my glasses on
them and saw them ultimately drop down in the
water, there could not be the least doubt as to
their identity. Whenever I hear a Moorhen go
clicketing overhead, exactly like a Barn Owl, I often
wonder how far she is going before morning comes.

Lonely moor-pools are visited by Rails at night,
and if they choose to stay there, all well and good,
for there is plenty of the closest cover in such
places; but as great fields of corn and roots are

148 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

close to the fringe of these moors, the Land-rail gets
dropped when he rises at times in the same spots
as the so-called Moor Partridges. Sometimes too
in the autumn, just before he flights it again, he
gets his head into a slight horse-hair noose that was
not intended for him.

That some of the Land-rail species have been
found in winter is not at all an extraordinary thing,
as a few birds of migratory nature generally remain
behind, for some reason or other, to get through
the winter as best they can. If the winter were a
very severe one, I should look for the Land-rail and
the Water-rail in places where ordinary searchers,
acquainted with only the usual habits of these birds,
would never dream of looking for them. Where food
and shelter can be found in severe weather, there
will the Rails go at night to find such necessaries,
knowing that if they do not get them they will die.
All their shyness is for a time thrown to the winds.

The Land-rail I have never seen pulled from
its warm hiding-place, although one or two such
instances have occurred ; but the Water-rail I have.
It takes a lot to drive him to such extremities, but
sometimes there is no help for it. In cases where
Land-rails have been met with in winter-time, the
seasons have been mild ones. Whether in some
instances the Water-rail had been mistaken for the
Land-rail I am not able to say ; but they have been
reported to me so very emphatically by those who
knew the two birds perfectly well, that, to my mind,
there is not the least doubt of their identity. I have

THE RAIL FAMILY 149

so often known birds act quite differently in many
ways from their usual habits, that I can see no
reason why the Land-rail should not indulge in
some such vagaries.

The nest of the Moorhen is a bulky affair, com-
posed of reed-blades, grasses, and fragments of
sedges and other water-plants. The eggs, varying
in number from eight to ten, are brownish-grey or
greyish-yellow in ground-colour, with scattered spots
of deep brown, from the size of a small pea down
to mere sprinklings.

Green-footed Gallinule would no doubt be the
proper name for this bird, but Moorhen is the local
name for it, and it is a very good one. Moors, as
we all know, are generally associated in people’s
minds with heather and ferns, but there are two
kinds of moors, the wet and the dry. It is in or
about the wet moors that you may occasionally see
a Moorhen, though not very often, for it draws as
near cultivation as man will let it. It is a trouble-
some neighbour, as it does a lot of harm in the
gardens, pecking out the hearts of the young garden
stuff, so that it becomes a perfect nuisance some-
times. But as the Moorhens run like rats through
the tangle of the moor hedges that enclose the
gardens, they are apt to find themselves obliged
to stay on the wrong side, and never get back.
Being good to eat, their bodies compensate a little
for the mischief they do, but a couple .of Moorhens
will hardly make up for the value of a bed of young
cabbages pulled to pieces.

150 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

The Moorhen domesticates itself, if the least
encouragement is given it, coming to feed with the
ducks with the greatest confidence; in fact these
beautiful birds will at times get so tame as to be a
little bit troublesome. No matter where you may
see it, the bird always gives you the idea that in
some way or other it has been near or has mixed
with domestic poultry. Its movements when on
land lead in some measure to this idea, for it looks
like a half-grown black fowl running and picking
about.

The legs and feet of the Moorhen are very beau-
tiful studies, illustrative of the perfect adaptation of
the organs of locomotion to either the water or the
land. I have spent days and weeks, as the chances
offered, trying to get all the information I could as
to this, as shown in the structure of the legs and
feet of all waders, and particularly so in the case of
the Moorhen. But to carry out these studies you
must have the birds alive, or at least directly after
they are dead. It is not the least use softening the
legs and feet of fowl that have been dead a couple
of days, for by that time something has left them
which will never come back, and you might as well
try to put the bloom back ona peach after it has
been rubbed off. Those who have given such
matters a little attention will understand my mean-
ing, but it cannot be explained on paper.

The Moorhen can both swim and dive, and he
flies well when fairly on the wing; but as his real
flights take place, as a rule, at night, very little is

THE RAIL FAMILY ISI

known about them. As previously stated, I once
saw a flight at daybreak that very much astonished
me. The bird shifts considerably about at night
at times. When alarmed, it is occasionally very
clever in concealing itself, and it will sham death to
perfection, even when caught alive by a good dog,
without a feather being injured. If you did not
know the bird’s little tricks, you would fancy it was
a dead Moorhen your water-spaniel places so proudly
in your hands, his eyes glistening and his tail wag-
ging, because he knows he has made a clever capture
of a wary, hideling bird that is not easily circum-
vented. There it is in your hand, with legs dangling
and neck as limp as a wet rag. All very well so
far, but after being stowed away in your pocket, that
Moorhen will be out of it like any eel, unless it has
been properly secured.

Just a word of warning, before I go on, to those
who may shoot a Bittern ora Heron. Nothing takes
place, it is said, but the unexpected, and it is true as
regards these two birds, for sometimes they are put
up where no one would dream of looking for them.
But never put one in your shooting-pocket, even if
it looks dead, for they are terrible shammers, stealthy
in their movements, and if it suits their purpose
they can hold on and climb like cats. A man I
knew very well had a narrow escape from losing
one of his eyes over a supposed dead Bittern.

When the sooty chicks are out, the Moorhen
parents have a very anxious time of it, for the Heron
is on the look-out for them, and he does a lot of

152 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

wading in the reeds and the swamps all the time
young Moorhens are about. They would be far
more numerous were they not hunted for so per-
sistently by furred, finned, and feathered prowlers.

Deep holes are avoided as much as possible when
the brood is out, because pike are on the watch, and
they do not watch in vain. If the little birds keep
close to the side, in or on the shallows, great chub
rush out from their hovers under the bank, and take
them as a trout would a fly, for a chub of from three
to four pounds’ weight is decidedly inclined to be
predaceous if he has the chance; so that what with
one thing and another the poor little innocents have
a rough time. I think that if fishing-tackle makers
would fix up lures resembling the young of waders
and water-fowl, some waters would not hold so many.
predaceous fish as they now do in bird-nesting time.
I have heard a great many complaints made about
the real or imaginary loss of birds where fancy
water-fowl are kept, yet when the means for very
easily capturing their persecutors were pointed out
and shown, they were never adopted. But this did
not concern me, as I never had to pay for the
mischief done.

When the Moorhens nest close to houses or to
buildings used for farm purposes, they are compara-
tively safe, and they know it, and are quite satisfied
if they can have a very small pool or runnel. They
make themselves quite as contented on a little rush-
pond the size of a small room as if it were a lake of
great extent, and perhaps they feel it is safer for them.

THE RAIL FAMILY 153

Gardeners do not approve of them, but they look
very pretty on a lawn close to the water, where they
are encouraged to come in the winter; if fed they
will keep about the place. As ducks visit open
rivers where shallows are numerous and the banks
well wooded, the Moorhens form a lead up to the
food at night, and they are also company, for want
of better. At any rate, the ducks frequent places
where the Moorhens are, and some very decent
shooting is to be had at times. Decent, that is to
say, for inland rivers, as they are the heavy home-
bred birds, that is, birds bred in this country ; they
are worth shooting by those who have the right to
shoot there. At times you would think that they
had deserted certain places, but they are sure to be
in the tangle somewhere. When heavy rains have
fallen, suddenly flooding the river-bank high, and in
some places over the banks, you will see them
bobbing in and out like a lot of farm-yard pullets,
by the hedges, where they have gone for food and
shelter.

This bird has increased of late years to a very
great degree, and this may be fairly ascribed to the
gun tax and the Bird Act, and also to the more
restrictive measures connected with notice-boards,
which now affect people’s movements in certain
directions. But even if these had never existed,
the bird would have been seen and heard as usual,
for, like the sparrow, he is hardy, and hard to move.

The Bald Coot makes its nest of reeds, flags,
mares’-tails, and bits of willows. It is a clumsy

154 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

structure to look at from a short distance, but close
inspection proves it to be compact and very strong.
The eggs, numbering from six to ten, are larger
than those of the Moorhen, but similar in colouring,
being light yellowish-grey or stone-colour, marked
all over with dots and small spots of brownish-
black. The young birds are covered with black
down, the hind-part of head being yellow, the
frontal membrane livid, and the legs and feet dusky
green.

The Coot is local to a certain extent as to habitat.
Large stretches of water of moderate depth where
flags, reeds, and mares’-tails grow in abundance, are
the places in which to look for these birds. If the
least degree of protection is given them they are
not shy, for, like the Moorhens, they soon become
almost as familiar as domestic poultry.

I have seen scores of their nests on one piece of
water near me; some of them were built up from
the bottom, where the water was shallow, being
raised up to a considerable height; others were
fixed to clumps of sedges. No matter how or where
they were placed, the birds were continually build-
ing them up, the mares’-tails (eguzse¢um) being their
favourite water-plants for that purpose. Sometimes
both birds would work in the most business-like
manner, one diving and bringing materials, the
other placing them with bill and feet. When one
got tired of diving—for the whole plant is brought
up—the other would take a turn at it, the diver
evidently thinking it time to turn builder. They

THE RAIL FAMILY 155

seemed to thoroughly understand the principle of
the division of labour.

After the young are all out for the season, some
of the nests are used as resting-places at night by
the whole family. In building up for a resting-
place, all the young birds, which are nearly as large
as their parents, would dive for material, and bring
it to the old birds, who were adding to the base,
scratching and combing vigorously. Then they
would set to work to widen it, and some of the
brood would get in for a rest and be moved out at
once by their parents. A Coot’s leg and foot will
provide a good day’s study; and if a wounded one
claws your hand you will remember it for a long
time, for you might just as well have a cat clawing
at you.

Coots are good to eat, but they are not often
brought to table; because if not plucked at once,
while still warm, the down covering the body is very
difficult to remove. Very few cooks will deal with
Coots if brought in cold. The skin could be taken
off to save trouble, but that, in the opinion of those
who care for the birds,—I do not myself,—would
spoil them.

In some counties these birds are shot in great
numbers, but as a rule they are not interfered with.
On mill-ponds or ornamental waters where they
only exist in moderate numbers, ten or twelve
pairs on any water suitable for them, they are
most interesting, for they are continually on the
move or playing strange antics. When the broods

156 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

are quite fit to take care of themselves, and have
learnt from their parents how to get their own living,
the old birds drive them off from the water where
they were hatched out to find homes for themselves,
so that there is not the least fear of a small bit of
water becoming overstocked. When hard weather
sets in, the Coots visit the tide for a time, returning
to their accustomed haunts directly the water is open
for them. If any one of my readers captures a Coot,
let him keep a sharp look-out for scratches.

THE WATER-RAIL.

(Rallus aquaticus.)

Mate.—The bill dark brown ; edges of the upper
and part of lower mandible light red ; upper parts
olive brown, the middle of each feather streaked
with brownish-black ; some of the feathers on the
edge of the wing barred with black and white.
Primaries and outer secondaries dusky, tinged with
olive; inner secondaries and tail like the back..
Throat greyish-white ; fore-part of neck and breast
dull greyish-blue; belly cream-coloured, the sides
barred with black and white. Lower tail coverts
cream-coloured, barred with black ; iris red ; legs and
feet light reddish-brown. Length, from bill to tail,
twelve inches.

FemMaLe.—Similar to male, but the tints are
lighter and the red on the bill duller, and the legs
tinged with green.

THE RAIL FAMILY 157

THE SPOTTED CRAKE.

(Porzana maruetta.)

Mate.—The bill brownish-yellow, at the base
brighter. Upper part of the head, hind-neck, back,
and scapulars olive brown, each feather having an
oblong patch of the latter colour. The hind-part of
back has small white markings; the wings of a
lighter olive brown, the margin and outer edges of
the first quill white. Secondary and smaller coverts
are marked with small spots, white in the middle,
black at each end; inner secondary and coverts
barred with white ; tail feathers black, margined with
olive. Over the eye a broad grey band dotted with
white. The forehead, throat, and cheeks bluish-
grey, the latter speckled with black. Fore-part,
sides of neck, and front part of breast greyish-olive,
spotted with white; sides of body light olive,
barred with black and white; lower tail coverts
buff; iris reddish-brown; legs and feet yellowish-
green. Length, from bill to tail, nine inches.

FEMALE.—Similar to male.

BAILLON’S CRAKE.

(Porzana bailloni.)

Matre.—The bill dark green; upper parts of
plumage light reddish-olive, marked on the top of
the head with black streaks. On the back and on
all the wing coverts are numerous white spots,
surrounded with deep black. The throat, a streak

158 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

over the eyes, sides of neck, breast, and belly bluish-
grey. Flanks and lower tail coverts marked with
broad bands of deep black, and narrow ones of pure
white ; iris red ; legs and feet flesh colour. Length,
from bill to tail, seven inches.

FemMALE.—Similar to male.

THE LITTLE CRAKE.
(Porzana parva.)

Mate.—The bill rich green, red at base ; upper
parts greyish-olive ; all the feathers blackish in the
middle. On the fore-part of the back a large black
patch, varied by some white marks, thinly scattered ;
flanks marked with brown and dull whitish bars.
The throat, a streak over the eyes, breast, and belly
bluish-grey, without any spots; under tail coverts
black, barred with white; iris red; legs and feet
bluish-grey. Length, from bill to tail, eight inches.

FremaLe.—Upper parts reddish-brown; black
patch on fore-part of back, variegated with a small
number of white spots. Throat whitish; eye
streak and sides of head light grey; fore-part of
neck, breast, and belly reddish-grey.

THE CORN CRAKE.
(Crex pratensis.)

Mate.—The bill light brown; iris light hazel ;
upper parts of light yellowish-brown, each feather
with a spot of brownish-black. Wing coverts light
red, some imperfectly barred with white. A broad

THE RAIL FAMILY 159

band of ash grey passes over and behind the eye;
the face, fore-part, and sides of neck light yellowish-
brown, tinged with grey. The sides and breast barred
with light red and white; quills and primary coverts
light brown; the outer webs tinged with light red ;
legs and feet flesh colour. Length, from bill to tail,
eleven inches.
FreMALE.—Similar to male.

THE MOORHEN.
(Gallinula chlovopus.)

Mate.—The bill greenish-yellow beyond the
nostrils, the base and frontal plate crimson red.
The iris, which at a little distance looks red, is
composed of three rings: the outer hazel, the
middle dusky, and the inner bright red. Head and
neck deep dark greyish-blue, the belly a paler
grey. Some of the long side feathers are banded
with white. The back and smaller wing coverts
are deep olive brown; quills and primary coverts
dark brown; the secondaries tinged with olive.
Tail blackish-brown, under tail coverts white ; legs
and feet green, tinged with yellow, with a ring of
bright red above the tarsal joint. Length, from bill
to tail, fourteen inches.

THE BALD COOT.

(fulica atra.)

Mare.—The bill pale red at the base, white at
the end; the frontal plate bluish-white. The

160 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

head and neck are greyish-black ; lower part of
neck and upper parts of body dark bluish-grey.
Edge of wing and outer margin of first quill
whitish ; legs and feet blue grey, tinged with olive.
Length, from bill to tail, eighteen inches.

FemMALE.—Similar to male; tints not quite so
pure.

CHAPTER XIII
WILD SWANS

Tuat grand bird the Whooping Swan can only
be considered a very uncertain visitor to England,
as his visits depend in so great a measure on the
severity of the weather. Scotland and Ireland are
more favoured by him, being visited at times by
very great numbers of these beautiful birds. As the
fowlers who have shot on the tide there have given
most accurate and minute accounts of them, I shall
confine myself to simply describing what J have seen
when shore-shooting.

As a rule the winters are not so severe now as
they were in my earlier years, when I have known
it freeze for weeks without a break ; and when the
creek would be filled with floating ice, to say nothing
of the vessels which were fixed as tight as if they
were jammed by it. When the tide was high and
rough, the cracking, grinding, and crunching used
to be something to remember. In such weather a
few swans would visit the more lonely parts.

In some parts of Scotland, and notably so in
Ireland at the present day, very great prejudices
exist against shooting wild swans ; in fact, so strong

are they that some fowlers would not shoot a swan
161 M

162 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

on any account, for fear of such an act being followed
by some dire misfortune. Even on my own part of
the coast these birds were regarded with a certain
amount of respect, for their cries, and the swish, swish,
swish of their mighty wings as they passed on their
way at night, kept them in many instances from
being fired at, even by shooters who were very eager
to pull trigger at anything in the shape of fowl that
might be seen either on the marshes or above them.
I knew some who were not thus withheld from shoot-
ing the swans, but these were among the younger
spirits, and although these paid some deference at
times to traditional rules, they were not quite so tied
by them as were their elders. What really became
of those that were shot I do not know, beyond the
fact that one or two were skinned to make tippets of.
Five shillings would buy one of these at any time,
so they were not thought much of there, whereas a
crown-piece was.

Our domestic swans, at least they may almost be
regarded as such, get decoyed away at times and
visit the tide, but the difference can be seen at once,
after it is too late, and the bird has been shot ;
especially if “swan marks” are on the upper part of
the bill.

Bewick’s Swan is the small wild swan of the
fowlers. Seven is the greatest number I have ever
seen of them together, and, like the Whooping Swan,
it can only be considered as an irregular visitor to
English coasts, and particularly so on the southern
ones where I have seen them.

The American Swan and the Polish Swan I shall

WILD SWANS 163

only mention, without going into details. Others
must decide the point as to whether they are distinct
species or merely varieties ; I have never seen them
myself in a wild state.

Swans have a buffish tinge on the head and a
little way down the neck; and this, I believe, is
caused by stains from the bruised roots of plants
that the birds nozzle and spatter in under the water.
Some roots stain very much when bruised, as I have
found after searching with my fingers for things that
were out of sight under water.

THE WHOOPING SWAN.

(Cygnus musicus.)

Ma.e.—The bare space on the forehead, and from
the base of the upper mandible to the eyes, is bright
yellow ; basal part of bill and part of the base of the
lower mandible also yellow; rest of bill black ; iris
brown ; legs and feet black. Length, from bill to
tail, sixty inches. Wings, from tip to tip, ninety-
five inches.

Fema.e.—Differs from male only in being smaller.

BEWICK’S SWAN.
(Cygnus bewicki.)

Mave.—The bill black, with the exception of a
bright yellow triangular patch on each side at the
base; iris brown; legs and feet black. Length,
from bill to tail, forty-five inches. Wings, from tip
to tip, seventy-four inches.

CHAPTER XIV
CUR WILD GEESE

Tue Greylag Goose is the only wild goose which
remains with us all the year round. Numbers of
these birds rear their young in the remote parts of
Scotland, their nests being large structures composed
of the various kinds of herbage to be found in their
nesting haunts. The eggs, which are from six to
eight in number, are of a creamy white. Although
generally a most shy and wary bird, the Greylag
becomes bold in the nesting season, quite altering its
usual habits. The gander keeps close to his mate
all the time she is sitting, ready alike to warn her of
coming danger or, if necessary, to fight for her.

As this bird is a feeder on the green crops, and
takes care to feed itself in a close and systematic
manner, it is not welcomed as a visitor by the
farmers. “A wild-goose chase” is a well-known
saying, but its full meaning is best understood by
those who have tried to get at wild geese when they
are feeding on the green crops.

The Greylag is recorded as nesting one hundred

years ago in the eastern fens of England before
164

OUR WILD GEESE 165

they were drained. It is a matter for conjecture
whether it was this bird which supplied the feathers
for the yard-long shafts which did such terrible
execution in the good old days when English archers
drew the bowstring out to the head. One reads of
how the “grey goose shafts went merrily home,”
which means that they went in at the breast and out
at the back—but those arrows may have been
feathered from other grey geese which will be
noticed further on. Very great confusion has existed
and does, I think, still exist in the minds of the
general public with regard to the grey geese.
Judging by my own experience, I should say that
not one wild goose in twenty shot in this country
is a genuine wild Greylag Goose ; the geese procured
have turned out to be birds of a different build and
colour. They were grey geese, but not the Grey-
lags.

The Bean Goose is a migrant which visits our
shores in very great numbers ; in fact it is the ‘‘ Wild
Goose ” as known to shore-shooters. Its habits are
similar to those of the Greylag.

Very awkward mistakes, and sad ones too some of
them, have been made sometimes when these birds
have been feeding on the saltings and marshes close
to the tide, for at certain seasons the geese will
feed at night, and then is the time to go after them.
On one occasion a fowler shot his horse by mistake,
and at another time a man, who was well known to
me, shot his own son. Such incidents were once
only too common. Fowl, feeding at night, bunch

166 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

themselves up, taking strange shapes, and, when
alarmed, they run before flighting.

_ The Pink-footed Goose might really be just as
well called the Grey Goose, as is its larger relative
the Greylag, which has received the title. Of the
two birds the Pink-footed Goose has the more grey
about it. This bird is a migrant, but it has been
found breeding in the Northern Isles. The less,
however, that is said now about where some birds
nest the better. Strange to say, it seems to be only
some people who can find out where particular
birds build. Can it be that money finds out for them ?
There are some very clever and conscientious col-
lectors among my acquaintances; but there are
others whom I have not the least desire to know
anything about ; to wit, such as those who will pazué
birds’ eggs.

The White-fronted Goose is a smaller species
than either of the preceding ones. It is a frequent
visitor to our country during the winter. The
Laughing Goose is a name often given to it, on
account of its hoarse note, which is supposed to
resemble a laugh. Specially large flocks come to
our coasts during severe weather on the other side,
but it is quite uncommon on most of the east coast
of Scotland. In Islay again, it is commoner than
any of the other grey geese.

The Bernacle Goose is also a winter visitor to our
islands. The Brent Goose is sometimes wrongly
called by this name. In severe weather .mixed
flights of White-fronted and Bernacle Geese some-

‘aSda) ATOVNUAG

OUR WILD GEESE 167

times passed over our North Kent marsh-lands, and
strange confused cries were the result—cries that
often filled our superstitious folk with terror.
Then it was that many of the fowlers would keep
indoors, because, as they said, “‘ there’s bad luck when
the Hell-hounds is on the hunt.” Except during
exceptionally hard weather, however, the Bernacle
Goose is very rare on our southern coast. It is
less uncommon on the western parts of our shores ;
and it visits Lancashire and Cumberland freely.
About the Solway Firth many are seen at times
during the late autumn and the winter. Those
geese which have been already noticed feed on
grass, clover, and grain. To procure this food
they frequent meadows, marshes, and cultivated
land, retiring for rest to sand-bars that are not
quite awash, or to other lonely places where they
will be safe. But the Brent Goose has different
habits. It is a sea-bird, keeping out on the tide,
coming in to visit the mud-flats when the water has
left them, in order to feed on the marine plants,
more particularly on grass-wrack (Zostera marina)
and laver (Ulva /atisstma), both of which grow so
plentifully on certain mud-flats.

This goose, which visits us from northern lands,
from the time of its arrival to that of its departure, is
the goose to which fowlers both on the tide and on
the shore give nearly all their attention, for a good
shot at the black geese pays a shore-shooter well,
and is very satisfactory sport to gentlemen-fowlers
on the tide.

168 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

One reads a great deal of nonsense written by
people ignorant of their subject about wholesale
slaughter and extermination of the fowl. They do
not know how few fowl, in proportion to the numbers
that visit our shores, are shot, nor of the dangers
and hardships of going after them. Fowling on the
tide for Brents calls for not only pluck and coolness,
but requires great endurance as well. I will give
a brief sketch of one such night of “ wholesale
slaughter ” (szc).

Snow lies everywhere. Where it has not drifted,
every spot is covered with it for two feet or more
in depth. Where it has drifted, the thatched, low
cottages of the hamlet are snowed up to their very
eaves. Where the tide has flowed up over the mud-
flats there shows a great dark plain, while all around
is covered by a grey pall of snow, looking weird in
the sickly, foggy moonlight. The fowlers say that
either more snow is going to fall or a change is
coming—“ One or t’other” they say it will be.
Those dim masses on the rising grounds in the
distance are large military establishments, and that
huge object which seems to block the mouth of the
river which here meets the tide is a Government
dockyard.

The news has spread, as it does somehow or other
get spread in these small places, that a couple of
fowlers, who have for a time located themselves in
this out-of-the-world spot, are going out for a shot
when the tide flows. Such a rumour is enough to
make all the shore-shooters and all the fishermen

OUR WILD GEESE 169

who are at home hold themselves in readiness to
turn out when the time comes, in order to see the
expedition well off, for the fowlers have made friends
with all these good fellows.

The tide is up, and from the door of the small
public-house where they have taken all the rooms
that could possibly be spared, the two fowlers step
out muffled as if for a Polar expedition, and indeed
it is not so very far removed from being one.

‘All right, gentlemen,” says the spokesman of the
group that has been waiting outside, “if so be as
you ain’t no objection like, we be cumin’ to see ye
off, an’ bear a hand, if we ken, to git her out o’ the
drift-ice for open water.”

‘Thanks ; you are good fellows to think of us,”
is the reply, and then among that group there arises
a call for “old Coleman,” and a grizzled old fisher-
man steps to the front.

“You must be pilot, Coleman, for you knows
better ’an most on us what can and what can't be
done on a night like this.”

Thus acknowledged as leader by his neighbours,
old Coleman takes the lead, merely remarking that
“if she ken be got out, there will be a chance; fur
the geese have guzzled fur nearly a week without
bein’ got at, ’cos o’ the ice. Hark at it rattlin’ an’
crunchin’, as if a couple o’ three-deckers was a-
boardin’ o’ each other.”

Arrived at the rough shed at the water's side
where the punt was, with a man to keep guard of
herself and her gun, a consultation was held as to

170 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

the best means of getting her out. As the drift-ice
was naturally close in to the shore, the punt, if once
got clear of it, would be all right, and as there was
no wind, matters were not likely to be hopeless. In
fact the thing was soon settled, one or two lanterns
throwing a friendly light on the subject, while a
couple of stout skiffs made their appearance from
somewhere, each holding a couple of men, one with
a pole and the other with a scull-oar just to keep way
on her.

When all was ready, the order was given to
‘‘douse the lanterns,” and the start was made, the
fowling-punt being actually towed out into open
water by the two skiffs. It was not a long job,
only just a cut of the creek, and a short one fortun-
ately, for thousands of them exist out of sight, a
circumstance which makes this part prove treacherous
to strangers, and sometimes even to the natives
themselves.

In about twenty minutes the skiffs returned,
bringing the interesting information that the geese
were close in. There could not be the least doubt
about that, for their clang could be heard like a
pack of hounds coming over the water. The geese
had fed well, as, although there was drift-ice about,
none had formed on this part of the sheltered mud-
flats: what ice there was was only travelling drift
brought up by the tide from below, and was not
thick enough to injure the punt, only sufficiently so
to make it inconvenient for her to get out by herself.

The small company of fishers and shore-shooters

OUR WILD GEESE 17I

who stayed behind were very cheery as they waited
at the back of the shed where the punt was kept
under guard ; not because there was even the least
fear or suspicion of the people from the hamlet, but
because river prowlers now and again would come
like grey shadows from nobody knew where ; and,
taking what did not belong to them, would depart,
knowing that the water leaves no trail to track by.
Two dumpy bottles were going the round in a silent
but perfectly satisfactory manner, and pipes were
being lit, while the chances as to the geese were
discussed in low, muttered tones, for sounds are
heard with terrible distinctness on the water.

Presently old Coleman said, “ If there is a chance
they will soon hev it ; we shan’t hev long to wait. If
they’ve guzzled enough, they’re restin’ on the tide.
If they ain’t, they'll flight down to Lower Alston an’
wait fur the ebb.”

Hardly were the words out of his mouth than
the roar of the punt-gun reached them.

“Hark,” said the old boy, ‘‘hark! Stick me in
the mud and be d—d to me, if they ain’t cumin’ in-
shore to cross over an’ down Chetney Ma’shes. Hark
at’em! Don’t they crack on! Thud, thud! What
the devil’s that? Is it snowing brickbats ? ”

‘« No, it ain’t, Coleman ; it’s snowin’ geese. Look
here!”

“Jn’emat last! in’em at last!” yelled the old man,
and the others shouted too. It was enough to rouse
all the fowl on the flats. No caution now. Out went
the skiffs to pilot the punt in, and lanterns were lit.

172 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

‘Here she is! What luck? Twelve gathered!”

“ Yes,” cried a voice, ‘an’ two dropped ashore.
Here they are. Seven couple o’ geese! Hooray!”

After everything had been made right, the party
returned to the public-house. Very late at night, or
indeed it may have been early in the next morning,
Coleman was heard cheering the hearts of the
company with songs of a warlike character. One
chorus in particular was much appreciated—

“ For matchless was he that ruled the seas ;
His name like his fame
Immortal shall be.”

This was followed by the “ Pirate of the Isles,” a
ditty of the most ferocious words sung to a very
heartrending tune. But the grand piece of the
evening—for, as one of the party said, “ the old boy
was crowding on canvas ”—was the “ Mutiny at the
Nore,” which was given with great expression and
feeling. I shall never forget it as long as I live, for
the old boy looked graver than any owl could
possibly look, even if it were to try its best, and
this was the chorus—

“« Parker he was hung for mutiny,
That’s a thing you can’t deny ;
In a coach an’ four they went to London,
Cos poor Parker shouldn’t die.”

If those gentlemen-fowlers are alive now, and
indeed I sincerely hope they are, they may guess
who the writer of these pages is, for he was one of
the party on that occasion.

OUR WILD GEESE 173

THE GREYLAG GOOSE.

(Anser cinereus.)

Ma.tze.—The bill orange; the nail whitish ; iris
brown; head and neck greyish-brown. Upper
parts grey and brown, bordered on the terminal
margins of the feathers with greyish-white. Front
part of under plumage ash grey, barred on the belly
and flanks with brown; behind pure white; legs
and feet flesh colour. Length, from bill to tail,
thirty-three inches.

FremaLe.—Similar in colouring, but smaller.

THE BEAN GOOSE.

(Anser segetum.)

Mate.—The bill orange; base and nail black ;
iris hazel; head and neck greyish-brown. The
fore-neck and breast are gradually shaded with a
paler brown, fading into greyish-white. Upper
plumage deep greyish-brown, narrowly edged with
brownish- white; legs and feet orange yellow.
Length, from bill to tail, thirty-one inches.

THE PINK-FOOTED GOOSE.
(Anser brachyrhynchus.)

Matze.—The bill orange carmine ; the base and
nail black; head and neck reddish-brown. Upper
plumage ash grey, edged with greyish-white ; under
plumage fawn-coloured in front, white behind ; legs

174 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

and feet pale lake colour. Length, from bill to tail,
twenty-eight inches.

THE WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE.
(Anser albifrons.)

Mare.—The bill orange yellow, the nail white ;
iris hazel; edges of the eyelids orange. A pure
white space on the forehead, surrounded by a dusky
band. Upper plumage ash brown, varied with grey,
black, and dull white; front part of under plumage
brownish-white, with bars and patches of black ;
legs and feet orange. Length, from bill to tail,
_ twenty-eight inches.

FEMALE.—Similar to male, but smaller.

THE BERNACLE GOOSE.
(Bernicla leucopsis.)

Mate.—The bill black; iris hazel; forehead,
throat, and sides of head pure white. A dark streak
between the eyes and bill; head and neck black.
Upper plumage undulated with black and ash grey ;
the feathers with a narrow terminal band of greyish-
white ; quills and tail black. Lower plumage white,
tinged on the flanks with grey ; legs and feet black.
Length, from bill to tail, twenty-seven inches.

THE BRENT GOOSE.
(Bernicla brenta.)

Mate.—The bill black; iris hazel; head, neck,
breast, and tail black. On each side of the neck a

OUR WILD GEESE 175

patch of white, with a few black feathers intermixed.
General colour of upper parts dark brownish-grey,
margined with light greyish-brown. Quills greyish-
black ; the breast and sides brownish-grey, barred
with greyish-white; upper and lower tail coverts
white; legs and feet black. Length, from bill to
tail, twenty-five inches.

FemaLe.—Differs from male only in having the
upper part more tinged with brown.

CHAPTER AV

THE SHELD-DUCK

Tue nest of the Sheld-duck, which is placed ina
hole in the sand, is constructed of dry herbage, and
contains from seven to ten eggs, which are white
tinged with red.

The Sheld-duck itself, which is a beautiful bird,
belongs, one might say, to the sand-hills that line
so many parts of our shores. It is known under
several different names, such as Burrow - duck,
Berganser (or Barganser), Skelgoose, Sheldrake,
and Skeeling-goose, and these titles are sometimes
a little confusing. People who know the coast only
by visiting it at certain times when they think fowl
are about, have occasionally some very curious birds
provided for their especial benefit, for setting-up. A
good bird very rarely leaves the place where it was
procured.

The sand-dunes are very different to what might
be imagined by some people who had never seen
them. They are vast stretches of as up-and-down
a formation as a man might ever wish to travel over.

Some of them, the marsh-hills, are almost closed in
176

SHELD-DUCK.

THE SHELD-DUCK 177

by the tide, and when the sea comes thundering in,
the lower parts of the marsh-dunes get covered.
When the storm abates and the water runs off,
great pools of salt water are left in some of the
hollows, destined to evaporate ultimately as the sun
bends his genial heat down on these haunts of the
Sheld-duck. Beach litter, such as stones, pebbles,
broken shells, sea-wrack, and tangle, is strewn all
over the place where the hollows lie near the tide.
Bents, -sea-holly, and sand-convolvuli, and in all
directions stunted, starved, prickly thorn-bushes,
are dotted about. The whole place is honey-
combed with rabbit burrows; no wonder the
shooters keep open order, very wide apart, when
at rare intervals these desolate places are visited.
As some of them are completely surrounded’ by
water at high tide, a boat is necessary; the full
consent of the owner is also needed, as the sand-
dune warrens are ‘rented. The rabbits do fetch
something, but it is for the sake of their skins that
they are captured, for in winter the wind cuts like a
knife, and the fowlers need to have good jackets on.
In the summer, so very trying are these places that
I have known the best fowler out of the lot—one
who would think but little of plunging into salt
water in the dead of winter in order to gather his
fowl before they drifted away—completely done
up, and the other men were in worse plight than
he was.

The dunes are sandy wildernesses of all shapes

and sizes, a perfect maze—when you reach the heart
N

178 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

of them—of hills and hollows in whose placing there
seems to be no order. The white scuts of the
rabbits show continually, as they dot about from
bent-tufts and thorn-scrub. Eagles in immature
plumage, generally Sea-eagles, visit the dunes and
prey on the rabbits that swarm here when they are
on flight. So do also the Falcons (Peregrines these
are, rarely a Gyr-Falcon) and the larger Hawks, with
the Owls to help them. If the Raptores were to
stay for a year without being checked, they would
only slightly thin off some of the pinwire sea-weed
munchers. But this they are not permitted to do
without some interruption, as they are themselves
worth far more as specimens for collections than the
rabbits they feed on. However, all of them do not
get shot, far from it. If it is the sea-breeze that
gives them extra ideas on the interesting subject of
self-preservation to add to their usual keen ones I
do not know; but they are very difficult to get at.
This difficulty may be owing to the Cobs, which are
continually on the beat over these sand-hills, always
keeping out of harm’s way themselves, and giving
the alarm to all whom they perceive to be getting
near danger. When the Cob beats to and fro over
the dunes well up out of shot, you may crouch and
hide, but his keen eyes will be sure to see you, and
he will cackle loudly just to let all the other birds
know he has seen something. The worst of it is
they all believe in him.

Catch a Cob asleep, if you can. One of my
fowling friends once thought he had got one of these

THE SHELD-DUCK 179

fine birds, for, as he cautiously crawled up a sand-hill
to look over, he spied a fine Cob in all the glory of
his summer plumage, feeding on a large fish that
had been washed up. The bird was just a little too
far off, to make quite sure; so down the shooter
slipped and did a back-aching crawl to get at him.
Cocking his gun, he sneaked through a lot of bents
and thorns, and then looked very cautiously. There
was the gull on a spit of sand a quarter of a mile
away, cackling like a “natural.” The Cob had
seen the fowler, and declined to have any nearer
acquaintance.

It is out at sea, when the Cob comes with others
to tear the fish out of the nets as they are hauled in,
that he gets it; and it serves him right, for at such
times he does a lot of mischief in a very business-
like manner. Bad luck to the little Sheld-ducklings
if he catches them on the paddle ; but this rarely
happens, as they are well looked after, and know
how to hide themselves if danger is near.

Very little escapes the eyes of a warrener’s lad.
This one is barely fourteen, but the place is as well
known to him as his own home, for at times he
almost lives here. He knows where the Terns and
the Dotterels nest, also the Sheld-ducks, which, he
says, in the most quiet, matter-of-fact way, are
‘“‘wuss than foxes for artfulness.” Some of the
nesting-holes he has discovered by seeing the old
bird either go in or come out while he lay curled up
in the bents watching for rabbits—for the lad shoots
as well as traps. Others he has traced through

180 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

seeing the prints of the bird’s webbed feet near
the burrow. To ordinary observers it would be an
impossibility to tell which burrow held a rabbit or
which held a Sheld-duck, but the lad knows, and
makes no mistakes about it. When the shooting
party that I have previously mentioned left the
dunes, that lad was not distressed, although he had
been guiding the fowlers all day. Judging him
by their own feelings, they had been solicitously
anxious about him for some time, but he told them
simply enough that he was used to it all the year
round, “‘trapesing the dunes”; it did not make any
difference to him.

The nest of the Sheld-duck is well supplied with
down, after the usual fashion of the duck family.
Directly the young birds are fit, off they are taken
to the tide, and then you may say good-bye to them.
Sometimes the eggs are taken just before the full
complement is laid, and they are hatched out under
either hens or ducks. As this bird is very hand-
some and carries itself well, it is in some request for
ornamental waters. But even these young birds are
“kittle cattle,” and require a lot of looking after.
One of its local names, that of Sly-goose, gives the
clue at once to its character, for it is a bird which
requires a lot of getting at. Although the dunes
and the rough, broken, sandy pastures, sprinkled
with stone and dwarf furze, are its usual habitat, the
Sheld-duck flights the shores to feed, its food being
little different to that of the other birds: there are
no bounds as to where you may see fowl, especially

THE SHELD-DUCK 184

the one now under notice. It is conspicuous when
on the wing, so that there is no great difficulty in
picking it out from the others. The flight is some-
thing between that of a goose and that of a duck,
and one thing I know about these geese is, that they
travel faster than they appear to do.

The eastern coast is frequented by them for nest-
ing purposes in preference to the southern. There
are exceptions, for one lot of sand-dunes is like
another, find them where you will, and in all cases
the coarse vegetation and the general surroundings
are the same; but fowl come and go at no man’s
bidding. In places which were suitable for the
Sheld-ducks they have sometimes not been met with ;
and in other instances, when looking out from a sea-
wrack hiding-place for Curlew, just as it was getting
light, a couple have come leisurely flapping along
just on the edge of the tide, and, you may be very
sure of it, just out of shot. You can keep still if
you do see them coming; it is no use to run down
the beach for a shot; they are not divers, so you
may lie still and bear it. Sometimes you can load
and fire as quick as you can, with, if you hold straight,
fair results ; another time you may come home after
hours of weary look-out, cramped and cold, to break-
fast, with only a Grey Plover and three or four
Sanderlings in your pocket. It is a game of chances,
and as a rule they are in favour of the bird you are
after, but it is a consolation to know that the fowl
are about somewhere.

182 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

THE SHELD-DUCK.
(Zadorna cornuta.)

Matz.—The bill, and knob at its base, bright
carmine ; the nail dusky; iris brown. Head and
neck glossy blackish-green, with purple reflections ;
a broad band of white succeeds, then another of
orange red, encircling the fore-part of the body.
Rest of lower parts white, with the exception of a
band of black on the breast and belly. The feathers
below the tail sienna yellow. The middle and hind-
part of back white; also the tail, the six middle
feathers being tipped with black. Wing coverts
and secondary coverts white ; primaries and their
coverts greyish-black. The outer secondaries are
glossy green externally; three of the inner are
light red externally ; legs and feet flesh-coloured.
Length, from bill to tail, twenty-four inches.

FEemMALE.—Smaller than the male, and differs in
wanting the knot at the base of the upper mandible.

CHAPTER XVI
THE COMMON WILD DUCK

Tue Wild Duck, or Mallard, as it is more
generally called by all fowlers—it was always
Mallard when I lived near that noted decoy about
which there will be something to say before we have
done with this bird—has from those earliest times
when the monks of Crowland netted them in vast
numbers, been a fowl that all fully knew the worth
of. At the present time the Mallard takes the
front rank as a wild fowl. Endless quibbles have
arisen, and to little purpose, as to the origin of
some of our farm-yard birds; I do not think there
need be any doubt in connection with the Mallard.
I have seen a farm-yard drake so much like the
wild one that it would have been impossible to tell
the difference between them, setting aside the
question of size. It is the same with geese ; where
they are kept in large numbers, and have wide
ranges, individual birds can be seen which are
exactly like the wild Greylag.

The Mallards pair, so do the half-bred ones;
which plainly shows that in some cases civilization

demoralizes, for the drake of the farm-yard is a free
183°

184 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

lover. The way in which half-bred ones are got
is this: some tame ducks of the original colour are
turned down with some pinioned wild drakes, the
domesticated drakes being cooped up or sent else-
where, with the result that in the course of time
a lot of Wild Ducks very soon gather together, and
keep to the district in which they were hatched
out. The tame blood inherited from their mothers
is just enough to keep them about the water or
waters near which the nests were. I very often
visit a lot of half-bred birds which are wild to all
intents and purposes, at any rate so far as sport is
concerned, and also in their plumage; but they
come to be fed at a certain place twice daily.
Sometimes these birds wander and nest out; if the
eggs are found they are placed under tame birds
to hatch. There is as much difference between
these nimble little beauties and the farm-yard birds,
as regards size, as there is between a fine tame
drake and small gander.

There is a difference in weight in our own home-
bred wild birds, that is, between Wild Ducks bred
in the United Kingdom and the foreign flighters :
and when alarmed the latter are quick to spring
from the water; they are up and away. Flight-
shooting morning and evening accounts for the
death of a great many. And sometimes fowlers on
the tide kill numbers, for the flighters seem to think
that, for them at any rate, the open water is safest
to rest on; they come off it to feed at night, and
return in the early morning.

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 185

It was—we are sorry to write this—from tho-
roughly knowing the habits of these birds that the
fen-dwellers at one time were able to capture in
thousands all ducks—that is, Mallards—before the
fens, marshes, and flats were drained. The capture
of these birds for the markets provided the greater
number of the ‘‘fen-slodgers” with the means of
living.

Wild Ducks do not like a drowned country, where
the flats are covered with water for months; they
will not stay in it, at least not in a way that would
lead to their capture, because their nature is to
spatter and sift for their food in shallow places
where there is no need to dive for it. The
Wild Duck can dive well enough, but it does not
do this for a living; I have watched the ducklings
diving in clear water, and a very pretty sight it is.

This bird is a great favourite with shooters because
it can, as they term it, ‘“be picked up,” when the
weather is fairly hard, one here and a couple there,
ducks or drakes as the case may be; but, from
some cause or other, those I have met with were
all drakes. Any warm spring in a hollow choked
up nearly by weeds, and sheltered by pollard
willows, could be reckoned on as a sure spot for a
find; small numbers would come in off the tide to
feed in the day-time ; they had of course been there
before, and knew their ground. But they were very
wary, ears and eyes all on the alert, springing up
when least expected, going straight for the opening
between the mill and the mill-house, where we dared

186 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

not fire for fear of breaking the windows; and the
miller could not shoot for fear of hitting those in
front that had put them up. The fowl had enough
left-handed blessings sent after them to make their
tail feathers drop out. When we come to think
the matter over, those day-spattering Mallards were
far more trouble to us than profit; but I suppose
the same kind of thing would take place again if
the chance offered.

Plenty of duck-shooting can be had by those
that can afford it; fowling costs money, but it is
the sport, not the fowl, that is worth considering.
Only a few years back duck-shooting in the season
was carried on by every man and lad capable of
using a gun; there were no taxes either on a gun
or a dog at that time. No doubt we are benefited
by the fens and marshes being drained; but in
some places known to myself the so-called improve-
ments have been doubtful blessings to the general
community.

Flight-shooting is the only chance shore-shooters
have with the Mallard; off-chances in hard weather
such as we have mentioned do not count. As those
men I was once associated with made it their busi-
ness, the flight-shooting either coming in or going
out was carried on in a business-like manner, the
chances for and against being calmly talked over
going down to the creek. The fowl have their
fly-lines, which are rarely deviated from, if it is a
good feeding haunt, the principal question being the
height at which they fly. If they rise and flight

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 187

from a decoy they can be depended on; that is,
the ducks will pass over certain places with great
regularity. If they are going out there is the sea-
ward side of the sea-wall for you to crouch on, or
under, as the case may be; sometimes with a keen
wind blowing that would make your teeth chatter, but
that had to be put up with. If spin-drift was about,
the salt particles got in your eyes, causing you to
shed bitter tears, all for the sake of the poor ducks.
If you were on the marsh side of the wall, waiting
for them to come in, and things looked prosperous,
very often they passed in out of range; and some-
times, without any warning, a sea-fog would roll in
and pass over the marsh just before they rose from
the ’coy. That was the most tantalizing thing of
all; for you could hear the rapid swit-swit-swit-swit-
swit of their wings cutting through the air like
knives, without being able to get on terms with
them. Then the fog would smother you up, making
you feel as if you had just escaped froma grave-
yard. No wonder ‘‘ager-mixter” was a_ vital
necessity to our shore-shooters; at such times it
would be, “Come on, it’s no use; we'd better git
home,’—the men having had a three miles’ tramp
down, and a bad three miles back, all for nothing.
When a gale drove them in from open water before
their time, the men got something; for the fierce
wind kept the birds low.

“ Look out! here they come, crackin’ on all sail.”
Then it was beautiful for about twenty minutes,

“Bang! got him (thud!) all right; you can keep

188 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

busy.” (Snick !)—a miss-fire. Some one would utter
a very loud “damn!” then you heard, ‘Got ‘’em
clean right an’ left.” Thud! Then a faint ‘ querk-
querk, quark.” Thud again. Then some one would
try to get on with his gun at half-cock—such things
do take place at times with the best of fowlers in
the excitement of flight-shooting, so his chance was
gone, with that lot at least. The remarks he made
about things in general, himself included, when he
found out what was the matter would, as our folks
had it, have turned a fair-sized grindstone.

As each man takes his place in flight-shooting,
and never moves from it—that was the rule then, and
one that was obeyed—there was not the least cause
to challenge the shot. Each shooter knew the birds
that belonged to his gun. The fowl swish in and
out in companies ; not like a lot of Rooks, following
one another quickly, but generally with gaps be-
tween long enough to load in, if you are quick about
it. I am writing now about the good old muzzle-
loaders. No doubt the few ducks procured at that
lucky time would be laughed at now, for it is
quantity not quality that has come to the front with
us; but they were killed clean and fit to look at
then, there were no “sink-holes” blown through
them.

As duck decoys have been already fully described
in detail, I shall only give a few particulars from
my own personal knowledge, for at one time I
lived near a celebrated ’coy. A decoy for captur-
ing ducks is a very quiet piece of water, generally

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 189

surrounded by alders and willows; pipes, so called,
lead from the pond. These pipes are shallow-
curved ditches, covered over with netting which is
supported by hoops, fourteen, or it may be fifteen feet
high at the mouth, gradually diminishing as they
curve into a tunnel-net that can easily be taken off
and easily replaced. The pipes do not run all one
way, they are arranged to suit the shifting of the
wind. Gently-sloping grass-banks rise from the
edge of the pond, and these are surrounded by a
hedge or a cover of some kind to keep the wind
off, and to prevent the fowl seeing anything. From
the mouth of the pipes reed-screens are arranged
in such a manner that the coyman can see the
birds, or fowl as they are called, without being
seen by them. If he wishes to look at the fowl,
he slips a thin piece of lath between the reeds, first
parting them a little on one side, and peeps through.
Those of my readers who have never seen a decoy
will best understand it, when I say that the reed-
screens are arranged on the overlapping principle,
that is, part of one screen runs by another. The
laps or jumps are low barriers that the coyman’s
dog jumps over on one side of the screen, and out
on the other like a flash, to attract the fowl. Those
who have as children played the game of ‘‘ Thread
the tailor’s needle” will know exactly what the dog's
performance is like.

But before this subject is continued, let me give
a slight sketch of the Wild Ducks’ habits. They

are more or less night-feeders, coming in from open

190 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

water, or from some of the lonely creeks, to feed
in the vicinity of fresh water, if it is within a few
miles of them. The only motive the Mallards have
for resting on open water, or in lonely bays and
creeks, is the wish for safety. If they can find a
secluded pool inland, they drop down and rest ; that
is why decoys are constructed. Ducks are keen-
eyed and keen-nosed, their smelling powers are as
keen as their eyesight. Some who have perhaps
scarcely seen a Wild Duck have questioned this,
but let that pass.

The ducks having found out such a nice piece
of water, they frequent it; and not only that,
they find food also, and of a delicious quality,
with ducks exactly like themselves to show them
where it is, and to make friends with them. How
very nice! When they “raise” from the ’coy
voluntarily in the evening, they tell others in their
duck language what a fine resting-place they have
found, and they bring these with them until a good
“lead” is established. That is inthe day-time. The
pond is full of fowl, some of them swimming, some
on the gently-sloping turf-banks trimming their
feathers. Now is the time for what one of our old
marsh-trotting friends used to call ‘‘a little bit of
obfuscation” (deceit). The fowl have not for some
reason found the nice food, only little bits of it
left behind, what to them looks like from yesterday.
But their friends, the ducks whom they had found
on the water the first time they pitched, evidently
expect to find some, for they swim towards the

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 191

mouth of one of the pipes. There is something
there, just inside, some are softly quacking and
spattering in the very height of enjoyment.

Up the whole lot paddle ; those on the turf-banks
leave off feather-trimming and come also. Their
friends swim further up the pipe, and they follow.
But what of that? What business has that strange
creature on the bank of that nice water-way, a
beautiful curving dyke with food to be got there ?
Once more the strange form shows like a flash.
The wild-fowl make up their mind to see what it
is; they will not put up with this mystery. Away
the lot go after it, necks stretched, paddling their
hardest ; to find that their dear new friends have
left them without their knowing it, and have come
back to the mouth of the pipe.

They then catch sight of something far worse
than the red dog they have been following up: this
is the coyman, who now shows himself, for they are
far enough up for him to do so. Up they get, all
the lot of them; round the bend they go, the
coyman following. But they do not see daylight
at the other end, for the tunnel gets narrower and
narrower. They are not able to use their wings;
down they drop, to rush one over the other into
the hooped net at the end, the fatal tail of that
long pipe. This the coyman unhooks, and then he
at once proceeds to break their necks very neatly
and expeditiously.

A short time back that lot of ducks, or we might
say ducks and drakes—Mallards—ninety-five of

192 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

them perhaps in number, were at the mouth of the
pipe, very much alive. Here they are now, neatly
laid out, before being taken away, dead as herrings.

That is how it is done. One system will apply to
all the decoys on general lines, and as the art of
decoying was carried on in the fens from the earliest
times, the coymen from there have gradually taught
the art as practised by them to others in other
counties. Fowl had always been captured, but
the fen-dwellers, although they have been called
“slodgers,” ‘‘ web-foots,” and “ mud-nozzlers,” knew
more about it than did the marsh-folks. Gentlemen
who visited the fens persuaded some of the fen
coymen to construct decoys for them, or to re-model
those on their properties.

They met with fierce opposition, not shown openly,
for various reasons ; but a sort of quiet antagonism
prevailed, which made matters very unpleasant at
times. I have always been well posted in fen and
marsh records, and have full particulars of those
days, and as to past owners, dates, and the catches
round about our own shores on either side.

The fault of some decoys was this, they were
too large to be properly worked. Because the
marshes were of vast extent as marshes, the marsh-
men thought the decoys must be large in order to
correspond ; but that was a mistake. When the fen
coymen made their decoys for them the natives
sneered at the small size of these, but when they
saw the enormous results of this new departure from
their old, very old plan, they quickly followed suit as

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 193

well as they could. The web-foots and the marsh-
trotters, however, were never on friendly terms in
those days when I lived in the North Kent marshes.

Very strict laws exist as to decoys. It is abso-
lutely necessary, for one thing, that extreme quiet
should be kept in their vicinity. Any bird of prey
or Heron that showed must be quickly got rid of;
within a certain distance no gun dared be fired near
a decoy. If a fox got there he had to be got rid of ;
—foxes like ducks.

As to pike, if they do get in a decoy-pond, they
ought not to; but they do at times when the ponds
are away from the tide. They have to be got out of
it, for their vicious plunges at small deer found near
cover, that is, near secluded places, will at times raise
the fowl. The slush-up of a fair-sized pike in sedges
makes a very considerable noise.

There is always something to be done in or round
about a decoy-pond in summer and in winter. In
the summer the men have to see to all the details—
the water, banks, hedges, and the netting that covers
the pipes; to stop and firmly plug all holes made
by either rabbits or rats, for these creatures will
draw near if they can. So they are busy, the coy-
man and his mate, the latter being generally one of
his own sons; strangers they will not have, if they
can help it, at any price. So very close and chary
of speech were they, that it was a common saying
about those that we knew, that “if you had to talk
to them you had better take a crowbar with you to

open their mouths with.”
ce)

194 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

When I first handled a gun, unknown to my
parents—and | started that game very early in life
—I was told by my tutors in sport, of pains and
penalties without hope of mercy if ever I “acted
the fool” and fired a gun within a mile of the ’coy.
At last I had so much of this that it was difficult to
get me to go there at all, even when I was needed
to help over technical business matters of detail
with my elders.

When I used to sneak in from the marsh after
secret expeditions in the “dims,” to leave my gun
with the one that lent it to me, he would say, “ You
ain’t bin near the coy, hev ye?” until at last I hated
the very name of it; but it was all made very
clear to me as I grew older. The ’coy went, like
many more marsh-land institutions, when the marsh
was drained. Where they caught ducks at one
time they now gather fruit. How places change!
For centuries, things go on in one way, no one ever
dreams it is possible to alter them. Then a change
comes, and before you have time to realize it a new
face is on all things. Sometimes it is for the better.
It has been so in this case certainly, I know that
perfectly well; but it is not always so, and changes
are often a trial.

The life of a decoyman was not a very enviable
one. His firm belief was that every living soul on
the marshes was in league against him and _ his
precious ducks. If folks had not already done any
mischief, they meant to do it when the chance offered.
If he had not had these ideas he would not have

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 195

been a coyman; it would have been an impossi-
bility. That very peculiar race of beings, now fast
going out with their decoys, are as a rule most
‘‘owdaciously cantankerous.” Their whole moral
and physical being was centred in ducks, and ducks
alone. I am writing from the life. There is only
one way to get in a coyman’s good graces, and that
I will keep to myself.

In hard weather they had to be up all night,
breaking the ice and keeping the water open for the
ducks to come in from open water at daybreak. As
the rush of fowl passed over on their way to the
tide, clanging, shrieking, and grunting out their
rough notes, no wonder they said that the “hell-
hounds were out on the hunt,” believing that these
were the souls of those that could never rest, because
their storm-washed and battered remains had not
received the rites of Christian burial. In dead,
creepy wintry weather they said that they were
hunted. When the foul phosphorescent marsh-
lanterns showed, as they did at times, then the
spirits were searching for the least stray bit of their
bones, for they believed that if they could only find
a fraction their weary souls would get rest. Shut
off from common humanity, only seeing people from
the outer world at rare intervals, with not the least
chance of seeing one of the old-fashioned news-
papers—and when that rare chance did offer hardly
being able to get through the meaning of matters,
of political matters especially—they were dead set
against changes. They were not alone in this, all

196 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

real marsh-dwellers were here agreed that “such
things were best let alone for them as understood
"em; they didn’t.”

Yet when the call was made on the rough wild
marshes “for Queen and Country,” they stepped
to the front as their fathers had done in the time
of the first and great Napoleon. I knew many old
soldiers and sailors, when I was in my teens, who
reckoned it their proudest boast that they “had
helped leather Old Boney.” I never heard the
great general, or rather emperor, mentioned with
his full name or title; he was to them, and always
had been, Old Boney.

Just a sketch, let me give, of a coyman’s house,
before local government and sanitary measures were
thought about. A long, low, one-storied building,
the thick walls discoloured with all the stains that
the foul vapours of the flats can stain with, built of
rubble, that is, whatever they could lay their hands
on to build with, by fair means or foul. It was
old, heavily thatched with reeds, the most durable
of thatching, and as it had been renewed from
time to time without taking the old off, the thatch
was as thick as the walls, cool in the marsh-land
summers, and as warm in the bitter winters as any
house built in such a place could be expected to
be. The windows were lead-light ones, a fixed
light and a casement to each opening, heavy oak
shutters protecting them at night, secured from
within. Some rough flags a little raised kept the
inhabitants’ feet from sinking into the squash of

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 197

the marsh ‘when things was a bit damp,” in reality
wet howling weather, when the rain drove over the
bare grass stretches in sheets of water, blotting out
for a time all objects, far and near. The floors
were brick floors from one end to the other, not
‘ground for the floor,” as the song has it, but the
whole of the dwelling was on the ground floor.
Some rough furniture, just enough for the bare
necessaries of life, was there, and bare white-washed
walls, with the coyman’s wife’s dresser, where all her
crockery was displayed with evident pride. Some
heads of bulrushes, the giant reed mace, with some
reed tassels, crossed each other on the top part,
where her idolized “chaney” was ‘placed out of
harm's way. How some of her fragile egg-shell
porcelain, that she would say her mother had given
her, had been kept from harm, was a mystery.
Tea, before things were altered as they are now,
was a little bit expensive, and a pound of the best
‘‘gunpowder tea” as a present was considered some-
thing handsome. Not that I ever heard of the
marsh-folks buying this. You would hear them ask
for lots of things when, at rare intervals, they did
come in toa neighbouring town to do some shop-
ping. This was one of their greatest treats, for
then they heard how the little edge of the solid
earth just outside of them, with its houses and people,
was progressing.

Laudanum would be sure to be asked for. That
drug or medicine did not walk about the marshes
at night, as, unless some folks were grossly mis-

198 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

represented, chests of tea did. They had three
remedies in that damp land for all diseases,
broken bones excepted—these last cases were
very rare. If people fell at times, the ground
was soft and they did not come to harm. There
was ‘“ager-mixter,” in plain words hollands gin,
or brandy; “ how-do-we” (eau de vie)—this was
to keep the damp out when they had night work
on hand. Hollands? well, when it was thought
necessary, and that was pretty frequent. Spirits
and water, hot water, not cold—some of our water
needed boiling, and at times straining a bit. But
the laudanum bottle, and it was not a small one,
was the sheet-anchor for them. Twenty to almost
any amount of drops on a piece of loaf sugar, this
being kept for that special purpose, was good in
their opinion for all inward pain. After a time this
would create in some a vicious craving, and they
would take it in the same way that people take any
ordinary dram, and then it did not make them
sleepy.

For rheumatism they used goose-grease and
hartshorn, well rubbed in with plenty of elbow-
grease. They were a hardy lot, and it was needful
that they should have been, some of their so-called
remedies would kill ordinary people. I have had
them applied to myself once or twice, but never
again shall I share in the fearful joy of marsh-land
specifics.

The coymen, both fen-men and marsh-men, were
contented and happy in their own grave fashion,

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 199

for their wants were few, and they could get all they
wanted. They were philosophers in blue guernseys
and thigh water-boots, and they were wont to say
that the sky was overhead and Providence above
that. ;

And at last when the time did come to drain,
they could not believe it would ever be done, as it
was, in spite of all their prayers. When their
sacred duck decoys passed away with the rest, the
coymen reckoned the world would pass away too,
and they would wait a little while and go with it.
But when they found this did not take place so
soon as they thought it would, they turned to some-
thing else for a living; ducks or no ducks, people
must live, and they do, through it all.

The Mallard has free and enlightened views as to
the food-supply, and flights for it. There are those
that only have a superficial knowledge of the habits
of fowl, gained from a certain class of works, often
the mischievous, and we are sorry to say misleading,
output of men who are quite ignorant of what they
write about. I have seen some that wished to
pose as fowlers—save the mark !—afraid to fire their
own guns.

I have heard folks told that heavy fogs are the
best things that can happen for duck -shooting,
because the fog gets in the Mallards’ eyes, above
all birds that fly, ‘so that they flop about just
like owls, and you can get them anywhere,” and |
knew one to whom this was told who believed that
“the Bittern Hern (the Bittern) stuck his beak

200 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

in a hollow rush stem, an’ blowed in it like a
trumpet, and that was how he boomed, for they’d
sin him at it an’ heard him.” Oh, how our shore-
‘shooters roared as they took down their “ager-
mixter,” for which all that valuable information had
provided the funds, when the gentleman’s back was
turned. How kind they were to him when they
saw him off, gun and all, in the morning ; how each
one insisted on shaking hands with him twice over,
until his hand was numbed with the fervour -of
the clasps from their horny fists! Their kindness
touched him, and he told them that he had not the
least idea that they felt so kindly towards him.
With his left hand, his right-hand fingers were a
bit numbed, he drew from his pocket two _half-
crowns—florins had not come to the front at that
time—and told them to drink his health. They
said farewell, and wished him luck. Then. they
went back, drank his health, and roared again.

It is no use trying to pass for what you are not,
and never will be. From childhood the whole of
‘my own life, sixty years of it, has been passed in the
open air, by the waters and in the woods, by day
and by night. I mean by this all my leisure time—
plenty of it—trying to find out for my own pleasure
and instruction, never for money profit, the ways
and means of God’s creatures in their own homes
and haunts. Yes, sixty years of it, for long before
I knew my letters I played with creatures that
others would not touch.

How often have I stood on the fringe of a wide

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 201

moor under the woodland oaks, after the acorns and
leaves have fallen, with the drip, drip, drip of the
rain, and a cold one too, making one feel damp, no
matter how well clothed or shod, just to see a few
couples of Wild Ducks come to feed on the fallen
mast, the oak and beech mast! Where the great
limbs reach out over the moor turf all the hollows
are filled with water, dead leaves, and acorns; the
outer shell or case gets softened after being in damp
leaves and water.

It is what the moor-folks call a “dirty sort of
evening,” generally uncomfortable ; there is a lurid
light about, what they call “a wild look o’ things,”
and they are quite right in their definition; for
a long level line of dull orange shows, and above
that, bands of clouds of a dark cold grey, broken
here and there by ragged fire-like flashes, as if a
fierce fire was raging behind those dark cloud
bands, if they would but lift and let you see it.

The hills against that. line of dull orange show as
grey masses. In the middle distance, where the
moor valley runs, clouds of light grey mist appear,
rolling up and out from the great ducal fir warren
like wood-smoke from cottagers’ chimneys. The
warren looks like a great mass of dull indigo blue.
But as we are noting this, a light creeps and spreads
over the part of the moor which we are only on the
extreme edge of, patiently watching, well hidden up,
but very wet, looking for ducks ; with no gun, only
our glasses and our well-tried and trusty ash staff.
This strange wild light wanders here and there; the

202 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

dead tips of the ferns, as it passes over them, look
like brazen ferns.

Slowly it passes on, over a dead flag-edged pool
on the moor, that shows for a few moments like a
mighty sheet of polished copper, with great masses
of undefined purple shadows reflected in it. Then
it vanishes, leaving behind it a cold yellowish-grey
light, just enough to define near objects by, and that
is all. Swit, swit, swit, swit, swit, swit, swit! sounds
above us over the tops of the bare trees. It is
caused by the ducks circling round on swift-beating
pinions, before they drop down to feed. They have
come up from the mere below.

They are satisfied with their aerial survey of all
things below them, for they lower and come in, or
rather down, to feed. From our damp hiding-place
we can see some flickering grey shadows ; these are
the ducks rapidly flickering their wings in short beats
to break the force of their settling. We just catch
one or two more flecks of their wings, and then we
can hear them at work for acorns; we are not able
to see them now they are on the ground. Rustle,
rustle, rustle, spatter, spatter! as their bills sift and
nozzle about with the softest of “quirk, quirk,
quirks!” and velvety quacks from the ducks, for
there are ducks as well as Mallards feeding.

The Mallard is omnivorous ; the dreaded potato
disease, which is the cause of sad loss to the rustic
population, is to the Mallard a gain and a luxury.
Where whole fields planted with potatoes go wrong
with the disease, just as they are fit to dig up, those

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 203

that can be used for pigs are used, the others are
left to complete their rotting; generally they are
collected in heaps and covered with earth, for the
stench from them is horrible. But the ducks have
a different opinion on the matter; for they find the
heaps out, work into them, and feed all the time
they are allowed to do so.

In Sussex and in the Weald numbers of old
orchards exist, with trout-streams running through
them; the banks are high, because the floods cut
through in the winter-time, driving all before them ;
centuries of flood-water have made deep water-courses.

Now, although the trees are covered with moss
and lichens, they bear wonderful crops of the finest
fruit we have seen, the lower branches of some of the
trees are bowed down and touching the grass, loaded
with fruit. As there is not the least chance of all
the fruit finding a market, the principal part is made
into cider; we have seen wagon-loads under the
trees, the fallen fruit, for it hangs until it is full ripe,
as it saves some of the gathering. Naturally,
after they have been collected in heaps for some
time, preparatory to being crushed and pressed for
cider, a lot of them go rotten ; the Wild Ducks find
these out and feed on them, so do the Blackbirds.
When the night falls, the Herons are in the stream
working up the trout, and the ducks are in the
orchard cider-making, as the natives term it; that is,
feeding voraciously on the decayed fruit. They
do not all get away again, for this weakness of
theirs, leaning over to rotten apples and potatoes,

204 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

is taken due advantage of when the time comes
round.

When the season is right down moist; that is,
when it rains day after day, with showers in be-
tween for a change, the furrows in those tenacious
clay lands are full of water, no matter whether they
be left fallow or ploughed. The ducks come and
examine these for dropped corn, wheat, barley, oats,
beans, and peas, also for worms, grubs, and other
small unconsidered trifles.5 Some of them must
come from off the tide, judging from their fly-lines.
Sharp-nosed, silver-bellied eels and trout generally
go together in these streams ; the eels are better in
the opinion of the rustics than the trout, and they
are richer in flavour. The consequence of this is,
that short night-lines are laid on the shallows where
the eels like to rove, baited with a silvery minnow.
A fine Mallard that comes down stream under the
shelter of the high banks to do a little more cider-
making, catches sight of the minnow and pouches it
at once, casting his quick eyes round to see if there
is another. Not seeing one he turns to go, but
‘something stops him. He flaps, threshes the shal-
low water up with his wings, and quarks in a half-
choked manner. Some one hears him, slips down
the bank, breaks his neck, and pockets him, merely
remarking that “it warn’t a duck as he warnted,
but he reckined he must put up with it jist fur once.”

There are other methods of accidental capture
known to us, but we shall not touch on these.

Before we leave this interesting and beautiful

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 205

bird, good to look at and good to eat, let me first
state that the proposed drainage of the fens and
marshes, now nearly completed, met with great
Opposition, of a by no means passive nature, from
those that gained their living from them by fowling
and fishing in their respective seasons. The fowl
were there in quantities beyond belief ; but by those
that lived in their haunts, tons of ducks were annu-
ally captured by comparatively small decoys. As I
have the records from some of the decoymen’s own
books, for they were good men of business and kept
very accurate accounts, my proofs are positive ones.
Quite independently of the decoying, there was
the driving process, a most deadly method, for in
the space of two days two thousand six hundred
and forty-six ducks were taken near Spalding in
Lincolnshire, but these practices were prohibited
by statute in the reign of George II., so that only
legitimate decoying was afterwards followed. My
readers will get at the drift of the fen-dwellers’
opinions on the subject fully if we quote a few
verses from a ballad of the time, when the poet’s
power had been enlisted on their behalf. It is
taken from J. M. Heathcote’s Fen and Mere, written
before the fens were undertaken, that is, drained.

Come, brethren of the water, and let us all assemble,

To treat upon this matter, which makes us quake and tremble ;

For we shall rue it, if it be true that fens be undertaken,

And where we feed on fen and reed, they'll feed both beef and
bacon.

They'll sow both beans and oats, where man yet never thought it,
Where men did row in boats, ere undertakers bought it.

206 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

But, Ceres, thou, behold us now; let wild oats be their venture,
And let the frogs and miry bogs destroy where they do enter.

Behold the great design, which they do now determine,

Will make our bodies pine, a prey to crows and vermin ;

For they do mean all fens to drain, and waters overmaster ;

All will be dry, and we must die, ’cause Essex calves want pasture.

Away with boats and rudders, farewell with boots and skatches,
No need of one or t’other—men now make better matches.
Stilt-makers all and tanners shall complain of this disaster ;
For they will make each muddy lake for Essex calves a pasture.

The feather’d fowl have wings, to fly to other nations,

But we have no such things to help our transportation ;

We must give place—oh, grievous case—to horned beast and
cattle,

Except that we can all agree to drive them out by battle.

Wherefore let us all entreat our ancient water nurses,

To show their power so great as t’ help to drain their purses,

And send us good old Captain Flood to lead us out to battle,

The twopenny Jack! with scales on ’s back will drive out all the
cattle.

THE COMMON WILD DUCK.
(Anas boscas.)

Matzt.—The bill reddish-yellow, tinged with
green; iris brown; head and upper part of the
neck deep glossy green, with a narrow white collar
lower part of neck and a portion of the breast dark
chestnut; fore part of back brown; hind part of
back black; scapulars grey and brown, very finely
waved ; wings brownish-grey; the beauty-spot, or
speculum, purple and bluish-green, margined before
and behind with black and white. Lower parts
greyish-white, very finely waved with grey; tail

1 Small pike were sold for twopence in those days.

THE COMMON WILD DUCK 207

feathers brownish-grey, broadly edged with white ;
the four middle ones curled and black. Nail on bill
brown ; legs and feet orange. Length, from bill to
tail, twenty-four inches.

FrmaLe.—The bill greenish-grey; upper parts
dusky-brown, edged with pale reddish-brown ; throat
whitish ; lower parts greyish-yellow, spotted and
streaked with darker shades. Tail feathers straight,
speculum as in the male.

The nest of the common Wild Duck, which is
large, and roughly made of sedges, flags, and grasses,
is usually placed on the ground ina marsh, or among
reeds or rushes, or even in hollows or deserted nests
in trees, and very often in heather, at some consider-
able distance from water. It contains from six to
ten eggs, a dull greenish-white in colour. The duck
sits very closely, allowing herself to be almost
trampled on. When she leaves them voluntarily,
they are covered up by her.

CHAPTER XVII
THE TEAL AND GARGANEY

Tue Teal is a handsome, sprightly, neat-looking
little fowl. It frequents large splashes of fresh water
fringed with sedges, reeds, alders, and dwarf willows,
shallow waters suiting it best ; in these it can spatter
and sift for its food without the least exertion.

In the “ fall,” thousands of acres are under water,
because the flooded rivers and streams are not able
under certain conditions of wind and tide to empty
themselves into tidal waters. Thus the large grazing
flats become, for a time, drowned lands ; and when a
change comes, and the great body of water is able to
flow away, there remains for months afterwards a
general state of “‘soppiness.” Even in summer, the
water-gripes and the broad cuts which run through
are never dry; but in a flooded autumn season the
“gripes” are brooks, and the cuts look like small
rivers. Nothing is to be seen but miles of grey-
green pastures, intersected in all directions with lines
of old pollards, and old sedge and reed-beds. A
dreary look-out this is, and a damp one too for the

shooters, but a perfect feeding-range for Teal.
208

THE TEAL AND GARGANEY 209

They seem to know that they are in great request,
and for that reason they feed where there is not the
slightest chance of getting at them. It is not
pleasant to look at—a large spring of one hundred,
or it may be nearly two hundred Teal, without any
chance of placing even one bird in your pocket, much
less a couple. Yet such is very frequently the case.
It would be all right if you could only get among
them, but that is just what you are not able to do.
Moreover, they are very quick on the wing, spring-
ing up and off in a very snipe-like fashion. If you
do not get them at once, they are, as the saying is,
‘round the corner and in the next street” quick.
A fair snipe shot will generally account for Teal
when the chance offers, but a few couples—got by
patiently trying up the gripes, and cautiously getting
on the edges of covered-in pools and splashes—are
a mere nothing.

Apart from their value as table birds, there is
another point to be regarded, and that is the value
of Teal from a bird-preserving view. Old, full-
feathered drake Teals are by no means numerous,
and before I left the moist flats, a Teal drake in all
the pride of full plumage would fetch more at the
bird preserver’s than elsewhere. Any number of
the birds can be had in all stages of plumage; but
out of fifty you may not be able to pick out a drake
in perfect feather. They are delicate birds, and it
does not take much to kill them. If they are hit, a
snipe charge will stop them.

In hard weather they visit the tide, not from
P

210 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

choice but necessity. As their Jarger relatives, the
Mallards, are similar in their general habits, the
springs of Teal mix with them, and go with them to
the decoy-ponds, leaving the greater part of their
company behind. Decoys have been constructed
specially for Teal, but duck-decoys answer the pur-
pose very well at times, and it was from the decoys
that the large numbers of Teal reached the market,
where, in dealers’ terms, they were called half duck.
The reason of this was that a couple of Teal were
considered equal to one Mallard, and were paid for
as such—as half fowl—so that two Teal drakes and
two ducks, that is, four half fowl, were paid for at
the same price as a Mallard and duck, whole fowl.
The question as to whole or half fowl constitutes a
very important matter in all wild-fowl dealings, and
if the matter is not distinctly understood, things do
not always run quite smoothly.

It would not, in the full sense of the word, be
correct to say that Teal nest in some of the southern
counties. But a few couples do nest in certain
favoured spots well known to me, which, however, I
shall not even indicate. One spot that I frequently
visit holds Wild Duck, Teal, Woodcock, and Snipe,
and, what is of more interest, they nest there in the
nesting season.

It is really a wonder how the Teal duck manages
to get her down-covered young ones—dark olive on
the back, and ochre colour below—from her nesting-
place. From the alder moor above to the lake
below is a considerable toddle for the squeaking,

‘ALUVG ATINVY YT

THE TEAL AND GARGANEY 211

mouse-like creatures; but she manages to bring
them bundling along, in any rut, drain, or cart-track,
her nimble little brood following closely in her wake.
If seen, as she sometimes is, no harm comes to her,
it being the universal belief that those who wantonly
injure innocent creatures will surely come to harm
of some kind, either sooner. or later,

Here is a bog covered with grass tussocks and
alders, not a floating: bog, but a spongy one. It is
on the slope of the hill-side, and at its upper end
you can get about without getting wet-footed. Close
by its side runs a rough cart-track, stone-littered and
heather-patched ; so little, in fact, is it used, that the
heather has even grown over the cart-wheel ruts.
Rabbits are numerous, and that is why some object,
which has come from the bog and gone into the
rut some distance above, is taken to be one of these
animals, and is not further noticed.

While I stand thinking about wild life in general,
and nothing in particular, a faint noise very like
that made by young ducks reaches my ear. What
can it be? Young weasels? No, it is not their
time. The noise gets nearer. Cautiously looking
up a straight bit of the cart-rut, I can see a brown
bird coming, and followed by what looks like a lot
of mice. The bird has seen me. One or two small
quacks are given, then she stretches her head and
neck on the ground and flaps with her wings as
much as the confined space of the rut allows her. I
do not go too near, lest the little ones should hurt
themselves ; some of them are trying to get out of

212 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

the rut, but they only come down on their backs,
their little paddles working frantically as they try to
get up again. The Teal duck is taking her brood
to some small pools just below. Taking a sweep
out into the heather, I re-enter the road above her,
so as to leave her in peace. For a certainty, no
friend of mine could interfere with a feathered family
such as this.

The Garganey Teal goes also by the names of
Cricket Teal, Pied Wigeon, and Summer Teal; the
last name is the most suitable, as this bird is only a
migrant. Any waters suitable for wading birds are
also suitable for the Garganey.

The plumage is not so gay as that of the Common
Teal, but the tones of colouring are beautifully ar-
ranged. A notice of this bird is given, although it
very rarely finds a place in the ordinary shooter's
bag. It can be had sometimes, if sought for in
proper places ; some quiet bay in any slow-flowing
river, surrounded by oat-grass, candocks, sedges, and
trailing tangle, is pretty sure to hold something ; at
least I have been able to find birds in such bits of
river water.

A good water-spaniel does not require to have one
word said to him, and what e does not know the
man who carries the gun is not able to tell him.
Nothing puts me out more than to see a good dog
in front of a man who is not fit to carry a gun.
Dogs have been rated often for having more brains
than those behind, for whom they were doing their
best to find birds ; which when they were found were

THE TEAL AND GARGANEY 213

clean missed, the poor dogs receiving a peppering
instead. Fools sometimes get at the ends of guns
as well as of fishing-rods, and then men’s eyes are
knocked out and dogs are crippled. This is sport
(save the mark!) with a vengeance.

I have had the pleasure, and I may say the
honour, to shoot in the company of some of the
best fowlers, not shore-shooters, of their day. No
matter what got up, hare, rabbit, partridges, hen-
footed fowl, or web-footed fowl, due law was given,
and then up went the long fowling-piece. In eight
cases out of ten the creature would drop dead in its
tracks.

“You shoot a hare,” was said in quiet scorn to
one who had not shot forward enough ; “it squeals ;
it’s murder.”

The young shooter knew his man, and rested his
gunstock on the toe of his boot, simply saying—

“TI beg your pardon, I did not aim forward
enough.”

Looking at the young fellow, barely out of his
teens—the man’s keen grey eyes saw quite as much
as most people’s, and perhaps a little more—they
were eyes that glittered like cold steel when he was
angry—he made reply—

“ Allright, youngster ; you can keep your * paddy’
under I see’’—the lad’s face was crimson, and his
eyes blazing. ‘ That’s right, choke it down ; it will
be of use to you when you get older, for there is a
~ little too much gunpowder in your composition, and
the least thing lights it. Now I will give you a

214 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

lesson; when the next hare gets up, you watch
nie.”

The hares on the flats were large and rough-
coated, not like the sleek-coated creatures of southern
park-lands. If the weather were at all fair they
would generally lie between the mole hillocks, almost
between the feet of the fowlers,

One got up, going away at top speed. There was
not the least hurry. ‘“ About right distance,” he
muttered. Then the report of his gun rattled over
the flats, and that hare turned a somersault and lay
dead as a stone.

When in pursuit of water-fowl that feed, as a rule,
about the margins of rivers, lakes, and streams, no
happy-go-lucky system will answer. They frequent
certain places for food, and the first thing to do is to
try and find out what that food is, and at what times
they search for it, whether morning, evening, or
night. Another consideration is the locality. I
have put Teal and ducks up from pools close to
well-used footpaths, but’all the traffic was over early
in the day, and of the fact the fowl were perfectly
aware,

The same rule applies to fowling which applies
to fishing. Keep quiet and away from the banks;
crawl as much as you like and as slow as you
like, but do not move any creatures from under
them if you can help it, whether furred or finned ;
indeed it is always best to act as if certain they
were there, and then you will not make blunders.
All fowl which feed in or on fresh waters are sure

THE TEAL AND GARGANEV 215

to spatter and sift for food, either under the banks
or round the edges of river tangle. When put up,
there is only a flick and a flutter and they are gone.
If you are not ready for them the fault will be your
own, and you must put up with the consequence.

A Garganey may be known to frequent a certain
place, but one may have to go several times before
getting the bird. If a couple are settled there, you
may be able to procure them, but as a rule it is
only one that comes to grief, for the other shifts.
What their numbers may be now in certain districts
cannot be said, because it is impossible to reckon,
for changes come with such rapidity that old haunts
of fowl vanish almost directly the change has been
decided upon.

My limited experience of the habits of the
Garganey is that they are of a secretive nature
when frequenting inland waters. Sometimes one
or a couple will frequent a quiet bit of water close
to some mansion.

“ Hi, Luce!” and round the corner of the looker’s
house appeared one of the finest spaniels that ever
a fowler would wish to look at. A beauty she was,
white with liver-coloured patches, and, though that
is saying a great deal, as good as she was good-
looking. The looker’s wife and children were
fond of her, and that was all very well when she
had to be at home; but her devotion was for her
master. He was a good one, and she would watch
for him, and, when allowed, follow him everywhere.
“No, Luce; no, my gal, you can’t cum to-day.

216 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

Go an’ keep the missus an’ the young ’uns comp’ny.
Look at her. Damned if she ain’t goin’ tu cry just
because I must leave her at home.”

I knew Luce, short for Lucy, well. I have heard
her bay out her deep bell-like tones, as she would
challenge at rare intervals a strange footstep pass-
ing by the looker’s house, for she was a good house

guard.
“A better crittur ’an Luce was never whelped,”
her master has told us over and over again. “She'll

find fur ye anything—woodcocks, snipes, fowl, hares,
an’ rabbits, an’ bring ’em to ye; it don’t matter
where they drops or gits tu. An’ she ken swim an’
dive like any otter.” This was high praise, but the
dog deserved it all.

One day he remarked—“ There’s a Teal in the
reed-splash o’ sum sort, cricket (Garganey) or
green-winged ‘un (Common Teal). Hi, Luce gal,
cum along.”

She did not want telling, she was quite ready.
Her master just indicated the reed-splash, and off
she trotted a little way in front of us, turning her
head from time to time to see if we were keeping
close. As the splash was neared, she made a dead
stop until her master had posted himself with his
gun, and then she glided into the tangle of the
splash. Now and then the reed-tassels would
move as she quietly passed through, but not even
a Tit showed itself above them; her quiet move-
ments alarmed nothing.

Presently four or five tassels moved, bowed down,

THE TEAL AND GARGANEY 217

crossing each other, then sprang up again. “She’s
found,” whispered the looker, with his finger touch-
ing the trigger. A few more nods and bends among
the reeds, then a slight flutter, and up sprang a
Teal; but it was no sooner up than down. Luce
brought it to her master, wagging her tail at a rare
rate. It was a fine drake Garganey.

“Luce must ha’ worked him close afore he
sprung, fur he dived. Look here,” said the looker,
as he handed me the bird, “he’s wet under the
wings.”

THE TEAL.

(Querquedula crecca.)

Mate.—The bill is black; iris brown ; head and
upper part of neck chestnut brown. From the eye
to the nape is a shining green oblong patch, narrowed
behind, and margined in front and below with a black
band and a white line. A curved band of white
rises from the base of the lower mandible and passes
over the eye; the feathers margining the base of
the bill dusky ; the throat brownish-black ; on the
middle of the hind-neck is a black patch. The upper
parts are waved with brownish-black and white ; the
hind-part of back brownish-grey, faintly waved ; the
scapulars partly grey, yellowish-white, and black.
The wing coverts, primary quills, and coverts
are brownish-grey ; outer secondary coverts reddish-
white towards the end. Beauty-spot velvet black,
and bright green glossed with purple; upper tail

218 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

coverts black, edged with grey ; tail feathers brown-
ish-grey, edged with paler shade. A part of the
lower neck is barred in front as well as behind ; the
rest, with part of the breast, is yellowish-white, with
roundish black spots; hind-part of breast, sides, and
belly white, waved with grey. Under the tail are two
cream-coloured patches and a black middle space.
Legs and feet are bluish-grey, tinged with brown.
The length of the bird, from bill to tail, is fourteen or
fifteen inches.

Femace.—Bill blackish-green ; head light brown,
with dusky streaks ; back dark brown, each feather
having two bands of yellowish-brown ; beauty-spot
velvet black and green. The neck in front is yellow-
ish-brown, waved with darker shade; the breast
white ; the rest of the lower parts brownish-white,
spotted with brown.

THE GARGANEY TEAL.

(Querquedula circia.)

Mate.—Bill blackish-brown ; iris brown ; upper
part of head, and a band along the hind-neck, umber
brown. A white band over the eye and along the
neck; cheeks and upper part of neck chestnut
brown, finely barred with white. The back dark
brown, the feathers being edged with light brown.
The scapulars are black, with a middle white stripe ;
beauty-spot dark bluish-green, margined with white ;
lower neck and part of the breast dark brown, with
paler crescent-shaped markings. The lower parts

THE TEAL AND GARGANEY 219

are white, but the sides are marked with black
waved lines, leaving two broad bands behind ; legs
and feet greyish-brown. Length, from bill to tail,
sixteen inches.

FEMALE.—Smaller. Head brown, with dusky
spots ; over eye a brownish-white band with dusky
streaks. The feathers of the upper parts are dark
brown tinged with green, and have reddish-brown
edges and whitish tips; wing coverts brown. The
speculum or beauty-spot dull green; throat white ;
the fore-neck and breast greyish-white, marked with
brown; side feathers brown, with white margins.
Rest of lower parts white.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE PINTAIL DUCK AND THE SHOVELLER

Tue elegantly-formed bird which is known as the
Sea Pheasant, Winter Duck, Pintail Duck, and Pin-
tail Teal, is, as one of its local names denotes, among
our winter visitors ; it visits not only the inland waters
but also the coast. Like the Magpie, it pays much
attention to its elongated tail, which is raised when
on the water, and also when the bird is on land. By
some this bird has been classed with the Teals; but
to me it has been, and always will be, simply the
Pintail Duck.

After the weather has been very rough, a few
Pintail Ducks will have come with other fowl as near
to the harbour's mouth as they apparently consider
prudent, and there they may be seen rising and falling
like corks, now down in the hollows, now on the
crests of the waves, their tails cocked up and their
eyes looking exceedingly wide-awake. As to pro-
curing a Pintail Duck at such a time, well, it would
be absolute folly even to think about it.

It has been ‘dirty weather” for nearly a week off

and on, and the fishing-boats are closely packed in
220

THE PINTAIL DUCK AND THE SHOVELLER 221

the small harbour, anchored under bare poles. The
place looks like a fir plantation with all the boughs
lopped off.

If you will only go as far as the end of the quay
from which the sea-wall starts, you may see the waters
leaping and rushing in huge sheets of blinding spray
over the sand-bar ; and you will hear the roar which
is none the less terrible in its sound because distance
softens it. No craft belonging to the place are out
to-day, and in that fact lies a consolation of which
inland dwellers can form no conception. Women,
married and single, are on the quay talking to one
another ; they can hear the hiss and roar of the bar,
and with glistening eyes and lowered voices they
thank God that this time their men are at home, or
at least in harbour, which means much the same
thing, considering that none but a native of the place
could reach that haven of rest from the open sea,
such a network of channels intervenes. So close is
the steering that, when the tide has gone down, the
cuts of the keel in the ooze may be seen.

Hundreds of times have I watched them come in
from open water, each skipper and his small crew so
well known to me, and loudly were they hailed as
they swept up the winding channel, darting now
here, now there, for sailing water. To all appear-
ance the skippers of those crafts which followed in
each other’s wake were taking matters very uncon-
cernedly, but this was not really the case. Their
keen eyes were taking everything in, and. their
strong grasp on the tiller was that of long practice,

222 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

and it humoured the crafts to the utmost. To
a stranger watching them enter the harbour full
speed, it would look as if by no possible chance
could they help dashing into other craft already
anchored. But not so. Down would come the sails
like magic, out would run the anchor-chain, and
they were at their moorings.

There is a time for all things, and what a man
has done at twenty-two, he can hardly expect to be
able to do when he is sixty, although even then
some will have a good try at repeating the exploits
of their youth. I have been out in all weathers,
simply because I liked it, but, when one is com-
pelled to throw oneself down on the spray-damped
shingle, and to grip down in it in order to keep
from being lifted over the sea-wall, the work is
more than rough enough.

“What hev ye got thet gun out fur? Surely ye
ain’t goin’ near the mouth where the bile-up from
the bar cums in, be ye? Ye wun’'t be sich a fool;
why ’tis bubblin’ an’ hissin’ like a copper gone mad
on a washin’-day. Bide here, don't get driftin’
down the mouth o’ that place; all the salts is
brimming up the wall.”

“Well, I thought that some fowl might be in the
bay bend of the second channel ; it is slack water
there.”

“Oh, well, look here. Curly Ned hev got his
craft on them salts; he got her up there out o’ the
way, to tar her. He’s aboord her, I know, and her
skiff is there. But don’t ye git acting the fool now.

THE PINTAIL DUCK AND THE SHOVELLER 223

You ought to be tarred an’ feathered, you owdacious
rip, you did. There, ’tis no good talking, you
means going, I kin see.”

Some manceuvring in the way of water dodging,
and the place was reached. There was the vessel
in all certainty, but apparently there was not a soul
on board.

“ Spanker ahoy, ahoy!” I hailed, and barely had
the hail been given, when up popped a red fisher-
man’s cap.

‘What cheer, my son, what cheer! Cum aboord.
This ’ere is a bit o’ luck; ’tis like being marooned
on a desert islan’, being the only crew aboord.
Tumble in. She’s fairly wittled, for there’s skate
and dabs and ’taters, and biscuit and soft tack
(bread) in the locker, an’ a full Dutchman (bottle
of hollands). My watch is up in the arternoon, fur
dad’s cumin’ down then. What are ye on the
cruise for ?”

‘Fowl, Curly, if there is a chance; there is some
about.”

‘Yes, there is, at the gullet o’ that slack-water
bay ; but ‘tis risky, the water biles.”

“Can I try?”

“Now look here. If I get the skiff out, will
you keep watch along o’ me arterwards till dad
cums ? for ’tis enough to give you the blues bein’
alone.”

“Yes, all right.”

‘““Then out she goes, sink or swim, Get in the
bows ; ye are loaded.”

224 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

I had not the least wish to see what it was like
round the corner of that slack-water bay, as it was
bad enough here, where the waters, covered with
great patches of foam and foam-bells and dirty
yellow froth, the churn of the tide, swirled round
the sides of the bay. Tangled sea-wrack rose and
sank again, like the hair of a drowned woman. It
was not a pleasant sight. Then something hit the
bottom of the skiff.

‘“What’s that, Curly, eh ?”

‘“On’y a bit o’ drift ; look, there ’tis. It’s riz up.”
Then for a moment what looked like a man’s arm
covered with wrack shot up and down before it
went under again.

‘“What do ye think on it? Don’t ye feel her
shiver? I shan’t go in the wash up o’ the gullet.
If ye gits a shot ’twill be here, for I ken jist keep
her stem on. Look, what’s that ’ere bobbin’ up and
down?”

“That's a black duck” (Scoter).

“Not that thing, t’other,”—they were Pintails.
“Tl drive her a bit nearer. Can’t get so werry
much closer, else we'll be in the ruck o’ the bile-up.
Now, watch yer chance, git on’em if yer ken, fur
the tide will bring them to us. Can’t git her no
closer, an’ can’t keep her no stiddier.”

Once, twice, the gun was raised, and the finger
almost pulled the trigger; but there was a boil-up
of the waters, and great masses of foam and tangle

hid the birds.
‘Why don’t ye pull? Can’t keep her head on

THE PINTAIL DUCK AND THE SHOVELLER 225

like this much longer, for I can feel the back set 0’
the tide wobblin’. Let go, hit or miss.”

Once more I aimed, and pulled. Just as the
trigger was pressed the skiff rose, and so did the
Pintails. I had shot over them; a clean miss it was.

“What luck ?”

“ None.”

The way that skiff swung round and reached shore
at racing speed was a caution. Some people write
about fowling as if it were bird-slaughter. If they
had known what it is to feel a skiff or punt quiver
under one, and to have to clench one’s teeth to keep
them from chattering, they might have written
differently on fowling matters. Imagination is a
very good horse to ride, if kept under control ;
but when he takes the bit between his teeth and
runs away with his rider, the spectacle affords some-
times a considerable amount of fun for those who
look on.

That handsome duck, the Shoveller, frequents the
marshes and lagoons. Its large bill is formed for
sifting, spattering, and surface-skimming; and
shallow waters with plenty of cover are necessary
for its well-doing. It has been taken in the decoys
during hard weather, as then various species will
mix up, that is, they will for a time follow other
fowl in their fly-lines in order to procure food,
knowing that when fowl go regularly in a certain
direction, at certain times, food is what they go
there for.

Compared with the size of the Shoveller’s weak
Q

226 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

paddles, its webs are small. Splashes and reed-beds
are what it delights in. Many days have I passed
where these birds could be seen, catching the great
green grasshoppers, and getting my fingers pinched
over it, digging out crickets, and chasing Swallow-
tail and other butterflies in and out of the tangles.
All sorts of flying and creeping things lived there ;
in fact the amount of insect life to be found in the
haunts of the Shoveller would have to be seen,
nay, more than that, it would have to be felt, before
it could be thoroughly believed in. Some kinds
of insects have a very short play-time. Coming
forth in clouds as perfect flying creatures, they
fulfil the purpose they were created for, and then
they drop down in the reeds or on the water, either
dead or dying. So thickly at times do these short-
lived insects cover the water that, in places, the
masses look like large patches of grey film.

This is the time for the Shoveller. He and his
mate will, so to speak, lay their heads and necks
on the water, the lower mandible being just under
water; and they will paddle along, feeding as they
go. These insects are part of their food in the
season. Then, too, they can probe and spatter on
the edge of the reeds, where they find plenty of
food, for the soft mud at their roots is full of the
seeds of water-plants growing below. As to the
undeveloped forms of insect life, the light vegetable
mud is full of these. So this handsome fowl goes
on his way very happily if not disturbed; and the
Shovellers were not disturbed in one particular

THE PINTAIL DUCK AND THE SHOVELLER 227

haunt of theirs within a few hundred yards of
the ’coy.

At times, like all other fowl, they flighted, and
then it was that a few pairs would come in with
the ducks and be captured. If fowl once get to
know that they are secure from interruption and
noise, it will take a lot of decoying to make them
at all shy. However, there is a medium in all
things. Shovellers are plump ducks, and when
their food is right are excellent for the table.

THE PINTAIL DUCK.
(Dafila acuta.)

Mate.—Bill black, but the sides under the nos-
trils are pale blue; iris of a reddish-orange; head
and throat dusky brown. On the hind-neck is a
lengthened band of greenish-black, and two white
bands following to the white of the lower parts.
Back and sides finely waved with grey and white ;
the lesser wing coverts grey. Beauty-spot, which is
green and black, is margined in front with red, and
behind with white. The long scapulars velvet
black, edged towards the end with yellowish-white.
Primary quills and coverts are light greyish-brown,
with white shafts. The belly white, faintly waved
with grey. Tail feathers are grey, edged with
yellowish-white, the tint getting deeper towards the
two middle feathers, which are brewnish-black ;
legs and feet greyish-black. Length, from bill to
tail, twenty-five inches.

FemaLe.—Smaller. Bill greyish-black above, red

228 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

brown below ; head and neck light red brown, with
dusky streaks. Upper parts are very dark brown, the
feathers being edged and barred with reddish-white ;
the lower parts reddish-white, with dusky spots.

THE SHOVELLER.
(Spatula clypeata.)

Mate.—Bill black, with a tinge of grey; iris
orange. Head and upper half of neck glossy
green, the top of the head being purple. Fore-part
of cheeks and throat black, slightly glossed with
green; the rest of the neck and small part of the
breast white. Back greenish-black, the feathers on
front part margined with white, while behind they
are darker and more glossed with green. The tail
coverts very bright; tail feathers brownish-grey,
margined with white; the scapulars white, green-
ish-black, and pale blue; the speculum bright green,
margined in front with white. Small wing coverts
light blue ; the primary coverts and quills brownish-
black, shaded with grey, the shafts being white.
The breast, sides, and part of the belly are deep-
chestnut, with a purple tinge ; legs and feet orange.
The length, from bill to tail, is twenty inches.

Fema.Le.—The bill is dusky above, reddish-brown
beneath. Head and upper neck pale reddish, with
dusky streaks; lower neck and breast similar, with
dusky spots. Upper parts blackish-brown, the
feathers edged with reddish-white; the smaller
wing coverts tinged with light blue; the speculum
smaller and duller in tint than that of the male.

CHAPTER XIX
MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY

THE stoutly-built little duck, the Tufted Duck,
isa migrant. At one time within my recollection,
this bird was fairly well distributed in localities
suited to its habits. I cannot say whether at the
present time this is still the case; but one thing is
certain, Suffolk and Norfolk still hold the Tufted
Duck. These counties have water-ways and other
waters which are highly favourable to the species
of duck now under consideration; and they have
another advantage besides, and that is the protec-
tion given to the fowl on the princely estates in this
part of England.

Like all other diving ducks which get the prin-
cipal part of their food from more or less fresh
waters, the Tufted Ducks do not seem to observe
any hard-and-fast rules in such a matter. In hard
weather they visit the tide or tidal waters, and they
are compelled to visit salt waters when the ice binds
up all others. From what I was told by a Norfolk

fowler, a man who was well acquainted with fowl
229

230 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

on the tide, Tufted Ducks must be numerous at
certain seasons. They consisted principally of
females and young birds; at least he had met with
these in considerable numbers, and very wide-awake,
he said, they were.

Numbers of fowl not generally supposed to breed
in this country do nevertheless breed in Norfolk
and Suffolk, where protection is afforded them. It
is quite probable, therefore, that those gatherings
of ‘“ Tufts” may have consisted of home-bred birds,
as, when they are forced to the tide, they have not
far to go. It is to my mind a fortunate thing that
places can still be found where such a bird as this,
which has been briefly noticed, can find itself a
nesting-place. Reeds, and that lush-water vege-
tation which is only to be found in waters where
they have been left as nature placed them, suit
water-fowl. What they like are not the mere
patches of reed, but reed thickets, extending for
mile after mile, the reed-ponds of our eastern
counties.

The Gadwall is a plump-looking bird. At a
distance it might easily be taken for a farm-yard
duck, owing to the general soberness of its plumage.
Gadwall Teal, and Grey are names that it is known
by, and very appropriate is that last - mentioned
name, for the bird looks grey. The last Gadwall
that I examined, away from what might be thought
its proper haunts, was one which had been shot in
a reed and flag-fringed bay of the river Mole, early
in the spring. The bird was shot not two hundred

Turtep Ducx.

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 23)

yards from where I was standing at the time, and
it was brought to me to be identified; there could
not, therefore, be any mistake possible as to its
species. It was a solitary bird, and no companion
to it was seen above or below the place on the
river where it was shot.

Sometimes this bird is captured with other fowl
in the decoys. One peculiarity of the plumage of
the Gadwall or Grey Duck is that delicate, half-
moon-shaped markings are on the breast. It is far
more alert and nimble in its movements than any
tame duck of the farm-yard breed, but the resem-
blance is nevertheless so close at quite a short
distance, that ordinary shooters, keen as some of
them are, have passed them sometimes, thinking
them to be domesticated ducks. Such a mistake
as this does not take place very often, owing not
only to the fact that the Gadwall is what may be
called an uncommon bird, but also to its shyness.

Although this bird is a surface feeder, and not
strictly speaking a diving duck, I have placed it
after the Tufted Duck, because Norfolk is at the
present time its great haunt. In one part of this
county, within quite a short time back—six, or it
may be seven years ago—Gadwalls could be found
in great numbers, as they nested there, owing en-
tirely to the protection they received. Unless some
great and sudden change has taken place of which
I have not heard, no doubt the birds are now far
more numerous than they were a few years ago.
By giving protection to the fowl, we should get them

232 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

nearly all back again. Those that have been almost
exterminated would increase their numbers, if let
alone; and those which have been killed off com-
pletely would be replaced by others of the same
species from those countries whence at rare intervals
they do occasionally arrive, without being allowed
to remain here. Legitimate sport does not exter-
minate fowl. If such shy birds as the Tuft and
Gadwall can be ‘got to stay and breed, other fowl
would do the same in other localities ; but at present
Norfolk and Suffolk are rare instances of what
protection will do for those birds which are else-
where so scarce.

That black-and-white visitor to our shores, the
Golden-Eye, has had many names given to it, differ-
ing according to the various states of plumage in
which it happens to have been procured. Magpie
Diver is the name for the bird when in full plumage,
and it is also called Whistler, Golden-eyed Duck,
Golden-Eye, Pied Wigeon, Gowdy Duck, Morillon,
and Rattle-Wings, the last name having been be-
stowed on the birds because when in flight their
small, sharp-pointed, stiff wings cut the air with a
very peculiar whistling sound. Morillon, or, as is
sometimes said, Morillons, is the name now given to
young birds which were at one time considered to
belong to a different species.

The Golden-Eyes are very active in all their
movements on the water ; they swim very rapidly, and
will dive at the flash of the gun, escaping the shot
sometimes, although by no means invariably. On

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 233

land they are, as one of my friends remarked, ‘not
quite so slippy.” My own acquaintance with this
handsome fowl was made in the creeks running up
from open water; but since that time I have seen
specimens which had been procured well inland. As
the Golden-Eyes are now known to have a preference
for fresh waters in certain localities, their appearance,
one at a time as a rule, on secluded pieces of water,
fringed round with heather and sheltered by fir
trees, is not to be wondered at. Why they should
have been so eagerly sought for by all the gunners
of my native fore-shores I never knew; and I am
quite certain that now I never skal/ know the
reason. But they were thought a great deal of, and
if one of the lads brought the news up “ thet one o’
them Magpie Divers was in the crick,” there was
sure to be a general adjournment of the shooting
members of the community, as each man would slope
off under some pretext or other with the intention
of trying to get the bird.

That rare bird the Buffle-headed Duck, also
called the Marionette, Spirit Duck, and Harlequin
(because of the extreme rapidity of its movements),
is smaller than the Golden-Eye, measuring only
fifteen inches from bill to tail. The general arrange-
ment of the plumage is in black and white, with
deep green and purple reflections. This was the
“Jittle Magpie Diver” of the shooters and fishermen.
I know that he is now considered to be an extremely
rare bird; but judging by the above homely title, I
think the men must have noticed it in past years;

234 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

though, to those afloat, fishing was of far more
interest than all the fowl. Only those fowl which
could be eaten were tried for, just for the sake of
sometimes varying a very limited diet. If a bird
had the bad name of being “a fishy one,” powder
and shot would not be wasted on him. Although
the shooters might know that a Harlequin was about,
yet, so far as they. were concerned, it would not pay
to go in pursuit of it, for it was very certain that all
chances would be in favour of the little Magpie
Diver. Drake Golden-Eyes in full black-and-white
livery I have seen shot, but never at any time the
Harlequin. At one time vast quantities of fowl used
to gather where small fish were captured for manure
only ; tons on tons of fish, which greatly attracted
the fowl. Sometimes, as might naturally have been
expected, a few birds would get meshed in the act
of diving, but not very often did such accidents take
place, as the whole lot were very wide-awake. As
the natural history system of the present day is
carried on in a very different manner to that of the
past, things get much more sharply looked into.
One matter is very certain, there are not now so
many fowl to look at; and if, among the number
there once were, this bird had not been seen and
noticed by the fishers, it would not have had that
title of Magpie Diver given to it.

The Long-tailed Hareld, a handsome and stoutly-
built sea-duck, is a northern visitor. It has been
so well described, from the life, by late writers,
that little is left to be said about it. Its curious

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 235

cries and actions have attracted the attention of all
who have met with it. Men whom I knew in earlier
years, who had sailed in the staunch old luggers,
used to call these birds North Sea Ducks. As the
luggers were often far from land, in rough weather,
for various purposes, and in hard, dead winter, their
crews frequently saw the North Sea Ducks rising up
and sinking with the waves like corks. It must be
desperate weather that will drive this bird inshore
for food and shelter.

Now and then a specimen would be brought home
for one of the local bird preservers ; and this, when
known to be in the window, would cause quite a
sensation in the place, and there would be consider-
able gatherings of spectators off and on for some
little time. Some of the lads knew the history of all
the web-footed fowl in the windows, so far as the
taking of them was concerned. They could tell how
the birds were got, and when ; for their fathers had
procured them.

That heavily-built duck, the Black Scoter, visits us
in the autumn, and leaves our shores for breeding
purposes. Some are seen throughout the year, but
they are not nesting birds. Where the shores are
favourable to the growth of shell fish, there you will
see Scoters on the water. They are very sociable
in their habits ; large flocks of them can be seen in
favourable localities. But there are exceptions, and
I have seen solitary members of this species diving,
without a fowl of any kind to be seen anywhere
near. They are called Black Ducks on the coast,

236 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

and the name is a very good one for them, as,
although not a scientific (szc), it is a comprehensive
one.

As fowl for eating, they can only be described as
fishy abominations. On the tide they are most
interesting studies of diving bird life. Harmless
pranks have been played on unsophisticated people
in the way of offering them gifts of wild-fowl, but
never did I know of an instance when a Black
Scoter formed one of the bunch. There is a line
drawn about some things even on the fore-shores,
and in my day it was never passed where the bird
now under notice was concerned. Now and then
the local bird preservers would set one up, but, as
they said in their forcible though homely fashion,
‘they didn’t hanker after them.”

For a month it has been freezing hard without
break ; not even one day of soft wind have we had.:
Now that the tide is out, the beach, up to water-
mark, is glistening with ice. The piles that run out
from the fore-shore look weird, as ice has formed on
the heavy sea-weed tangles that cling to rotting
piles. They look as if hung with great ice-clubs,
for the drooping weed masses are thicker at the
bottom than they are at the upper ends, where their
roots are fixed in the rotting wood. It is a curious
sight to look on one of those club-shaped icicles
when winkles, crabs, and small fish that have taken
refuge there are frozen in the weed tangle. Bitter
as the weather is, there has not been a rough tide
in the whole course of the month. As the fishers

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK. FAMILY 237

said, ‘‘the hard weather had killed the tide for a
time, the sky was blue as a razor above in the day-
time, an’ dark as a jersey at night. All the time
things kept like that, tides would be easy.” And
as usual they were quite right in their weather
forecast.

Those who know the sands as only coast folks can
know them, are able to travel with safety over them,
even if to casual observers they appear frozen when
the tide is out. Black Ducks are on the water, in a
line with the lightship. So great are their numbers,
that when at times they rise, they look from the
beach like a small patch of dark cloud. To reach
the water-line, that is to say, the utmost limit that
the tide ever ebbs down to, would not be accom-
plished by making a straight line in its direction,
although, to all outward appearance, the sands look
as if you could gallop a horse over them. Having
had varied experiences here of a practical, but by no
means pleasant nature, I take a long “rake” out of
my right course, and come in close to the tide on
winkle hards, not sand. One great stretch of sand,
level as a billiard-table—at least, so it looks from
the distance—I do not even glance at to-day. If
I did, I should see bits of timber—not very big, for
they will soon be fit to burn as fire-drift, without
either sawing or splitting—sticking up and bulging
out of that bit of all-boiling quicksand. Those who
roamed the beach in all weathers, searching for
flotsam and jetsam even in dead winter because
they had nothing better to do, said that “no livin’

238 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

bein’ knowed what them quicks had got smothered
in ’em, nor yet what the tides would root out of
’em.” The speakers were not beach-combers, or
wreckers ; such vermin never existed on my own
fore-shores. These men were the first and foremost
of those who tried to save life if they could, when
the distress flag was flying, or the boom of the
signal-gun was heard, and they were grieved when
their efforts proved of no avail.

Boards, firmly fixed in the beach shingle, and
with inscriptions beautifully written on them by the
same skilled hand which wrote the new tablets of
the Ten Commandments in the old church, fair and
plain for all to see and read, explained the rights of
the Lord of the Fore-shores. These rights were
never claimed in my days on the tide; I do not go
so far as to say they never had any real legal exist-
ence, I merely state that, such as the rights then
were, they were not claimed. The “ perwentive
men” looked after the spirituous flotsam and jetsam
which might come ashore by deep intention or by
sheer accident, as anchored tubs would not always
keep their grappling ground in a storm. The whole
lot smuggled, big and little, rich and poor, whenever
the chance offered, her Gracious Majesty’s revenue
officers excepted. Such things are of course not
supposed to be done at the present day.

The only time that I ever heard the rights of the
fore-shore mentioned, was when liquor in some shape
or way was washed up. Any man—or, for the
matter of that, any lad—was free to shoot unques-

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 239

tioned, from the boundary of the sea-wall over the
saltings to the lowest ebb of the tide. The marshes
that the sea-wall protected were, so to speak, private
property, and this fact was known and respected.
On the beach itself you could shoot unquestioned
from highest water-mark to lowest tide, and over the
tide. The marsh laws were strict ones, and, if
necessary, they were fought out. Not that in all
cases might was right, or even that right invariably
proved to be might, but all who wilfully trespassed
on the marshes knew what they would have to put
up with if caught without a permit to be there. It
was exactly the same with the oyster-beds, or, as
they were called, oyster-grounds. There they were,
and there they could be seen at low tide, but they
were only there for their owners. One who did not
know better—at least he said he did not when he
found himself captured—gained the knowledge of
what sea-boots leather tasted like, before his captors
parted with him. As I saw that sea-boots perform-
ance through from beginning to end, I can safely
say that, if my eyesight can at all be trusted, it must
have been a very powerful and convincing perform-
ance, though scarcely pleasant for all who were
concerned in it.

With the two exceptions I have mentioned of the
marshes and the oyster-grounds, the whole of the
beach and fore-shores beyond the sea-wall boundary
was free to the shore-shooters for a range extending
from Romney Marsh to within a short distance of
London town. All this is now altered, or rather

240 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

it may be said that certain people are trying to alter
it. I have seen some account of this in the public
papers ; but all I can say is, that such a state of
things would have been considered utterly impossible
in the days when I fowled on and by the tide. In
fact, at that time it would have been an impossibility
for one man to deny another the rights of the
fore-shores, as these rights had been in full use for
a period which could not be reckoned, beyond the
memories of the oldest men.

As the Lord of the Fore-shores had a right to fix
notice-boards on his own behalf, there must have
been also other common rights which belonged to
the people on the fore-shores, and certain matters
“pertaining thereto” which were their own, or they
would not have been allowed to exercise such rights
for so long a period. The more so as the Lords of
Manors and Fore-shores in past times were apt to
assert the difference between their rights and views
of what they thought to be their rights, and the
rights and opinions of others, in a somewhat high-
handed manner.

This little digression over, let us return to our
Scoters, or Black Ducks; there they are, diving and
chasing each other. It is bitterly cold, and the sea
is quite calm, as smooth as a mill-pond. The birds
appear to be within shot, but it would be a delusion
to think them so; a rifle might reach them, but they
are out of all duck-gun range ; and this is owing to
the intensely dry and rarefied state of the air. As
to the sky above, it is of such a hard, steely blue

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 241

that it gives you the shivers to look up at it. The
ducks are, to my certain knowledge, over capital
feeding-grounds, as the greater part of the shell-fish
of various kinds that are used for manure in the
great upland fields are dredged for just where they
now are. It is a long way from this bleak fore-shore
to fir and heather, but somehow the Scoters, when
they rise, remind me of the Black Grouse.

There is a very old but very true saying, that
time and tide wait for no man, and indeed my
observations are here brought to a rapid close, for
suddenly I notice that the tide has turned. That
is quite enough to induce me to make for the beach
at top speed ; but I do not lose sight of the Scoters,
as they come in with the tide, feeding while they
float in with,it. Fowl are capricious in their move-
ments, or perhaps it would be more just to say that
they appear to be so to those who watch them
gathering in great numbers, under certain atmo-
spheric influences, and when things alter a bit,
going off again no man knoweth whither. As the
fowls may be supposed to know their own minds,
while those who watch them cannot fathom their
secret, many of their movements and actions at
times remain to us a mystery.

When I reached a bend in the shore, I met a
shooter, who told me that the Black Scoters were
quite as numerous, although more scattered, under
the garrison and dockyard walls. He only wished,
he said, that they were Black Geese (or Brents), as

Black Ducks were no good, “not worth powder and
R

242 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

shot.” Not because I doubted his word, but simply
to gratify my own curiosity, | made my way past
Garrison Point to the Camber, where the Admiral’s
flag-ship, H.M.S. Queen, was stationed. A little
way out, and abreast of it, there lay a mighty three-
decker, carrying one hundred and twenty guns.
Those sailing, first-rate ships of the line were as
grand a sight as an Englishman could possibly look
upon, and I have lived to see them pass from our
navy. A case of necessity it may have been, but
men now living who have seen them, and perhaps
wondered when they were children at the glorious
sight—who have, it might almost be said, taken in
with their mother’s milk the histories and traditions
of those famous fighting ships, miss them now that
they are gone from the seas. ‘‘ Brown Bess” has
given place to the modern rifle, with all the latest
improvements, and the old wooden men-o’-war
ships are replaced by ironclad 7hunderers and
Devastations.

There were the Black Ducks, numbers of them,
round about the shipping. Ships in harbour, if the
coast is at all favourable for fowl, generally have
a few gather about them for the sake of the refuse
or slush that is shot into the tide. Some fowl
were sure to be about, on account of the refuse
food from the different messes that was sent over-
board. Gulls prove very constant visitors, beating
about all day long, and in all sorts of weather. But
their reasons are obvious. When the Scoters come
in, as | saw them that day, the true reason of their

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 243

arrival is known to themselves alone, and mere conjec-
tures on the matter are of no use, even fora moment.

The Velvet Scoters visit us at the latter end of
autumn, and leave us again in the spring. In their
general habits they are like the Common Black
Scoters. I have seen statements, founded on ob-
servations made in past times, that they gathered
in vast numbers on the northern coasts of our islands
fifty-three years ago, but if such is still the case |
am unable to say. From what information I have
been able to gather, I think that the Velvet Scoters
are not quite so numerous in certain old haunts as
they once were.

This bird, if it was seen flying inland, might at
the first glance be very easily taken for a Blackcock
in full plumage, the white patch on the wing adding
wonderfully to the general resemblance to that bird
when on flight. As a feathered curiosity, the
Velvet Scoter is sometimes in request ; but for eat-
ing it is no better than its common relative, the
Black Scoter. It is caught in nets very often, and
goes for preserving.

There is a third species of Scoter, the Surf Duck
or Great-billed Scoter, which belongs to the eastern
coasts of North America. From thence, and no
doubt from other cold regions also, the few speci-
mens (properly authenticated specimens I mean)
which have been procured on the coasts of the
United Kingdom have presumably found their way
to us, some of them to be shot, and one or two

to be picked up.

244 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

Not that much importance is to be attached to
very, very rare British specimens, so called. Some
birds I have been asked to look at have had
mysterious histories, but of course I did not say
so to their owners, who had paid for the birds and
were happy in their possession ; it was not my place
to rudely enlighten them. One thing is certain, if
rare birds are wanted they generally arrive in this
country by some means or other, whether alive or
dead. Not for one single moment do I wish to
give any of my readers the impression that genuine,
rare specimens of birds shot in the British Islands
cannot be found. They can be found. But there
are tricks in all trades, and that of providing natural
history specimens for collectors is no exception to
the general rule.

That heavily-built sea-duck, the Common Eider,
is abundant in northern lands; in Iceland, for in-
stance, and Labrador, Sweden, and Norway. It is
fairly numerous along the shores of Scotland, among
the Hebrides, Orkney Islands, the island of Shetland,
and the Outer Hebrides; and, nearer home, they
frequent the Bass Rock and the Fern, or, as they
are more often called, the Farne Islands, where they
breed, having at one time been protected in the
nesting season through coast laws which, although
not legislative ones, were effectual protection to the
Eider in her breeding season, the birds being looked
upon as half-domesticated fowl. I am not able to
state whether such is now the case, as matters have
changed in all directions of late years. There is

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 245

nothing remarkable in the tameness of the sitting
duck. Not only Eiders, but other birds of naturally
wild and suspicious nature, have allowed themselves
to be lifted off their nests, and placed back again
when hatching out their eggs.

A pair of these birds make a very good show in
a glass case if well set up. Specimens for preserv-
ing are generally shot on open waters far out at
sea, by those who hire the stout North Sea boats
for fowling on the tide in rough weather. With
the eider-down question I have nothing to do, be-
yond hazarding the remark that if all the so-called
quilts advertised for the benefit of a shivering
public are eider-down, the birds must grow it on
their bodies in immense quantities. The swallow-
ing capacity of the Eider is something to wonder
at, especially if the bird happens to have been shot
after a full feed of crabs and other small fry. As
fowl are generally carried head downwards be-
cause the feet are so convenient for gripping, the
cargo they have packed breaks bulk again. From
the nature of their food they are not particularly
sought after as birds for the table.

When the young Eiders are on the water, their
mother’s chief care is to watch for the Black-backed
Gulls of both species ; not, however, that the greater
and lesser Cobs persecute the Eiders more than other
fowl. I have seen some of their work; size is not
of the least consequence to them, as all young birds
are sure to be tender. The young of all coast birds,
and sometimes the parents themselves, suffer from

246 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

those black-backed killers. Either they get knocked
off by the Gulls’ wings, when sitting out on the
rock-ledges, and followed down by their oppressor
to where they may fall, or else they are killed and
eaten at their very nesting-places. Now the young
Cobs may chance to come to grief—but not, I think,
very often—from the interference of feathered
enemies. It seems a fortunate thing for the diving
ducks that such rapacious birds as the Gulls are
not able to dive. They can only float about, or,
as one might say, paddle on the water, light as corks.

Thirty-nine years ago, a female Eider was shot
ona Surrey moor, having been driven that way by
a fierce gale of wind; and in 1893 I sawa Puffin
picked up alive in the same district.

THE TUFTED DUCK.

ulicula cristata
Fuligula crist

Ma.e.— The bill light greyish-blue; the nail
black ; iris bright yellow. Head and upper part of
neck black, with purple and green reflections. The
general colour of the upper parts is blackish-brown,
sprinkled with minute white dots. The breast and
sides are white; a portion of the belly is greyish-
white, mottled with dusky, in waved lines. The hind-
part of the belly and the lower tail coverts are
brownish-black, and there is a white band on the
wing. Legs and feet are bluish-grey, and the webs
dusky. The length, from bill to tail, is seventeen
inches,

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 247

FEMALE.—Smaller than the male, but coloured in
a similar manner.

THE GADWALL.

(Anas strepera.)

Mate.—The bill black, tinged towards the base
with bluish-grey ; iris red brown. Upper part of
head and nape dusky, with small red brown markings.
Lower neck all round, and part of back, dusky, with
semi-circular white lines; middle of back, scapulars,
and sides finely waved with dusky grey and reddish-
white. Smaller wing coverts grey, barred with pale
reddish; middle coverts deep chestnut red. The
speculum, or beauty-spot, black and white ; hind-part
of back and tail coverts bluish-black ; tail grey ;
legs and feet orange, the webs darker. Length, from
bill to end of tail, twenty-one inches.

FemaLe.—Upper part of the head dusky, ni: a
lightish streak over the eye. The upper parts
blackish-brown, the feathers edged with reddish.
The lower parts reddish, marked with grey.

THE GOLDEN-EYE.
(Clangula glaucion.)

Mate.—The bill black; iris yellow. The head
and upper neck deep glossy green, with rich purple
reflections. A large white spot on each side between
the cheeks and the bill, below the level of the eye.
The back and some of the scapulars are black ; the
outer scapulars white, with black margins ; tail dark

248 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

brown, tinged with grey. The lower neck all round,
the breast, fore-part of belly, sides, and lower tail
coverts white. Wings black, with a large white
patch which includes several of the small coverts,
secondary coverts, and some of the secondary quills.
Legs and feet orange yellow, the webs being dusky.
Length, from bill to tail, nineteen inches.

Fema.e. — Bill brown; head and upper neck
dull reddish-brown ; the lower neck grey. Upper
parts dark grey behind, lighter in front; lower
parts white, with the sides and part of the belly
brownish-grey. Legs and feet brownish-yellow.
Length, from bill to tail, sixteen inches.

LONG-TAILED HARELD.
(Harelda glacial.)

‘Mare.—Bill black at base, red towards the end,
the red tinged with lake; the nail black. Head and
neck white; the cheeks grey; a black-and-brown
patch on each side of the neck. The fore-part of
_ the breast, back, wing coverts, and lengthened tail
.feathers blackish-brown ; quills dark brown; scapu-
lars and lower parts white. Tail feathers chiefly
white, middle tail feathers slightly turned up. Legs
and feet yellow; membranes dusky. Length, from
bill to tail, twenty-five inches.

Femate. — Bill blue grey; iris yellow. Head
and nape chocolate brown; throat a lighter brown.
Sides of head and neck, band over the eye, and
part of hind-neck greyish-white ; a brown patch

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 249

behind the cheek. All the upper parts chocolate
brown of a greyish cast. On lower part of neck all
round the feathers are grey brown, with paler edges.
Lower parts white, with part of the sides grey brown.
Legs and feet grey green. Length, from bill to tail,
sixteen inches.

THE BLACK SCOTER.
(Zdemia nigra.)

Mate.—Bill black, with a patch of orange yellow
on the upper mandible. Upper plumage deep black,
tinged with green; lower parts brownish-black.
Iris dusky; legs and feet brownish-black; the
membranes darker. Length, from bill to tail,
nineteen inches.

Fremate.—Bill dusky ; upper parts sooty brown ;
sides of head and neck paler. The lower part of
the neck, the breast, and the belly greyish-brown.
Length, from bill to tail, eighteen inches.

THE VELVET SCOTER.
(Qdemia fusca.)

Ma.re.—The prominence on the upper basal part
of the bill, the nostrils, part of the lateral pro-
minences, the margins of the upper mandible, and
a streak on each side of the nail black. The sides
rich orange; the nail and part of the ridge reddish
flesh colour; basal half of lower mandible black,
the rest lake red. The general plumage black, with

250 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

violet reflections on the head and neck, and, on
the back, green and blue; on the wing is a large
patch of white. The legs and feet are richly
coloured with rich orange and lake ; webs brownish-
black. Iris greyish-white, with a dusky outside
ring. Length, from bill to tail, twenty-one inches.

FrmaLe.—The basal prominences less in size.
General colour of upper parts brownish-black ;
lower parts lighter. Legs and feet like the male,
but duller. A patch of white on the wing. Length,
twenty-one inches,

THE SURF SCOTER.
(Qdemia perspicillata.)

Ma.r.—The upper mandible is orange red, with
the nail greyish-yellow; on the protuberance of
each side at the base a large square patch of
black, margined with orange red, except in front,
where there is a patch of greyish-white ; the lower
mandible flesh-coloured. On the top of the head
is a roundish patch of white; on the hind-neck a
larger lengthened patch of the same. Upper
plumage deep black, glossed with blue, lighter
below ; iris yellowish-white; legs and feet orange
red, webs dusky. Length, from bill to tail, twenty
inches.

FremaLe.—The base of the bill less protuberant ;
colour, greenish-black. General colour of plumage
brownish-black above, lighter below. Legs and
feet yellowish-orange. Length, from bill to tail,
nineteen inches.

MORE OF THE WILD DUCK FAMILY 251

THE EIDER DUCK.

(Somateria mollissima.)

Mate.—Frontal angles of bill narrow, fleshy,
and slightly elevated. The rough basal part of the
upper mandible is oil green, the rest bluish-grey,
with a tinge of green; the nail yellowish-grey ;
iris deep brown. Head black above, with a middle
white band; hind-part of cheeks and nape pale
green ; fore-neck cream-coloured. Hind-neck, back,
scapulars, smaller wing coverts, and inner secondary
quills white ; breast, sides, belly, and rump black ;
feet oil green; membranes pale greenish-brown.
Length, from bill to end of tail, twenty-six inches.

FemaLe.—Head and neck pale reddish-brown,
streaked with dusky; upper parts dark brown,
marked with light red; lower parts reddish brown,
with dusky markings. Length, to end of tail,
twenty-four inches.

CHAPTER XX
THE GOOSANDER AND THE PIED SMEW

Tuat fine, handsome bird, the Buff-breasted
Goosander, which is also known as the Dun Diver,
Saw-Bill, and Jack-Saw, was found breeding in the
year 1840 beside some of the larger lakes of the
northern isles. It has also been found occasionally
by the sea, one locality being near Loch Maddy in
North Uist, This bird reaches us from other
countries in October, or early in November, and
returns northwards by the end of April.

Saw-Bill is a good name for this Goosander, as a
fish, when once caught by it, has not the smallest
chance of escape, and might just as well be in a
pike’s mouth. Sea-fowl follow their food-supplies,
and distance never wearies them, because the water
alone, that is to say, the set of the currents, carries
them hundreds of miles without their finding the
necessity for even once rising on the wing. Their
food teems on all sides of them, the surface of the
waters boiling up with fish which are just the right
size for their gullets. As one of my fisher friends

remarked, ‘‘ The waters stink alive with fish o' one
252

THE GOOSANDER AND THE PIED SMEW 253

sort an’ tother”; and this is during the winter
months, when the fowl visit us. So very surely do
the fish-eating divers indicate the presence of vast
shoals of finny wealth, that the boats make for
where they are at work, the fishers knowing that by
so doing they are certain to get rare hauls.

Only those who have had the good fortune to
witness such sights can answer as to how close, how
very close, divers of all kinds will come to the fishing-
boats on some of the secluded parts of the coast
which are still left to us. The muck—that is, what
‘in the opinion of the crew are worthless fish—is
tossed overboard in great heaps. That is the time
to see the fowl come for the net shakings or scour-
ings} food is there for them merely for the picking
up, they have not got to work for it. I have seen
these Buff-breasted Goosanders brought in by the
boats, but young birds and females were far more
numerous among them than the full-plumaged drakes.
Even these, however, were not considered rarities.

There is one very great mistake which is frequently
made by those whoat the present time go after fowl,
and that is, the influences of weather and the ques-
tion of what the birds feed on are not matters which
are very much thought about; and it is of course
necessary that they should be considered. The fowl
are driven to some places much against their will,
but leave them again as soon as they can. There
is not the least reason to fear the extermination
of wild-fowl. Days have been spent by a man who
had no one-to control or hinder him in the fruitless

254 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

attempt to get on close terms with a full-plumaged
drake, but all to no purpose. Two days after the
attempt had been given up as hopeless, that very
same bird got itself meshed in a fishing-net in the
most obliging manner and was drowned. When the
net was hauled in “he cum aboord.” It has now
become the fashion for birds to be rare, and thus
large prices can be asked for specimens of the most
common species.

The Red-breasted Merganser, Goosander, or
Earl Duck has been found breeding in some parts
of Great Britain, but I refrain for very good reasons
from mentioning the names of such places. Scot-
land and Ireland, as might naturally be expected,
are more favoured by this species than are English
waters on the southern coast, and a full-plumaged
bird may be considered rare, although northwards it
is not thought uncommon. It is very nimble in its
movements, and to get the chance of seeing it you
must go to places which are, as a rule, most carefully
avoided by all but genuine sea-dogs, on account of
the sand-bars. Those who have gone through the
race or cut of a dangerous bar need not be told what
it is like, they know well that the sooner one is out
of it the better. One sketch will be enough.

‘“Not a damned bunch o’ feathers among the lot
on us, an’ we left port at sunrise. I don’t like the
notion o’ beatin’ roun’ the bar. ’Tis a long sail, an’ a
dirty one twill be if we wentures it, an’ no mistake,
if I reckins right the tide’s makin’. Shall us foorce
through the cut? What says the crew o’ this ’ere

THE GOOSANDER AND THE PIED SMEW 255

craft? I be only one among ye. Whichever ‘tis
to be must be settled quick one way or t’other, if we
wants this cruise to end well. ’Tis middlin’ smooth
as yit at the mouth on it. But not for long it wun’t
be. Look at the rib o’ that unfortunate craft stickin’
up, an’ there’s another just showed ; she’s broke up to
match splinters—see ’em wiggle ? The bar feels the
tide, look at it bilin’ at the mouth. Now then, out
with it, through or round? Through! All right,
my lads, we all fares alike, sink or swim.”

Peering like a cormorant, first on one side and
then on the other, the man appeared to be listening
intently. Then he said-—

“The tide’s racin’ through the cut. Here she goes.”

It would be quite useless to attempt to describe
on paper what that passage through the cut was
like. No one spoke a word. There sat our old sea-
dog grasping the tiller, and, had it not been for the
glitter in his eyes, he might very reasonably have
been taken for a stuffed scarecrow.

“Never more,” thought one member of that crew ;
“if this adventure turns out well, all’s well, but it
is one to end with,” for it was a creepy experience,
with the boiling waters below and the live sands
above, and the hiss of it all.

“Hold fast!” roared the skipper, and then there
was a grating rishe, rishe, rishe, and a bump.
“Cleared!” he roared; ‘‘stick tight.” We were
going at a rare rate.

Another long rishe, rishe. The bow of the boat
rose, pitched again, and once more rose. Then we

256 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

shot out into open water. We had cleared the cut
of the bar.

Immature birds belonging to this species, that of
the Red-breasted Goosander, are more frequently to
be met with than would be thought probable: by
some people. But it must be remembered that it is
impossible to ascribe limits to the range of fowl, and
that much confusion has been caused in former
years by classing, in different localities, the young of
different species, as well as the adults in different
states of plumage, under one comprehensive heading
of Sprat Loons, Dun Divers, or Sprat Divers. This
is not surprising, as on the water the fowl swim low,
and at a little distance off, from the deck of a vessel
or from an open boat, all these species look much
alike, and also of one colour, grey and white.

The small Merganser, known as the Hooded
Merganser, belongs, properly speaking, to North
America, but occasionally it is seen off the coast of
Ireland. So-called English-killed specimens have,.
it is true, been looked on with suspicion, But it
must be remembered that even those naturalists who
pose as great authorities do not shoot all the rare
birds which are to be found in their collections, and
as this bird has at different times reached Scotland,
what should prevent it from coming a little further
south during hard white weather ?

The last Hooded Merganser drake which I ex-
amined had been shot not far from the coast-lines of
the borders. The owner did not even know what
the bird was, and he had not the least suspicion that

THE GOOSANDER AND THE PIED SMEW 237

I was interested in bird matters. He simply said
that a friend of his in the north had shot the curious
bird, stuffed it, and sent it south for him. Upon my
venturing to remark that the setting-up might have
been better done, I was told that the man who had
sent the bird was, to be sure, a home-spun stuffer ;
but there it was.

The Smew is the smallest member of the family
to which it belongs, and it is also the least numerous
compared with its relatives. On the southern and
eastern coasts Smews are found at times in consider-
able numbers, which chiefly consist of the females or
young birds. The full-plumaged black-and-white
drake Smews are rarely to be procured, as they keep
well out at sea.

This beautiful bird is extremely active both when
on the wing and when diving. It has various local
names, such as White Nun, Pied Diver, Vare
Wigeon, White Wigeon, and Weasel-headed Wigeon.
The last-mentioned title has been bestowed upon it
because the clean-cut, red-tinted heads of the females
and the immature birds, together with their bright
eyes and general perkiness, reminded some of the
shore-dwellers of the weasel.

It is a well-known fact that, with the commoner
species of fowl, full-plumaged specimens are not
easy to get. As regards the bird under notice, it
is at times almost impossible to get one in full
plumage on the waters that surround our coast-lines.
Northern specimens can of course be procured

in adult breeding plumage without difficulty, but
Ss

258 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

British specimens of such birds are not easy to
get.

THE BUFF-BREASTED GOOSANDER.
(Mergus merganser.)

Mazt.—The bill vermilion; the nail black; iris
bright red. The head and upper half of the neck
black, with green and purple reflections. Lower
part of neck white behind; its front part, and the
whole lower surface and side of the body, a delicate
reddish-buff or light salmon colour. The fore-part
of the back and inner scapulars black; the hind-
part ash grey, waved on the sides of the rump;
the tail ash grey, with black shafts. The outer
scapulars are white, hiding a band of black, margin-
ing the wing and crossing its base. Wing coverts
white ; outer secondaries black at the base, forming
a bar across part of the wing; quills blackish-
brown, tinged with grey on the inner webs; legs
and feet vermilion. Length, from bill to tail,
twenty-six inches.

FemaLe.—Has a longer and more slender crest
than the male. Head and upper neck light reddish-
brown; upper parts deep ash-grey. The throat
whitish ; lower neck pale grey, the feathers edged
with white; breast and belly white; the sides
grey. Some of the secondary quills and their
coverts white. The bill and feet duller than in the
male. Length, from bill to tail, twenty-four inches.

Young birds, similar in colouring to the female.

THE GOOSANDER AND THE PIED SMEW — 259

THE RED-BREASTED GOOSANDER.

(Mergus serrator.)

Mate.—The bill rich vermilion ; the nail yellow-
ish-grey ; iris blood red; the head and upper neck
greenish-black. Two tufts of the lengthened crest
project from the rest. Back black before, grey
with dusky lines behind. The middle fore-neck
light red, streaked with dusky colour; breast and
belly pure white. A tuft of large feathers before
the shoulder-joint white, with broad black margins.
A white patch on the wing, and two black bands.
Legs and feet deep vermilion. Length, from bill
to tail, twenty-five inches.

FremaLe.—The head, hind-part, and sides of neck
half-way down light reddish-brown; throat grey-
ish-white. Lower part of neck, all round, greyish-
brown, the front feathers tipped with white; rest
of lower parts pure white; upper parts brownish-
grey, the feathers edged wth grey. Small wing
coverts grey, without the white patch seen in the
male; quills brownish-black. One dark band on
the wing. Bill and feet paler than in the male.
Length, from bill to tail, twenty-three inches.

THE HOODED GOOSANDER.
(Mergus cucullatus.)

Mare.—The bill black; nail whitish; iris
yellow; upper part of head black. A large patch
of white on each side behind the eye, showing

260 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

conspicuously when the crest is raised. The rest
of the head, half-way down the neck, two bands
before the wings, and hind-part of neck greenish-
black. Upper parts of body brownish-black ; tail
greyish-black ; smaller wing coverts partly grey ;
primary quills and coverts brownish-black ; outer
secondary quills and coverts greenish-black, white
towards the end; the inner white, with black
margins. Lower parts white; the sides finely
waved with yellowish-brown and brownish-black.
Legs and feet dull yellowish-red. Length, from
bill to end of tail, nineteen inches.

FremaLe.—The crest smaller; upper part of head
reddish-brown; cheeks and upper neck brownish-
grey; back blackish-brown ; throat greyish-white ;
lower part of neck grey. Lower parts greyish-
white; the sides dusky brown. The wings with-
out white on the inner secondaries. Length, from
bill to tail, seventeen inches.

PIED SMEW.
(Mergus albellus.)

Mate.—The bill greyish-blue ; iris bright red ;
the lengthened feathers on the head and nape
white. A broad patch on the fore-part of the
cheek and a band along the side of the occiput
greenish-black. The back is black, shading into
grey behind ; neck, scapulars, smaller wing coverts,
and lower parts white. Some of the scapulars are
edged with black ; there is a black line on each side

THE GOOSANDER AND THE PIED SMEW 261

before the wing. Primary quills and coverts brown-
ish-black ; secondary quills and coverts black, tipped
with white. Legs and feet light greyish-blue, the
webs dusky. Length, from bill to end of tail, seven-
teen inches.

Fremae.—The crest shorter; the bill pale blue ;
iris red. Upper part of head and hind-neck brown-
ish-red half-way down; fore-part of cheek reddish-
black ; its hind-part brown. Throat white for half
its length; lower neck, all round, ash grey ; lower
parts white; the sides ash grey. Middle of back
greyish-black ; hind-part, scapulars, and tail grey.
The wings as the male’s, but without the dark-
coloured smaller coverts; legs and feet greenish-
blue. Length, from bill to tail, sixteen inches.

CHAPTER XXI
THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS

Tue Wigeon is a beautiful bird, and at the
present time it visits the southern parts of England
in great numbers. Colonel Montagu states that at
the time he wrote, the Wigeon was taken in the
decoys in greater abundance than any other species
of duck. In the decoys of Somersetshire and Devon-
shire more Wigeon were caught than Duck, Teal,
and all other fowl put together.

One of the most expert fowlers, having a fowling-
punt and gun of the day, and being moreover a
most observant naturalist, states in one of his works
on the subject, that what deer are to the deer-stalker
the Wigeon are to the fowler. These birds are
grass-feeders, feeding on both meadow and sea-grass
by day when the chance offers, and at night when
circumstances compel them to do so, being able like
other creatures to adapt themselves to their sur-
roundings. One sketch of the Wigeon’s favourite
feeding-flats let me give.

The tide has gone out, leaving a wide mid-channel
of deep water, which at its narrowest part is more than

a mile in width. On my side lies a mile and a half
262

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 263

of wet marsh and slub ooze, the latter being covered
with sea-grass (Zostera marina). On the opposite
shore the slub and drowned marshes are more ex-
tensive. Looked at from the rising grounds above,
there seems a bewildering network of mud-flats,
sand-bars, and water-channels. Even when the tide
is out there is plenty of water left, and the great
pools here and there are as large as mill-ponds.
Not only does the whole district smell unwhole-
somely, suggesting fevers and ague, but it also con-
tains more death-traps in the way of ooze-quakes
and shifting sands than any place which is known to
me. None but the fowlers and fishermen can work
in and out of those dangerous channels and gripes,
alternated with sand-bars and sandy ooze, and where
grass covers the ooze nearest inshore, beyond it is
mud pure and simple.

Hundreds of fowl may be on one side of a sand-
bar, while on the other your flat punt creeps along,
but never a bird will fall to your share, unless indeed
they should rise and come over, a very unlikely
chance, as they are feeding busily.

There is a cut through that sand-bar, a winding
cut which divides it as a ditch divides a double
hedge, and it is to all appearance as calm at the
opening as is the water in a pond after rain. But
this appearance of calm is fearfully deceptive. The
water comes from the main channel. Once get fairly
into that cut through the bar, and you will be shot
out at the other end, utterly shipwrecked, food for
the hungry crabs.

264 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

In such sanctuaries rest the divers. This com-
prehensive term includes Mergansers, Grebes, and
the divers proper. As sprats are found here in enor-
mous quantities, while smelts, shrimps, and flat-fish
also abound, the class of birds feeding solely on fish,
in some shape or other, congregate here, where their
food can be procured in great quantities and in the
easiest manner. When fowl have to work hard for
their food they become thin and tough. No one,
however, unless he were very unsophisticated, would
venture to try culinary experiments on a diver.

Hosts of waders frequent these flats, slubs, and
sands; clouds, trips, and mobs of birds, all very
wide-awake, and, as far as the sense of self-preserv-
ation goes, very highly educated. They know, even
if they are busily feeding, exactly how far they
mean to let your punt creep up towards them, and
when they rise they will not come in your direction.
I have once or twice filled my shooting-pockets, but
have only been able to get the birds either singly
or by couples, the greatest number that ever fell to
the shot being four, and this was when they came
spinning along the lap of the tide.

The birds look at a distance quite a dense mass.
Any one unused to them would expect it to be as
easy to drop at least a dozen as it would be to shoot
into a barn with the doors wide open. I have
known people holding such an opinion to be taken
out on purpose that they might have a chance of
proving its truth, and yet never all through the day
have they been able to drop a single bird. Even a

THE WIGEQN AND POCHARDS 265

good shot will sometimes miss clean ; and indeed it
would be a bit rough on fowl generally if his shots
invariably told. The duffer, strange to say, never
misses. Such at least is the tale he tells his friends,
and they spread the story after he has shown them
the fowl he has, in reality, bought.

Some folks I know have been under the impres-
sion that in order to have good sport among the
fowl it is only necessary to read up on the subject,
take a double punt and engage one of the numerous
water-side dwellers to pilot them ; and those who
have availed themselves of the means just referred
to have been rowed up and down dirty, stinking
channels, which, but they did not know it, were only
used for coal-barges. They had paid well, but to
my knowledge they never got so much as a Dunlin
(Ox-bird). However, the Munchausen yarns that
were told them about fowl, to keep them from shiver-
ing, were really worth the money. Of course the man
who rowed them up and down was warm enough,
and the lookers-on from the sea-wall kept themselves
warm by laughing. When the amateur fowlers got
on shore for comfort, how kindly did that party on
the wall condole with them and offer advice, being
in return generously “ liquored up.”

‘If they would only stop to flight-time (the dusk),
they would drive some over to them.”

The victims believed these promises and did stay,
and the lookers-on laughed more than ever. The
fowl did not show and the cold was bitter. Once
more they got on shore, called for something

266 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

extremely hot, and left for the station escorted by
friends and admirers still condoling with them and
giving advice, this time free of cost.

A fowler or a fowler’s puntsman never has dealings
with such people ; he simply scorns them and their
money too. But prowlers and combers can be found
on most fore-shores, and to wait on such would be
an experience such as I have sketched. Men have
left places where thousands of Wigeon alone, to say
nothing of other fowl, fed at each ebb-tide, and told
their friends that not one bird of any kind had they
seen. They had not seen them for the excellent
reason that it had not been intended that they should.
One of my oldest friends when he was living, used
to say that “a fool aboord a boat was a wusser 0’ a
cargo, and some on ’em ashore was wuss still.”

In the day-time the Wigeon were out at sea, like
the ducks coming in to feed on the sea-grass at
dusk, night, or in the grey of the morning, according
as the tide suited. If the weather were fair, flight-
ing and punt-creeping answered, as when food was
being easily got at very little noise moved the birds.
Noise was never intentionally made, but accidents,
such as a punt getting aground, will sometimes take
place in spite of all precautions. They well know
what that grinding hiss means. Or perhaps a paddle
will hit the sides of the punt, such things do and will
occur. You may feel happy in the fancy that for
once all will go quite right. The punt as you paddle
is just below the ooze-level, and the birds are pretty
close ; you can hear them mew and purr. The mud-

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 267

pattens are ready, no time is to be lost on cripples ;
“the dead are dead, but cripples are lively,” all
fowlers know that saying. Your heavy shoulder
duck-gun is over the bows of the punt, you are lying
at the bottom of it flat on your breast. ‘It cannot
be less than four,” you fancy, ‘“ let the worst come.”

Your legs are cramped in that humble position.
You move one of them a very little, and your hecl
just hooks off one of those mud-pattens. Down
it rattles, and you have spoilt not only your own
chance but that of others. Plenty of food and fair
weather cause the fowl to “‘ feed picksome,” as it is
called; in other words, not being hungry they are
on the alert. You may see flashes and hear guns
from other fowlers, hid up much nearer to you
than you would have suspected; but they are all
flight-shots, some of them being to very good pur-
pose, for flop! flop! flop! can be heard, as they fall
down on the ooze. The best thing for you to do
is to paddle your way out and go home, miserably
conscious that you have managed, although uninten-
tionally, to wake up the flats for this tide.

Fair shots on the ooze confuse fowl, but any
mishap such as has just been described alarms
them. The reader must distinctly understand that
I am describing the ways and means of local
fowlers, who have their punts made to suit their own
notions ; most of them, in fact, being home-made,
and the long, heavy shoulder-guns are temporarily
rigged up as punt-guns. Plenty of fowl are killed
at the present time in this way by some of the

268 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

marsh-men; their accurate knowledge of the fowls’
habits and the localities they frequent making up
for the want of large guns. If the magnificent
productions of the boat-builder and the gun-maker
help to produce generous results in the way of fowl
(I need not enter into this matter at length, as all
fowlers will at once know my meaning) all will go
well, and the crew of that punt will make friends ;
and this will be a good thing, as high-handed pro-
ceedings do not answer with the marsh-men. As
regards steam-launches for fowling, want of space
and lack of suitable language forbid such a subject
being dwelt upon.

Out on the open water weather is rough, and
there is a general state of high-water and of rivers
full to the brim, the salt water keeping back the
fresh. ‘‘ Drownded mashes,” for miles, are the con-
sequence. All the sprat, oyster, and shrimping
crafts are at their moorings, and some of the
fowling-punts are drawn up in their owners’ gardens,
while the salt water lips the front-door sills. This
state of affairs has lasted three days, and the whole
of that time the flats have been under water even
with the tide at ebb, as then the pent-up fresh water
was rushing down—at least it had been fresh; now
it was more than brackish.

Then all at once there came a lull, and the lonely
hamlet was busy as a hive of bees because the
moon was at first quarter. There would be a full
tide, not a high one, made after dark, and with that
tide the Wigeon would come. Some had come in

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 269

the day, but the lead had not been fired at for good
reasons. Guns were cleaned and punts made ready.
Those who fowled on shore, or rather in the mud,
borrowed their wives’ hand-bowls to bail out their
tubs, which were brimful of the mud in which they
were sunk, and then they put straw in them to make
them snug. Those who shot on shore went to their
places and made them comfortable -also with straw,
things generally being in a decidedly moist condition.

When the flats became fairly dry, and the fowl,
nearly all being Wigeon, rushed in from open water,
the place was absolutely alive with fowl. ‘“ Whe-oh-
whe-oh, we-we-oh,” and “ quack-queck, quack-quark-
quack,” and then “ Honk-honk, honk.” The waders
twittered and whistled, the Curlews were first on
the list for noise, and the ‘cussed yelpers” were
second best.

All were busy feeding, but as far as the waders
were concerned all were unheeded, Wigeon being
destined to be the order of the night. Still they
come, and now the tide is flowing. A line of
punts comes down the cut, the punters having
settled before starting, if possible all to fire together,
and to share the fowl. The men take their places
and drift up with the flowing tide. The flats may
look level, but they are not really so. As the
water floats them off their feet, getting finally too
deep for them to feed, all the fowl make for a
sloping length of ooze covered with grass, not yet
reached by the water, and here they gorge them-
selves voraciously.

270 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

The tide creeps up; so also do the punts. So
thick now are the Wigeon on their last bit of feed
that there is barely room for them to move about.
The punts are near enough. Four reports ring out
before the birds can rise, and three more as they
spring, then the tub-shooters get at them, followed
by those on shore. Mud-pattens are put on and
much gathering takes place, indeed, according to one
fowler’s statement, there would, when all the fowl
were reckoned up from that fortunate manceuvre,
be enough to fill a small cart. But such a chance
as this does not often present itself. When it does,
it is taken advantage of and is duly recorded in the
chronicles of the hamlet.

The Red-headed Pochard is locally known as
Duncur or Dunker, Red-headed Poker or Wigeon
Poker, and Great-headed Poker. At present he
visits our shores in great numbers, but owing to
the consequences of draining the meres and lakes
he is not seen now in this country in such vast
hordes as in past times, which are well within my
recollection.

The Dun-bird is a good diver, and brings up the
food he obtains, to eat it on the surface. Sea-grass
(Zostera) is one article in his bill of fare. Although
at times the birds cover some quiet pieces of fresh
water, they are reckoned as sea-ducks. This term
is used comprehensively on the coast either for
on-the-water or on-the-wing birds, but there is as
much difference between the build of a surface-
feeding duck and of a diving duck as there is

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 271

between a passenger steamer and a steam-tug. The
surface-feeding ducks can dive, and do under certain
circumstances ; but they do not dive for a living,
the others do; and the diving ducks without any
exception are stoutly-built birds.

Pochards are as hard as nail-bags, and require a lot
of killing. If they are dead, well and good, but it
is only lost time to pursue wounded birds, even by
boat, for you will not get them. They are thorough
divers, diving not only deep but far. Their bills will
occasionally be just poked up for air, and then away
they go again.

Bays and estuaries of great extent suit Pochards,
if water—not fresh, but what the marsh-men call
the “dead drinking-water ””—that forms the fleets
and lagoons is close to them, with reed and sedge
cover. They will leave the tide to rest there, and
in Essex ponds were specially formed for their
capture.

Essex has been, and is now, I think, equal to
Lincolnshire or Norfolk as a resort for fowl. ‘The
great estuary of the Blackwater river, with its miles
of ooze, covered with food at low water, attracts them,
as it once did on the opposite shore. The Essex
decoys were, from the nature of the feeding-slubs,
situated near the tide. Three only are known to
me now as being in use, at least they were in use in
1886 or 1888, but twenty-six are no longer used.
This important fact speaks for itself.

I shall not speak of the tons upon tons of fowl
captured in past times. Full particulars, carefully

272 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

compiled from decoy records, have been published
by men who were well acquainted with the matter.
Comparatively recently, that is to say, only forty
years ago, I saw such quantities of fowl taken there
and at the mouth of the Thames and Medway,
that an attempt to give any idea of the numbers
would seem ridiculous. .They were there for all to
see and to get if they could; and as far as reducing
their numbers was concerned, shooting made no
more difference than dropping half-a-dozen out of
one of the great flocks of sparrows that congregate
after the corn has been carried; the fowl are shot
both on the tide and on the slub, but the numbers
dropped are a mere nothing.

Given the most favourable conditions and the
greatest exercise of both care and _ skill, thirty
dead fowl is in my opinion a good shot from a punt
gun. This number has been placed in a punt
from one shot, but what is that out of thousands?
It is dangerous work anyway, both for professional
fowlers—that is, those who live by it in the season
—and for the gentlemen fowlers who fowl for sport.
Wild-fowling is very expensive when all is reckoned
up, but it is the cream of sport.

Seeing fowl and getting at them are two different
things. Men will give at times vivid accounts of
their fowling experiences in and on the places I
have mentioned. Not so much accounts of fowl
killed, but of their own escape from death-traps.
Some would tell that no fowl were to be had there.
There may not have been for them, yet all kinds

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 273

of fowl were there if you could only get at them
with the gun.

The decoys captured the fowl, Ducks, Teal, Pin-
tails, Wigeon, and Pochards, but the Pochards were
captured in a different way to the other fowl: the
piece of water arranged for their benefit was called
a pond. Round the pond were high nets fixed to
poles that lay flat on the ground. These nets were
placed near the edge of the Pochard-pond, and at
the foot of each net a deep trench was dug.

When there was a good lead on the pond, from
seven to eight hundred or a thousand, the fowl were
raised off the pond. As the nets were arranged
with balance weights, directly a string was pulled
they stood upright. According to the direction of
the wind the nets were used. It takes a Pochard
some time to rise clear of the water and well above
it; they rise head to wind.

All is right for the catch. They are raised up
and away they go. Just before they reach the edge
of the pond, up fly one or two of the long high nets,
and they hit against the meshes like a swarm of
flies, only they do not stop there. They simply
flutter or drop down the net into the trench at the
foot anyhow, one on the top of the other. There
they lie helpless ; they are not able to make use of
their wings when they are in the trench.

One great catch of Pochards is a notorious fact
well known all along the fore-shores. It is the one
Folkard has mentioned in his Wrldfowler in 1875.

When writing about the Pochard-ponds he tells

T

274 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

how on one or two occasions within present memory
the capture of Pochards, or Dun-birds as they are
locally called, has been so great at one drop or pull
of the net, that a wagon and four horses have been
required to remove them, and he states further that
these birds have been known to resort in flights so
numerous as apparently to cover every available
space of water in the pond, and that five hundred
to six hundred Pochards at one rise of the net was
in those days considered quite a moderate capture.

I have lived to see some remarkable changes,
and to see the fowl decrease in numbers. This is
to be laid not so much to the changes as to the
increased facilities for getting to the haunts of fowl,
which was at one time impossible. Now any person
who has money enough to pay the gun tax and the
hire of a man and skiff can go Gull-crippling, or at
least make a try at it. It is pop, pop, pop, and
nothing comes of it unless a Gull, presumably bent
on suicide, flies almost up to the gun-barrel. How
many powder-wasters and Gull-frighteners I have
seen! Sad fatalities occur among these still wild
haunts, do what man will to bring them under his
control. These, however, will not be mentioned,
my aim being to deal more with the bright than
the sad side of the matter, although mishaps take
place in covert shooting as well as when by the
tide.

There is a strangely-built diving-duck which is
known to shooters as the White-faced Duck, Frost-
backed Wigeon, Spoonbill Duck, and Scaup. It

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 275

arrives on our coasts at the end of October or early
part of November, according to circumstances.

Scaups are better to look at than to eat. Before
the commoner kinds of shell-fish reached the markets
in the quantities they now do, these birds were more
numerous on some parts of our coasts than they are
at present. Creeks and harbours have been altered,
and dangerous masses of rock have been blown to
pieces, to the untold benefit of all sea-faring folk,
but not to that of the Scaup. Those who have
from a boat looked through the clear water, down
on these rocky gardens when the tide was full
during calm weather, will fully understand what is
meant by Scaups’ diving rocks. The wrack and,
weeds are full of marine creatures, some nimbly
swimming, others resting on the weeds. Spat, as
the young of shell-fish are comprehensively called,
require while they are tender a certain amount of
shelter. This was supplied by the weed-covered
rocks, which were at one time far too numerous.
I have seen a creek with tortuous bends, some of
them very sharp ones, leading direct from open
water to a good harbour well inland, covered at low
water with shell-fish, mussel-scalps, winkle-hards,
cockle-patches, and crabs.

No matter how it tossed and thundered in open
water the fish were all right in their creek. Old
piles, weed-draped and all awash at high water,
contributed their share towards comfort. The fish
seemed to know all about it quite as well as the
birds. I have seen them landed with rod and line

276 WILD-FOWL AND SEA FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

just as fast as hooks could be baited. When the
water was clear, clouds of small creatures could be
seen going in and coming out of the cavernous
openings of those old and rotting piles. Even at
dead low water I never crept inside them, venture-
some even as I was, for some grim traditions hung
about those old pile wrecks.

I should certainly never buy a Scaup Pochard to
eat. One of my earlier friends once sold a couple
to a person who had pestered him, as he said, to
let him have them. The man who bought them
insisted that they must be good to eat because they
looked so handsome. They were cooked, and the
attempt was made to eat them, but it somehow
failed. The next time that Scaup-eater met the
shooter he told him that he had had enough of
Frost-backs to last him a lifetime.

They used to remind me when about their haunts
of the handsome Dutch luggers which sailed over
their diving-grounds, not over the rocks, though
certainly both birds and boats were built for the
water. When spring draws near they leave us for
their breeding stations in other lands.

Shooting Scaup from a boat or punt is not so
easy to do as to read about, because although to
those on shore the water in a dead calm appears
quite pulseless, the sea is in reality never still, and
you, looking down.on the weed-covered rocks below
where the wrack streams out and then drops down
again, are quite aware that the boat you are in does
not remain where you sculled her to. There is not

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 277

a breath of air stirring, but she has somehow got
round the other side of the rock-heaps, so that if
you are flounder-netting you have to bring her
round again. A school, as it is called, of these
gogegle-eyed dainties is well worth the trouble of
baiting for and catching. Spearing in calm, clear
water is very good sport, but for table purposes
the fish are better netted. I have had a catch of
flounders all alive and leaping, and within an hour
after I have been eating some of them fried in egg
and bread-crumb. That is the way to enjoy fish.
Now-a-days Scaups are frequently netted. This
was not done in my time, when those birds that
were killed were shot, with the exception of a few
captured with more valuable fowl in the decoys.
Sometimes, though not always, their capture is
comparatively easy, because they feed with the tide,
that is, they come in with it, diving as they advance
shorewards. A good bit of shell-feed where they
come in is picked out at low water and a net is
stretched out on driven-in stakes. When the tide
flows, this is all completely covered over, and the
birds in diving get tangled in the meshes and are
drowned. There seems just now to be a market
for every creature, living or dead. This is some-
times to be regretted. Some of the Scaups go to
the bird-preservers, and a great number—because
they are, as one of my fishing friends once said,
“not donkey mutton, and not good dog fish”—
are eaten in certain establishments on fast-days.
Before quitting this subject it may briefly be said

278 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

that although as a roast certain web-footed fowl are
not to be desired, yet when turned into soup they
are delicious.

I have in my time tasted jumble soup made from
fur, feather, and fin. It was composed of a rabbit,
one partridge, the latter having hung just long
enough—a very little more suspension would have
been too much—four thrushes, three blackbirds, and
last, but by no means least, half-a-dozen good perch
skinned and cut up with the others. The season-
ing and a few trifles were, if memory serves aright,
borrowed, so too was the iron pot the soup was
made in, and also the firing. The dinner service
consisted of two wooden jam spoons and a rusty
iron one cleaned up for the occasion, with a couple
of pint pots and a basin chipped round the edge.

How carefully was that soup skimmed and kept
just on the simmer by one who had fed many a
wood fire before, with a stick here and a stick
there, until, long before the concoction was ready, one
of the party observed that it smelt “right down
moorish.”

Shall I ever forget that meal, and how, when it
was over, we, as the old Irish song has it—

““Swore to a man, that not Judy Phelan
Ever made such a potful of soup” ?

What a pleasure it is when one is no longer young
to think over such experiences! I have wandered
a little from the subject of the Scaup, but at one
time of my life fishing and fowling were inseparable.

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 279

“There’s two if not three o’ them Frost-backs
diving round the old piles. Just cum, I reckins.
Cumin’, ain’t ye? The water’s smooth, and a bit
o’ fog creeps, but it ain’t nothing.”

However, I declined, as I was bruised in various
places, through having slipped off those old piles
the day before; in fact, | was what one of my
friends called ‘‘a crippled fowl.” This little matter
is explained, but the shooter is not contented with
such an explanation.

“Ye ain’t broke nothing, hev ye?”

"NO."

“Ken ye walk ?”

* Yes,”

‘‘Well, what’s to perwent ye cumin’ ?”

“‘T can’t shoot,. I’m too shaky.”

“Nobody wants ye to shoot. Ye ken steer, so
cum on. I'll put ye in the starn, and wrap ye up
like a babby.”

That comparison with an infant just about did it,
as he had no doubt expected, and in no measured
terms I told him that I did not feel the least bit
dead, finally recommending him to go to a certain
place where sulphur can be had at a cheap rate in
very large quantities. But he only grinned and said—

““T knows you'll come now.”

Down I went with him, for like the rest of his
class he was a good oarsman. Once he slacked
a bit to tell me that his gun was loaded with swan-
shot, because, he said, ‘‘ Them Frost-backs ken take
sumthing. Bring her in a bit, will ye, so as she'll

280 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

drift round them piles! I’m going toin oars. Right,
my son; right ye are, she’s going fine. Keep her
a leetle wide o’ thet ’ere fust pile-snag. She'll
drift round now like a swan.”

‘Ease her a little,’ he whispered, “fur if they’re
diving it’s in the slack t’other side. Ease her.”

Round she went like a drifting leaf, up went his
gun to his shoulder, ready for action. I just saw
a couple of forms going under water; then the shot
rang out. When the smoke drifted to one side, I
saw a young Scaup drake turned turtle, his great
paddles working and his white-fronted head moving
from side to side.

“Sharp work, waun’t it? He won’t kick much
longer. I’ve got ye;” but just as he stretched out
his hand to gather him in, that young drake righted
himself and dived like a flash. The bird was not
seen again. No doubt it afterwards died; but
never, unless the bird is desperately crippled, will a
shooter follow a wounded Scaup—he knows how
useless it would be.

The Red-crested Pochard (fulzgula rufina) and
Ferruginous Duck (Fuligula nyroca), or White-faced
Duck, as it is called on some parts of the coast, are
not likely birds to be met with in the course of
ordinary shooting. Although made on the strongest
lines, regularly built for the water, diving ducks get
drowned when the weather is very bad, for then the
life is literally battered and washed out of them.

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 281

THE WIGEON.
(Mareca penelope.)

Mate.—Bill greyish-blue; nail black ; iris hazel.
Upper part of head reddish-white ; cheeks and upper
neck brownish-red, dotted with black ; a lengthened
band of the latter on the throat. Fore-part and sides
of lower neck are light vinaceous ; upper part and the
sides below the wings finely barred with dark grey
and white. Wings grey, with a large patch of white ;
the speculum green, with a black band before and
behind it; the secondaries white, grey, and black.
The upper tail coverts partly black ; tail grey ; breast
and belly white ; the feathers under the tail black.
Legs and feet light greyish-blue, the membrane being
darker. Length, from bill to tail, twenty-one inches.

FremaLe.—A smaller bird. Bill, iris, and feet are
similar to those of the male. Head and upper neck
yellowish-red, with black spots. The feathers of the
upper parts generally are dusky brown, edged with
brownish-red or whitish. The wings are dusky grey ;
the speculum greyish, and without gloss. On the
lower fore-part and sides of the neck the feathers
are faintly barred brown and grey; breast and belly
white ; feathers.under tail barred with brown.

THE POCHARD.
(Fuligula ferina.)

Mate.—Bill black at the base and at the end, the
rest being of a light greyish-blue ; iris orange. Head

282 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

and half the neck, all the way round, rich orange
brown, lower part of the neck brownish-black. The
upper parts are very finely waved with dark grey
lines on a greyish-white ground ; the hind-part of the
back and upper tail coverts brownish-black ; the tail
greyish-brown. The primary quills are brownish-
grey, tipped with dusky brown ; the secondaries are
ash grey, edged with white; the coverts are grey,
edged with whitish ; the breast is pale grey, the hind-
part of it and the sides being waved faintly like the
back ; the belly is greyish-brown, indistinctly waved,
and the feathers under the tail are blackish-brown.
Legs and feet are lead colour, and the webs black.
Length, from bill to tail, eighteen inches.
FemALeE.—Smaller. Bill, eyes, and feet coloured
like those of the male, but the blue band on bill
narrower. The head and the hind-part of neck
are brownish-red ; the fore-part of cheeks, a space
beneath and behind the eye, and the throat are
paler. Upper parts greyish-brown ; fore-part of back
waved with whitish ; tail greyish-brown. Lower part
of the neck and a part of the breast are also greyish-
brown, but the feathers of these are edged with
brownish-white. The middle of the breast is greyish-
white ; the flanks dusky ; and the belly grey brown.

THE SCAUP DUCK.
(fuligula marila.)

Ma.e.—The bill light lead colour, the nail nearly
black ; iris bright yellow. Head and upper half of

THE WIGEON AND POCHARDS 283

neck black, glossed with green and purple; the rest
of the neck and part of the back and breast black ;
middle of back, scapulars, and wing coverts white,
waved with dusky lines ; hind-part of back brownish-
black, tail greyish-brown. Outer secondaries partly
white, primaries partly greyish-brown; breast and
sides white. Belly and lower tail coverts dusky ;
legs and feet pale greyish-blue, the membranes
dusky. Length, twenty inches.

Femate. — Head, neck, fore-part of back and
breast brown; a broad band of white on the fore-
head, upper parts blackish-brown, in part waved
with whitish ; middle of breast white, sides and hind-
parts dusky brown. Length, eighteen inches.

Tue Younc Birps.—Almost like the female, the
white in the latter and in the young giving rise to
the term ‘‘ white-faced.”

CHAPTER XXII

THE GUILLEMOT, LITTLE AUK, RAZOR-BILL, AND
PUFFIN

FootisH Guillemot, Sea-Mew, Tinkershere, Bad
Willy, Willock, Scuttock, and Scout, are some of
the local names for the Common Guillemot. This
small diver, like its larger allies, for it is formed on
the same lines, follows the shoals of surface fishes
all round our shores. Surface-swimming fishes are
mackerel, herrings, pilchards, sprats, and whitebait.
As small members of the different species are about,
as well as larger ones, there are plenty of them and
to spare. Other marine creatures help to fill the
stomachs of the birds beside fish, strictly speaking.
About their breeding haunts or habits we have
nothing to say, at least we do not feel inclined to say
anything, for that subject is worn out. They are
most amusing birds to watch, and, as one of their
titles indicates, are of a confiding nature. Though
called foolish, this is not the case; when diving the
Guillemots, like the Loons or Sprat Divers, use their
wings as well as their feet. It is a case of flying
under the water, and that is the reason the fish are

not able to get away.
284

GUILLEMOT, LITTLE AUK, RAZOR-BILL, PUFFIN 285

The Little Auk is at home on the waves; he is
not much larger than a Quail, a small, plump, active
Harlequin, in a suit of black and white. The only
adjective that seems appropriate to him as he goes
scooting over the water, or when he sits up at
times, is that of funny; a frog in a brown study,
looking hard at nothing, is not to be compared with
the Little Auk for quaintness. Yet wave-dweller
that he is, the elements at times are too much for
him, and he and his get blown off the surface of
the waters, like leaves in fall-time, when the wind
rushes through the woodlands. Storms from the
north-east and from north-north-east, when lifeboats
are not able at all times to reach a vessel before
she founders with all hands, are bad for sea-fowl.
When Petrels flicker round gas-lamps, and drop on
the pavement, or are caught by hand as they flick
and flutter, then the Little Auk, Sea Dove, or Little
Guillemot is found sitting on a doorstep, lost in
wonder and amazement at its strange surroundings.

One of the forms of supplications taught me in
childhood by women who had lost husbands and
sons, “gone down,” has often since then rushed
involuntarily to my lips—‘ Ged help all at sea!”
Common humanity suffers at such times, and so
do other creatures, and they will continue to. This
little humpty-dumpty of a diver has been found on
furze commons, blown there by gales much against
the poor little creature’s will. If it was possible for
him to live there, no doubt after a time, according to
evolutionary theories, he might develop into a Quail.

286 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

I have little to say of the Common Razor-bill.
Where a lot of fowl are hard at work, fishing, they
get so to speak mixed up a bit; and no wonder,
when on the toss of the tide they are up and under
in all directions, heads bobbing up and tails going
down. A regular boil-up it is altogether; the nets,
too, are heaving near the surface, ready to burst,
and some of the birds are meshed in them, a rare
mixture of scales and feathers. And that is how
the best specimens are got for the bird-preservers,
if the crew do not require them for eating. I knew
very well why the men set such store by their bags
of dried sage and their wicker hampers of onions,
when they were on a fishing cruise. As the shape
of some of the birds’ bills under notice alter in their
progress from the young state to that of maturity,
also in summer and in winter, nice distinctions could
not be expected at that time of day from the hungry
crew of a fishing-smack ; and a choice bit of fish,
or a mess of fish cooked as fishermen only know
how to cook it, is all very well backed up by some-
thing solid—fish alone will not keep the wind out
of you; a good basin of Willocks and Razor-bills,
stewed with sage and onions, and a good hunch of
home-made bread a week old, will.

The Puffin sheds some of the horny parts of the
bill in the autumn, so that the bill in winter is
smaller. The young bird of the year has a very
different bill to that of the adult. It is larger, but
very like the general appearance of the Little Auk’s
bill. The sides of the young bird's head are grey,

GUILLEMOT, LITTLE AUK, RAZOR-BILL, PUFFIN 287

in fact it looks as if it had poked its head into a

soot-bag. The upper parts of body dark blackish-
grey, and lower parts white. The legs and feet are
a dark flesh colour (livid) tinged with dusky, accord-
ing to age; these parts brighten up. Bottle-nose,
Sea Parrot, Gulder-head Pope, Mullet, Coulterneb,
and Tammie Norrie o’ the Bass, are some of the
titles that the Puffin lives under. He is an exca-
vator, a first-rate flighter and diver, and last but
not least, a rare good fighter. It is only when he
gets in a ploughed field thirty or forty miles away
from the tide, as he has been found recently, that
Tammie gets put to it a bit; and even then he bites
when he is picked up. Guillemots, Razor-bills, and
Puffins have all been picked up this year—1894—
blown far from home.

THE COMMON GUILLEMOT.
(Uria troile.)

Mate.—The bill black; iris brown; head and
upper part of neck black tinged with brown, which
is lost on the middle of the neck behind. The
lower hind-neck and upper parts are greyish-black ;
tips of secondary quills white ; from the middle of
the fore-neck to the tail white. The legs and feet
are dusky, with a tinge of red. Length, from bill to
end of tail, seventeen inches.

The female is similar to the male.

Winter plumage——When the autumn moult is
finished, the greater part of the dark brown of the

288 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

head and upper neck is replaced with white ; throat,
lower part of cheeks, sides of neck, and all the lower
parts white. There is no external difference to
distinguish the sexes.

THE LITTLE AUK.
(Mergulus alle.)

Mate.—The bill black; iris dark brown. The
upper part of head, part of the cheeks, hind-neck,
and all the upper parts are black, with a green gloss
on the back. There is a white spot on the upper
eyelid. The scapulars are streaked, and the second-
ary quills tipped with white; throat, breast, and
belly white; legs and feet dusky. Length, from
bill to end of tail, nine inches.

The female is similar to the male, but smaller.

THE COMMON RAZOR-BILL.
(Alca torda.)

Mate.—The bill bluish-black, a white band
crossing each mandible, the upper one shaped like
a short bill-hook ; a fine, white, thread-like line from
the upper mandible to the eye. The upper part of
head, hind-part and sides of neck, and the upper
part of body and wings are black, with a tinge of
green; the secondary quills are margined with
white. The throat, sides of head and upper neck,
fore-part of neck, and rest of the lower parts are

GUILLEMOT, LITTLE AUK, RAZOR-BILL, PUFFIN 289

white ; legs and feet black. Length, from bill to
end of tail, seventeen inches.

The female is similar in plumage to the male, and
not to be distinguished at sight.

In winter, the upper part of head and nape of
the neck are greyish-black; throat and sides of
head white, with a dusky band behind the eye.
Other parts very like the summer plumage. '

THE PUFFIN.

(Fratercula arctica.)

Mate.—The bill has three curved furrows on
each mandible. The basal rim and first ridge of
the upper mandible are yellow; the space between
greyish-blue; the basal margin of the lower mandible
bright red; the first ridge, and the space between,
as in the upper; the rest carmine. The wrinkled
membranes at the base of the bill are yellow; the
margin of the eyelids vermilion. Upper parts are
black on the back, glossed with blue of a greenish cast,
From the back of the hind-neck a band of blackish-
grey crosses the neck. The sides of head, from
over the eye to the throat, are white; the cheeks
tinged with grey, also the throat. The lower parts
are white; legs and feet vermilion. Length, from
bill to tail, twelve inches.

The female is not to be distinguished from the

male by sight.

CHAPTER XXIII
DIVERS AND GREBES

Tue Great Northern Diver, the prince of divers,
is well known on the coast as the Ring-necked
Loon, Cobble, Emmer, Sea-Herdsman, Great
Speckled Diver, Gunner, and Ember Goose; it is
one of the ocean wanderers. It is not the scarcity
of this grand fowl that prevents his being seen very
often in taxidermical establishments, but the bird’s
diving powers and instinct of self-preservation are
so great, combined with his immense vitality, that
the capture of a whale or a shark is an easy matter
in comparison with the circumvention, by any known
means, of the death of this great diver in a
full-plumaged condition. The young, as described
further on, are frequently seen, and can be got
at; I have had some sent to me just lately, fresh
from the tide, but they were in their first plumage.
Not the most profound scheming of as good a lot of
shots as ever tossed on the tide has yet been able to
do what some fowling friends of mine have long
been trying, namely, to place in my hands a full-

plumaged Northern Diver, with the damp salt spray
290

Great NorrHern Diver.

DIVERS AND GREBES 291

on his feathers. Skins are easily got, but these are
of birds that have not been killed on our waters. I
am hoping for one presently that has been killed on
the tide. As regards the question of the nesting of
_ this diver on any part of our remote British Isles,
opinions differ, scientific ones especially. The bird
has been mixed up with the Black-throated Diver,
the next on our list, and very naturally so. All
birds differ in size; and as to plumage, especially
when it takes two or three years to perfect it,
ordinary observers, and, indeed, very keen fowlers,
full of good practical knowledge, if without theories,
get a little bit puzzled at times. For my own part,
I firmly believe this bird has nested on our remote
northern isles. I have given in detail, to the best
of my ability, the old and young states of plumage,
because the question is a very vexed one. Once
I was present when a lot of fresh-killed fowl were
ticked off as to titles, almost before they were seen.
“Yes,” the shooter said, who had procured them,
‘all very well; you says they are so, but are they?
I think not.”

‘ That very handsome bird, the Black-throated
Diver, breeds on~-the islets of the hill lochs of
Scotland, although it is the rarest of the three
divers that visit our waters. It has been procured
in mature, but more frequently in immature, plumage
on the tide and tidal waters. All of the said birds,
‘when fairly on the wing, travel at a great pace,
shooting along like feathered meteors, over the water
and under it. They are as much at home there, for

-292 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

the time being, as the fish they feed on; if alarmed
in any way, they sink the body, so that only the
head and part of the neck are above water—a very
small mark to cover from a boat. Should the shot
take effect, well and good; if it does not, it is not
the least use rowing after the specimen, or, for the
matter of that, sailing. The fishing-nets sometimes
mesh these fowl when they are racing the shoals,
but not so often as they do the Great Northern and
the Red-throated Divers.

_ The Black-throated species prefers fresh waters
as arule. On the hill lochs in summer they are
fairly numerous at times, several birds being seen
together. They are eagerly sought for as specimens
for setting up, but like its larger relative, this is a
wary bird. A pair of Black-throats in full feather
are no small prize for a shooter, for their haunts are
not very accessible ones, and the birds are far worse
to get at. But in point of fact they must be con-
sidered merely as visitors, for the few that breed
in Scotland and the Isles are as nothing to those
that visit us from northern lands. Selby, in 1834,
discovered this species nesting at the foot of Loch
Shin, and upon most of the interior Sutherland
lochs. The nest, if a bit of bare ground at times
can be called one, is a short distance only from the
water, so that the bird, sitting horizontally on her
eggs, not upright, can push herself off them, and
glide on the cushion feathers of her breast into the
water like a seal. The long, oval-shaped eggs, two
in number—sometimes three—are brownish-olive,

DIVERS AND GREBES 293°

sprinkled all over with black and dark brown, with
larger spots of the same colour at the broader end.

The Red-throated Diver is the smallest and
commonest of its kind. It is a regular visitor on
all our coasts during the winter. For nesting pur-
poses the bird goes to more lonely spots than does
the Black-throated species, and it selects rather the
edges of small moorland tarns, than islands on lakes.
The eggs are laid so close to the water that they
are often quite damp underneath. The male helps
the female in hatching them out. ‘“ Kark-kark-
karkera!” cries this diver,.and it is said that these
notes are uttered mostly before wet or stormy
weather ; hence the local name of Rain Goose.

The divers are a most interesting class of birds,
and but little known to the general public. Their
legs and webbed feet, as well as that marvellous
arrangement of structure which appears, on dissec-
tion, for driving them through the water when they
dive, I shall not be able to treat of here. I have
examined these for hours, and then have left off,
wondering still.

Sprat Divers, or Sprat Loons, have been familiar
to me ever since I was big enough to come stagger-
ing home under the light weight of a score of
flounders in a small hand-net over my shoulders.
Directly I could toddle I dabbled in and by the
tide.

A north-easter is blowing, bringing with it a
sprinkling of snow—a regular biter it is; it hits you
like peas from a boy’s pea-shooter, for it is frozen

294 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

snow. The news has reached me from men who
were once my boyhood’s school-mates to come to
the tide. Five miles one must go ona lonely road,
and after that, having crossed in the ferry-boat,
seven miles of bad marsh tramping brings us to
open water, a wide, wind-swept estuary. How we
got there I do not care to say, but we had to clear
a lot of dykes of considerable width, such as |
would not attempt to leap now unless a bull was
behind me.

But what a scene awaited us! There were about
a score of small fishing-smacks working on the tide,
some for one thing, some for another ; sprats, young
herrings, smelts, whitebait, and flounders, were all
there, in exhaustless quantities.

The large Crested Grebe, known as the Cargoose,
or Marsh Goose, Gaunt, Tippet Grebe, and Crested
Ducker, is not now so numerous as it was in my
young days. Drainage has had much to do with
this, but not everything. Since the foolish craze
for specimens of British-killed birds with their eggs
and nests has come to the front, these birds have
suffered with others. The old birds, their eggs and
nests, also their curiously-striped young, all being
brought in for collectors, measures have been taken
at last for their preservation far more efficient than
those that the Bird Act can enforce, and these are
systematic personal supervisions by genuine sports-
men naturalists, on whose waters and meres a few
pairs still breed. In winter this Grebe visits the
coast; in fact, if the weather is very severe, all

DIVERS AND GREBES 295

those we shall notice are found on the tide, as a
rule not far from shore, but there are exceptions
even to this. Birds of the year, and immature
birds, are more frequently met with than adults;
this is the case, as a rule, with all diving fowl. As
a diver, this bird is in the front rank; you will see
him gliding under and coming up again in the most
quiet manner.

Before us is a long, shallow lagoon, deeper far in
mud than water, although in the centre the water
may be from five to six feet in depth in some parts.
One hundred yards it may be at its widest, and
there is a patch of reeds across it. The tide slowly
forces its way to this, just enough to make the dead
drainings from the uplands brackish; for only a
small run from a tall dyke enters this long, creeping
“bit of water, that runs for five miles right through
some of the marshes. The reeds are very thick
here, and a rare height. There is not much to be
seen in or on such bits, as a rule, for the show is
inside in the reed channels. A pair, if not a couple
of pairs, Duckers by name and duckers by nature,
frequent this bit, but it is difficult to get a look at
them. We do see one, but only for a few seconds,
as he rises with a fish a little too large for him; his
tufts and ruff are bluffed out in the efforts to swallow
it, making him look as one just a little bit wild about
the head.

296 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

THE GREAT NORTHERN DIVER.

’

(Colymbus glacialis.)

Mave.—The bill is black, three inches in length,
the tips being horn-coloured. The iris is bright red.
Head and neck are a deep bluish-green, glossed
with purple. There is a patch on the throat, and a
broad ring on the neck, not completed in front, of
white streaked with black. The upper parts of
the birds are black. The middle of the back
and scapulars have rectangular white spots. The
wings have the white spots round, two of them on
each feather. The tail is brownish-black ; the pri-
mary coverts, primary and secondary quills are
brownish-black, glossed with green. The sides of
the lower part of the fore-neck are streaked, or
“striated,” with black; the edges of the body
greenish-black, sprinkled with white dots. Lower
parts glossy’ white; legs and toes bluish-purple
externally, tinged with reddish-yellow internally.
The membranes are blackish-brown, paler in the
middle. The length, from bill to tail, is thirty-six
inches.

FremaLe.—Resembles the male in plumage, but
is smaller.

In the young the bill has the ridge of the
upper mandible dusky; basal part and edges,
with the whole of the lower mandible, greenish-
yellow; iris brown. The upper part of the head
and nape are dark greenish-brown. The hind-part
and sides of neck are grey brown, the latter marked

DIVERS AND GREBES 207

with greyish-white ; the upper parts blackish-
brown, the feathers margined with ash grey. The
tail and quills brownish-black, glossed with green ;
fore-part of neck greyish-white, faintly marked with
grey, the cheeks also; lower sides of neck streaked
with grey. Lower parts pure white, with the ex-
ception of a grey-brown band across the hind-part
of. the belly. The feet dusky externally, buffish
flesh colour internally ; membranes flesh-coloured.
Length, from bill to end of tail, thirty-one inches.

THE BLACK-THROATED DIVER.
(Colymbus arcticus.)

Mate.—The bill is black, two inches and a half
in length; iris red. The upper part of the head
and the hind-neck are light grey; fore-part and
sides of head darker; fore-neck purplish-black,
ending below angularly, having a band of inter-
rupted white above; the sides and lower part of
the neck in front are dusky, streaked with white.
The upper parts are black, glossed with green in
front, shaded with brown behind. There are two
dorsal bands of square white spots; the scapulars
have larger spots of white. The lower parts of the
body are white, with a lengthened band of dusky
on the sides. The legs and feet are grey blue
externally and light flesh-coloured internally ; the
membranes or webs are flesh-coloured. Length,
from bill to end of tail, twenty-eight inches.

FEMALE.—Similar to the male but smaller, the
length from bill to tail being twenty-five inches.

298 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

In the young the bill is light grey blue, dusky
along the ridge, and whitish at the base of the
lower mandible; iris brown. The upper part of
the head and the hind-neck are a dark greyish-
brown; the cheeks greyish-white, finely streaked
with dusky; fore-part of the neck greyish-white,
faintly dotted, its sides below streaked with brown.
The upper parts of the body are brownish-black,
the feathers having broad light grey margins. The
hind-part of the back is a dull brownish-grey, the
. tail feathers are dusky, margined with grey. The
quills are brownish-black, the secondaries being a
lighter tint, margined with grey. The lower parts
of the body are pure white; the feathers on the
sides and some of the lower tail coverts are dusky,
edged with bluish-grey. The legs and feet are a
dusky grey, paler on the inner side.

THE RED-THROATED DIVER.
(Colymbus septentrionalis.)

Mate.—The bill is bluish-black, two inches and
a half in length; iris bright red. The sides of
head, neck, and throat are bluish-grey, the upper
part of the head being marked with small dark
spots. The nape, hind-neck, and lower parts of it
are streaked with black and white. On the fore-
part of the neck is a lengthened broad band of
orange red, The upper parts are brownish-black,
glossed with green, without any white spots. The
lower parts are a glossy white; the sides greyish-

DIVERS AND GREBES 299

black. A narrow band of dull grey runs across the
hind-part of the belly. The legs and feet are
brownish-black externally, and pale bluish flesh-
coloured internally ; the webs, or membranes, are
flesh-coloured. Length, from bill to end of tail,
twenty-six inches.

FemaLe.—Similar to male, but smaller. Length,
from bill to end of tail, twenty-three inches.

The young in winter.—The bill is flesh-coloured
at the base, and bluish-grey towards the end; iris
brown. The upper part of the head and the hind-neck
are greenish-grey, finely streaked with a paler tint,
the latter showing more on the neck. The cheeks
and sides of neck are white, with faint grey markings ;
the fore-part of the neck white, faintly marked with
small grey specks. All the upper parts are a deep
glossy greenish-grey, finely speckled with greyish-
white. The primary quills blackish-grey, tinged
with green; the secondaries are like the feathers
of the back. The tail feathers are tipped with
greyish-white ; the lower parts pure white. A faint
grey band runs across the hind-part of the belly.
The legs and feet are dusky externally ; internally,
including the ridge of the tarsus, they are light
bluish-grey ; the webs, or membranes, dusky at the
sides, dull flesh-coloured in the middle. Length,
from bill to tail, twenty-five inches.

The measurements given are general ones. The
divers which I have recently received from the
tide, directly they were shot, have in all three
species slightly exceeded the measurements I have

300 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

given. The adults are described in their summer
plumage (nesting plumage), the young in their first
winter plumage. To give the intermediate changes
would take up too much space in a work of this
kind.

THE GREAT CRESTED GREBE.
(Podicipes cristatus.)

Matr.—The bill is two inches in length and
carmine-coloured, the ridge dusky, the tips yellowish-
grey; iris carmine. A bare dull green space runs
from the eye to the mouth. The upper part of the
head and occipital tufts are greyish-black with a
tinge of green; the ruff reddish-brown in front, and
greyish-black behind. From the upper mandible
over the eye is a band of reddish-white; a part of
the throat and cheeks is white below the ruff; the
fore-part of the neck is white, with a tinge of brown
on the sides. The hind-parts are blackish-grey.
The upper parts are greyish-black, with a brown
tinge. In the front edge of the wing all the humeral
feathers, and nearly all the secondary quills, are
white ; the lower parts of the body silvery white.
The legs are dusky green externally, greenish-
yellow internally; the toes are greenish-yellow
above and dusky below, also dusky towards the
margins. The length, from bill to end of tail, is
twenty-three inches.

FrmaLe.—Smaller, and has the occipital tufts and
ruff shorter, but similar in other respects. Length,
from bill to end of tail, nineteen inches.

DIVERS AND GREBES 301

THE RED-NECKED GREBE.
(Podicipes griseigena.)

Mate.—The bill is black, paler at the end, light
yellow at the base. The iris is carmine; the upper
part of head greyish-black ; cheeks and throat ash
grey. The ruff is edged above with white; the
fore-part and sides of neck being a rich brownish-
red. The upper parts are greyish-black, with the
edges of the feathers lighter; the front edge of the
wings is narrowly marked with white; the outer
secondaries are white ; the lower parts silvery white,
with dusky streaks on the sides. The feet are
greenish-black externally, with the lobe margins
dusky. Length, from bill to tail, eighteen inches.

FemALE.—Similar to male, but smaller.

In any state of plumage, young or intermediate,
this species may be distinguished from the Crested
Grebe by the bill being thicker, and the base yellow
instead of carmine.

THE HORNED GREBE.
(Lodicipes auritus.)
Mate.—The bill is bluish-black, with the tips

yellow. The iris is carmine, with an inner ring of
white. The upper part of head, ruff, cheeks, and
throat are glossy black. A band from the bill, over
the eye, including the occipital tuft, is yellowish-red.
The fore-part of neck and sides of body are brownish-
red, and the upper parts greyish-black ; the feathers
edged with dull grey; secondary quills white, and

302 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

some of the feathers on the humeral quills greyish-
black. The length, from bill to end of tail, is
fourteen inches.

FemaLe.—Similar to male but sraller, with tufts
and ruff shorter, and not so bright as in the male.
The feet are dusky, tinged with grey externally,
dull yellow internally.

Younc: Winter.—The upper part of head, hind-
neck, and upper parts of the body are greyish-black,
the edges of the feathers lighter. The throat and
cheeks are white; fore-neck pale grey; lower parts
silvery white, with dusky markings on the sides.

THE EARED GREBE,
(Lodicipes nigricollis.)
Matz.—The bill is black, with a tinge of blue.

The iris carmine, with two small dusky tufts, a
short black ruff, and a long tuft of orange red
feathers from behind each eye. The upper parts
are greyish-black; the lower silvery white; sides
light red, streaked with black. The feet are greyish-
black externally, grey green internally. The length,
from bill to end of tail, is thirteen inches.

Younc: Winter.—The upper part of head black-
ish-brown, darker behind, shading into greyish,
reaching below the eyes, and covering part of the
cheeks ; fore-part of neck greyish-brown; upper
parts of body brownish-black. The wings are of a
browner shade, with white markings, as in the adult.
Lower parts silvery white.

CHAPTER XXIV
CORMORANTS AND GANNET

Tue Common Cormorant is called Coal Goose,
Great Scart, Scarve, White-headed Cormorant ; this
latter name applies to the full breeding state, when
the fine white lines on the head and neck show for
a brief time very conspicuously. Crested Cormorant,
Great Cormorant, and White-spot Cormorant are
the names it is known by on the coast-line.

This fisher is, to a certain extent, local as to choice
of habitat; fish in large quantities it must have, for
it is a voracious feeder, yet in proportion to its size
not more so than other fish-eating birds. Of the
Cormorant it may well be said that good digestion
waits on appetite.

The young birds wander about considerably at
times. Asa rule, all the birds of this species that
we have seen procured inland, from rivers, lakes,
meres, and from trout streams, have been more or
less in immature plumage. Adults have, at various
times and places, been found perching in or on most
extraordinary perches for a sea-fowl. Church towers

and their weather-vanes are frequently ornamented
303

304 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

by this web-footed percher. Scarts are well known,
and their diving powers are proverbial.

The Cormorant uses its wings as well as its large
paddles when diving. Grebes do not use their
wings, for the hind-parts are finished off seal fashion,
taking into consideration that they are birds, and
they use their leaf-like, fringed feet to send them
through the water when they dive, much in the
same manner as seals do.

Sea water is very clear at times; there is some
quality in it that permits you to see down for far
greater depths than you could in spring water. The
movements of all divers under water are executed
with extreme rapidity. I have seen a little of their
movements under water; not one fraction of what
I should ‘have liked to see, but one must rest con-
tented. No greyhound—and I have seen some of
the best in my time—ever coursed hares with
greater keenness than these submarine feathered
divers use in coursing the fish.

I will try to give my readers some idea of what
this fish-coursing is like, as I have seen it, frag-
ments atatime. There is a sprat-boat on the tide,
waiting to work her nets. She is the first one of
the small fleet that has made her appearance there
for the season, and she, for the time, has anchored.
So far as the water is concerned, it might be the
calmest of summer weather ; it is ‘‘ Gin,” or, rather,
‘Hollands clear” ; quite clear enough on the sandy
parts, close inshore, for flounder-spearing. But we
are some distance from shore; three miles out, at

CORMORANTS AND GANNET 308

least, from the marsh-lands. The weather is cold
enough to make us “beat the booty,” as they term
it; that is, thrash your ribs with your open hands
vigorously. Lip-lip-lip-lip-lip-lip, lipper-lipper-lip-
lip-lip-lip-lip, like the rain falling on the surface ; yet
it certainly does not rain. The sound is caused by
countless catches of sprats swimming close to the
surface, feeding as they swim; the ‘‘sprat rain,” so
called from the noise the shoals make. We can see
the surface ruffled by their progress, and they are still
coming, from where our boat is anchored. ‘Shin up
an’ look down on ’em,” our friend shouts from below.
This. we quickly do. Cackle and bark! bark and
cackle! This comes from a couple of Cobs.
Down one drops, snatches a fish (a young herring
by the look of it, for it is three times larger than
a sprat), and his mate fights him for it, before he
can pouch it. They are thrashing each other with
their strong pinions viciously, digging with their
vulture-like bills, making the water flirt up in all
directions. There is enough fish around and
beneath them to have them off the surface of the
water; but no, they must fight and squabble in the
midst of teeming abundance, because it is their
nature-so to do.

This is not peculiar to Gulls, for other creatures
besides birds squabble at times over a good find, or
quarry. The divers have not flown with the shoals,
but they have swam with them. Some are at work
below us; we see grey streaks and white flashes as

the birds dash round the boat. Their speed is so
».¢

306 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

great that a flash is all you can call it. After a bit
one head pops up, then another ; only for a second
or two for breath, and then at it they go again.
Then a large bird rises like a seal from the water,
and plunges again. Quick as he is, we know that
is a Cormorant, or Scart. If I may be allowed to
compare marine matters with those of the land, the
way that the divers rush about round the shoals is
very like that of sheep-dogs gathering a large flock
of sheep into a small compass.

Loons, Cormorants, Guillemots, Razor-bills, and
others have all been kept in ponds constructed for
the purpose of observing their movements under
water, when in pursuit of their finned prey. As I
have observed before, birds adapt themselves to
circumstances, and the Cormorant would soon find
out that he would cripple his wings if he used them
in those comparatively shallow. pond structures. So
he throws his large webbed paddles behind him, and
shoots along seal fashion. The fish must be fresh
—that is a vital necessity; but dead haddocks,
whitings, herrings, and others, do not require much
exertion to procure when they are thrown in to
them.

Diving birds, in a captive state, soon get like
trout, pike, and’ perch under similar conditions,
artful. They know exactly what they have to do
to get their food, and they work accordingly for it.

The Cormorants, like otters, can be, and are,
trained to catch fish for their owners. Some train
both, others train the Cormorants alone for this

CORMORANTS AND GANNET 307

purpose. The birds, not the otters, are captured
in a wild state by a very simple process, and then
are trained as Hawks or Falcons are trained for
sport—the very cream of sport this is, for the fowl
and fish themselves are as nothing in it.

Both Cormorants and otters can bite; the bite
of the first may be forgotten and forgiven, for it is
only the nip of a bird, but ask any one that has
been fixed by the otter how he liked it, and you
will hear some strong language. There is no more
trouble with trained Cormorants than with rabbit
beagles—indeed the birds are more tractable. Some-
times, for a treat, the owners of the birds take their
throat-straps off, and let them fish on their own
account. When this takes place, their keepers or
attendants have to carry them home, for, like ‘old
Biddlecome’s”” proverbial seventeen-year-old gander
that he fatted up for Christmas, they have managed
to get a little more inside of them than they can
walk with nicely.

Much nonsense has been written about the Cor-
morant, as well as of other birds. In fact, the Owl,
the Cormorant, and the Bittern have all had the
bad luck to be slandered. Yet the trio are first-
rate and most amusing feathered companions ; the
first is, as he looks, wise in his own way ; the second
intelligent and useful; and as to the Bittern, he is
a feathered contortionist.

If one lived for two hundred years one would
never read the whole riddle of Nature’s children.

About the Solan Goose, or Common Gannet,

308 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

much has been written, so we will say nothing about
this long-billed fowl, except that on the eastern lines
of coast; and elsewhere as well, it can at times be
seen following the shoals, and plunging with others,
both old and young, of its family—or, to be strictly
correct, families—with the regularity of clockwork.

So much is the Gannet a wanderer, that, like the
Albatross, in the breeding season excepted, it is
continually on the wing. This bird plunges when
flying, and not from the face of the water.

THE COMMON CORMORANT.

(Phalacrocorax carbo.)

Mae.—The bill dusky on the ridge, greyish-
brown on the sides, the base yellowish-white, tips
brown ; iris bright; a bare space round it greenish-
brown; bright yellow below ; also yellow pouch or
gular sac. A broad band of white crosses the
throat from one eye to the other. The head,
neck, lower parts, a band down the back, middle
and hind-parts are black, glossed with bluish-
green. The feathers on the fore-part, and sides of
back, scapulars, wing coverts, and secondary quills
are greyish-brown edged with greenish-black, having
green and bronze reflections. The primary quills
and tail are greyish-black; a patch of white over
each thigh according to season. The head and
neck are finely streaked with white; the legs and
feet greyish-black. Length, from bill to end of tail,
thirty-eight inches.

CORMORANTS AND GANNET 309

The female is similar to male, but smaller.

In the young, the bill is pale brown; iris brown;
bare skin at base of bill flesh-coloured; upper parts
greenish-brown ; head and neck with paler streaks.
The feathers of the fore-part, sides of the back, and
wing coverts are brownish-grey, bordered with dark
brown; quills and tail feathers brownish - black ;
fore-neck and lower parts of body grey brown, fading
into white on the breast and belly. The changes
from the first year’s plumage described above are,
of course, varied.

THE GREEN CORMORANT.

(Phalacrocorax graculus.)

Mate.—The bill is black; the base of the upper
and lower margins of the basal part of the bill are
yellow, streaked with black ; a bare space round the
eye, and from that to the bill, is black; iris green.
The general colour of the plumage is greenish-black,
and lustrous; the feathers on the back and wings
lighter, and margined with velvet black. The
primary quills and tail are greyish-black ; the legs
and feet black. In the breeding season this bird has
a tuft on the head, two inches in length, of erect
incurved feathers. Length, from bill to tail, twenty-
nine inches.

The female is similar to the male.

Black Cormorant, Green Scout, Shag, Crested
Cormorant, and Green Cormorant are the names
this bird is known by, the last being the best one.,

310 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

This, as a rule, is not so frequently met with as the
common bird, except on certain parts of the coast.

THE COMMON GANNET.

(Suda bassana.)

Mate.—The bill is pale blue grey; the lines on
the upper mandible blue black. The bare spaces
about the eyes and throat are the same colour; the
iris is bluish-white. The head and hind-neck are
pale reddish-buff; upper and lower plumage white.
The primaries and first secondaries are a brownish-
black; legs and feet dark brown, scutellated lines
apple green. Length, from bill to end of tail,
thirty-six inches.

The female is similar to the male.

The young are dusky grey, of a warm tone
speckled with white ; they are called, locally, Purple
Geese.

CHAPTER XXV
THE GULL FAMILY

Tuat grand bird, the Great Black-backed Gull,
Carrion Gull, or Cob, as he is more generally called,
is one of the greatest feathered ornaments that our
shores and waters can boast of at the present time ;
for the bird’s cleanly-cut, well-contrasted plumage
of black and white is as pure as the water that
ripples over his dainty webbed feet. He is a bird
for all weathers; sunshine or storm, winter or
summer, make not the least difference to him, he
beats up and down the coast-lines and over the tide.
As a rule they are pairs, sometimes single, except
during the netting season. Then they come, like
the marine vultures that they are, from wild, out-
of-the-way places known only to themselves. When
that is over, for a time they beat back again to
where they started from. A very wide-awake and
cautious bird is the Cob.

The young Cobs, like other inexperienced crea-
tures, come to grief for want of knowing how to
take care of themselves at times; but not too often,

for they inherit the instinct of self-preservation from
311

312 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

their parents in a very remarkable degree. Traps
account for some of them far more than the gun,
both young and old ones. This at one time was
not the case; at least I can answer for the fact that
it was not so on those fore-shores known to myself.
Bringing young Cobs, and if possible one or two
adults—a more difficult matter—from far-off places,
where the boats only-had business once in the year
at a certain time, was very different from their being
interfered with on their own line of shores and
fishing-grounds. The Raven has a very ancient
look about him, as if he could tell a lot if he thought
proper, but the Cob looks weird and uncanny, as if
he was continually thinking over the creatures that
he had seen go down to Davy’s locker.

Here is a foreground of blocks and rough beach,
strewn in places with heaps of washed-up deep-
water tangle and bits of broken spars; the larger
wreckage has been gathered. Flecks of dark dun
clouds are drifting along in a clear blue-grey sky,
that lights up a long stretch of sands which are
glistening with wet, for the tide has only just gone
down. Over the sands, backwards and forwards,
beats a Cob. After a time he settles. There is no
need this time to run and shout, to scare him off a
wreck of poor humanity; he and his mate are de-
voting their utmost exertions to a dead marsh-land
sheep. These dead creatures are, or at least they
were, far too numerous at times than could be
desired by any one. Hoodies, or Dun Crows, are
there as well, and more are coming; but the reason

“TINS) GANDVE-HOVI LVAUO

THE GULL FAMILY 313

the adult birds were not shot at, nor any other means
adopted for their capture or death, was that by their
movements they told those that got their living
from salt water what they might expect. No matter
how fine the weather, or how fair the surroundings
looked, if the Cob was seen on any parts of the
flats above or below, those that saw him stand there;
with one leg tucked up, and his head drawn in on
his shoulders, told all within hail, as they made their
passage, what they had seen. Thirty or forty miles
is as nothing for the pinions of these strong birds.
The tame Cobs, too, those that survived the chas-
tisement given to them for using their bills on
people without just cause, told the same tale in a
different way ; when foul weather was coming, they
barked and cackled; not only that, they bit all that
came near them a little more sharply than usual.
One or two of the craft that I knew were what were
called North Sea boats, built on lugger lines. If
old Cobs had been seen in the position mentioned
on any portion of the marsh flats, on either shore,
the captains and owners of those vessels, as well as
the crews, would be seen in a state of restless
activity getting ready to make the open sea, if it
blew a hurricane outside. Fully fitted with running
gear, spare anchors, and spars these were, and not a
man of course in the crews but what knew his place,
and what to do in it.

This was a cause for wonder to me, and it had to
stop at that, for questions I dared not ask when I
was young. I had been told that it was a fault that

314 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

carried heavy punishment with it. Why some of
the elders of the community should tramp miles
across the flats to see those vessels dash into open
water, and give them a hearty parting cheer, I did
not understand then.

Those vessels would dash round and about the
sands, and other dangerous places, like the Cobs
that had given them notice to go out, ready to help
any ship in distress. Lights and lifeboats had not
been developed in the magnificent manner they
now have been. Salvage, of course, was one very
powerful incentive, but that was not all; that came
in afterwards—their hearts were in the right places,
and beat all right. The crews of those luggers, and
others as well, risked their lives to the very utmost
to save both ship and crew, the crew first.

Hovelling, or hovering, names for wrecking a
ship in distress, was not in fashion on the shores
where I have watched and studied the Great Cob.

The Lesser Black-backed Gull, when in the
company of its larger relative, is not to be distin-
guished from it at a distance. It is only when
the boats are out fishing that the larger Gulls
come near enough for their species to be made out
with any precision. Old birds are mixed up with
those of the first and second states of plumage. As
we have not had them long enough in a captive
state to note the time required for them to complete
their full featherings, we must accept the opinions
of old shore-shooters, that it takes at the least three
years for Gulls to reach the perfect state of plumage.

THE GULL FAMILY 315

The young of the Lesser Black-back resemble in
general colouring those of the larger bird. From
their nests being repeatedly harried, some places
where they once resorted to for breeding purposes
have been deserted. As their large eggs are very
good to eat, there is some excuse to be made; but
at one time the last clutch or laying was always left
for the birds to hatch out.

There is no reason to doubt what others have
stated, namely, that this bird, at least, nested not
one hundred miles from London. In a few more
years such matters. will become traditions of the
past. With those that gain their living on the
water large Gulls are not liked, for they do a lot of
mischief. It is something very different, seeing a
pair, or for the matter of that a couple of pairs,
sedately flapping over the tide, or floating like corks
on the water; then they are the ornaments of the
fore-shores ; but when hosts gather, Great Cobs,
Lesser Cobs,.and Herring Gulls, to wait on the
boats and have their full share, day after day, and
week after week, the matter becomes serious. The
fish are torn out of the nets, and the meshes cut and
broken by their strong sharp bills.

It is a confused, shifting cloud of wings, black,
brown, and grey—threshing, waving, and flapping ;
there are hoarse barks and cackles mixed with the
querulous cries of the young birds. They are all
there, the whole Gull family that frequent our
shores, big and little.

Gulls are not considered as fowl, strictly speaking ;

316 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

yet they are eaten frequently by those that know
how to deal with them. I have dined off a Herring
Gull recently, and the Black-backed species are quite
as good. The only thing to complain about is, that
they have more feathers than meat on them. No
one that had at any time of his life fowled on, or by,
the tide would omit the Gulls, either in speaking
about the fowls or in writing, for they hover about
to prey on any dead or wounded bird. If a trap is
set for one of the Raptores, the Gull gets in it; if a
sheep that has died is poisoned for the benefit of
the Hoodies, the Gull has his share and goes to
sleep over it. But there is a bit of a drawback to
this; those rough-coated, bob-tailed sheep-dogs are
very sagacious, and think matters over on their own
account. One of them I knew had seen his master
make some dead mutton look very inviting, and as
he was never kept on the chain, he sneaked off at
night for a ‘“‘blow-out.” In the morning the shep-
herd found him dead on his door-flag. By the side
of the doctored mutton he found one Crow. The
dog had driven the Gulls away.

That fine, pure-looking bird, the Herring Gull,
is larger than the Lesser Cob, and more stoutly
built. In its general behaviour and habits it re-:
sembles those we have already noticed. All refuse
is acceptable to this bird, whether washed up or
brought down; no matter how, so long as there is
enough of it. Marine vulture, as a comprehensive
title, suits all three. That is one reason why they
are so easily kept by the fishermen’s children, for

THE GULL FAMILY ' 317

they will eat all that can be spared for them, and
forage for themselves as well. Nothing hurts them
but scrub-brooms and kicks, which luxuries are
provided at times for them. When a bird of either
species takes a piece of food from a child and cuts
its fingers in doing so, it is very apt to get repri-
manded ; and if this takes place too often, the Gulls
are apt to take a sad view of life and give matters
up—pine away in fact.

Very few sea-birds give more pleasure to the
wandering naturalist than does the Common Gull,
that might, I think, be called the Lesser Silvery
Gull, for it favours the larger Herring Gull very
closely.

To a certain extent this bird, although called
common, is local in its choice of habitat, for I have
seen Black-backed Cobs and Herring Gulls in
certain places in which I have not seen the so-called
Common Gull.

Where large ploughed fields follow one another
down the uplands, close to the tide, everything
suits them admirably. It is a very pretty sight to
see them following the plough for the small deer
that they can pick up from fresh-turned furrows.

I have watched Rooks, Dun Crows, Hoodies,
Jackdaws, Pewits, Starlings, and Gulls, the latter
in greater numbers than the others, in two large
fields, eighty acres in extent, close to the tide; and
again within a couple of miles of it, on one upland
farm, when I was a boy. I have seen them after
they had filled their crops with mice that the plough

318 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

had turned out of house and home, worms, grubs,
and beetles, also cantankerous wire-worm, resting on
the green turf of the marshes close to some shallow
pools where they had washed their bills and feet.

If let alone this bird will throw off much of the
extreme caution peculiar to this family. In fact, we
have been able to get closer to them than we could
to the Rooks.

They are harmless creatures, always on the look-
out for unconsidered trifles. In the fishing season
they gather with the others. When fields are
-manured with fish, then is the time to see them
gather, if the heaps have not been scattered and
ploughed in. Should the weather not be favourable
to do this, two or three cartloads of fish soon go.
But the good they do in and about the fields must
be set against this.

Pickmire, Sea-Crow, Black- Cap, Mire- Crow,
Laughing Gull, Black-headed Gull, Red - legged
Gull, and Pewit Gull, are the names that the Brown-
hooded Gull is known by. Although this Gull is
as a rule called the Black-headed, the title is not
a right one; Brown-hooded, or headed, would be
correct.

The local title, that of Pewit Gull, is very ap-
propriate, for the bird is found frequenting meres
and marshes. With the exception of that uncommon
‘visitor, the Iceland Gull, these Gulls that I have
lightly touched on will be found more or less in
suitable localities by all those that fowl on or by
the tide.

THE GULL FAMILY 319

The last bird that fell to the gun of the best of
my old friends, when I shot with him in the marshes,
was a Pewit Gull.

THE GREAT BLACK-BACKED GULL.

(Larus marinus.)

Mate: Summer plumage.—T he bill is pure yellow,
with the patch near the end of the lower mandible
carmine ; iris pale yellow; the edges of the eyelids
carmine. Head and neck are pure white; back
and wings very dark slate colour, or greyish-black
tinged with purple. The quills are tipped with
white. All the lower parts are pure white; legs
and feet flesh-coloured. Length, from bill to end
of tail, twenty-nine and sometimes thirty inches.

Winter plumage.—The patch on the bill is orange
red; head and neck white, with light brown streaks ;
rest of plumage as in summer.

The female is similar to male, but smaller. The
sizes of these birds are a little different at times,
also the depth of the dark parts of the plumage.
The reason for this one need not explain.

The young have bill brownish-black, base of lower
mandible flesh-coloured ; iris dark brown; head and
neck hoary white, streaked with greyish-brown,
broader on the hind-part of the neck. The upper
parts are mottled with black, dirty white, and grey
brown; wing coverts barred with brown; primary
quills blackish-brown, tipped with white ; tail feathers

320 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

white, patched and barred with brownish-black and
dusky. The lower parts are a mixture of greyish-
white and very light brown, barred and _ spotted
with dark brown. The legs and feet are livid-
toned flesh colour. The young are great speckled
creatures of grave appearance in a state of captivity.
Before they can use their wings, they make the
very best use of their legs when alarmed, and hide
up if possible. If you attempt to comfort them
when they are querulously crying for the parents
they have been taken from, they will bite you
severely enough.

THE LESSER BLACK-BACKED GULL.
(Larus fuscus.)

Mate: Summer plumage.—The bill is light
orange ; patch on lower mandible vermilion. Iris
pale yellow; eyelids vermilion; head, neck, and
all the lower parts snowy white. The fore-part
and middle of back, scapulars, upper wing coverts,
and secondary quills are a blackish-grey, with a
tinge of purple; primaries and their coverts darker ;
all the quills tipped with white; legs and feet
gamboge yellow. Length, from bill to end of tail,
twenty-two inches.

Winter plumage.—The bill greenish-yellow ; head
and neck white, with light brown streaks. The rest
of plurhage as in summer.

The female is similar to the male, but smaller.
With the exception of the dark parts of the plumage

THE GULL FAMILY 321

changing to a lighter tone as the bird ages, this
species varies very slightly.

THE HERRING GULL.

(Larus argentatus.)

Mate: Summer plumage—The bill is pure
yellow ; patch on the lower mandible rich orange ;
iris pale yellow; edges of eyelids yellow. The
head, neck, upper tail coverts, and tail are white.
Back and wings light bluish-grey, some of the outer
primaries greyish-black ; all the quills tipped with
white; lower parts white. Legs and feet flesh-
coloured. Length, from bill to end of tail, twenty-
three inches.

The female is similar to the male.

In winter the head and neck are streaked with
pale brown; the rest of plumage as in summer.

The young have the bill brownish-black; head
and neck dirty white, streaked with grey brown;
upper parts mottled with dull brown and brownish-
white ; quills greyish-black ; tail same colour, except
at the base, where it is barred with white; legs
and feet purplish flesh colour.

THE ICELAND GULL.

(Larus leucopterus.)

Mave.—The bill yellow ; patch on lower mandible
orange red. Head and neck white, streaked with

pale brown; rump and tail white. The back and
Y

322 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN

wings light bluish-grey ; quills all white at the end;
lower parts white; legs and feet flesh-coloured.
Length, from bill to end of tail, thirty inches.

Younc.—The bill yellowish-grey at the base;
brownish-black towards the end; ground-colour of
plumage drab, streaked on the head and neck with
brown. Upper parts irregularly barred; and the
lower barred and mottled in a very confused manner
with white and pale brown. Legs and feet flesh-
coloured.

In hard weather this northern giant, the Burgo-
master, occasionally visits us, but rarely in the adult
state, more frequently in immature plumage. This
and the White-winged Gull, or Lesser Iceland Gull
(Larus leucopterus)—a bird very often mistaken for
its larger relative—are the North Sea Gulls of the
shooters.

THE COMMON GULL.

(Larus canus.)

Mate.—In summer plumage the bill is greenish-
yellow ; eyelids vermilion. Head and neck pure
white; back and wings light bluish-grey. The
quills in part black, largely tipped with white ;
lower parts pure white. In the winter the head
and hind-neck are marked with brownish streaks
and spots; the rest of the plumage as in summer.
Legs and feet are deep greenish-grey. Length,
from bill to end of tail, eighteen inches.

The female is similar to the male.

THE GULL FAMILY 323

Younc.—The bill flesh-coloured at the base,
brownish-black towards the end; eyelids dusky;
head and neck dirty white, streaked with dull brown.
Upper parts mottled with dull brown and brownish-
white; lower parts white, spotted with brown;
quills brownish-black; tail white, with a bar of
black at the end; legs and feet purplish flesh-

coloured.

THE BROWN-HOODED GULL.

(Larus ridibundus.)

Mate.—The bill and eyelids are carmine ; iris
brown. Head and throat deep brown, on the hind-
part brownish-black. Back and wings light bluish-
grey. Some of the quills are marked with black,
the tips being white. Upper tail coverts and tail
white; lower parts white; legs and feet carmine.
Length, from bill to end of tail, sixteen inches.

The female is similar to the male.

In the winter the dark brown hood is lost; a few
faint grey marks on the head, a blackish crescent
before the eye, and a patch behind it, only indicate
where the hood has been. The other parts of the
plumage, bill, and feet are as in the breeding plumage
given above.

INDEX

Auk, Little, 285, 288
Avocet, 75; on Romney Marsh, 76;
description of plumage, 93

Bittern, Common, 123; nest of, 123;
local names, 124; haunts of, 126 ;
on Essex side of the marshes, 128 ;
description of plumage, 1 30

Bittern, Little, 129

Bustard, Great, 13 some of its old
haunts, 2, 3, 53 running down of,
3; food of, 5; description of
plumage, 6

Bustard, Little, 5,7

Coot, 154; good to eat, 155; descrip-
tion of, 159

Cormorant, Common, 303; trained to
catch fish for owners, 306, 308

Cormorant, Green, 309

Crake, Baillon’s, 141, 157

Crake, Corn, 143; local names, 143;
birds bagged in Sussex, 145; de-
scription of, 158

Crake, Little, 142, 158

Crake, Spotted, 141, 157

Curlew, 62—69 ; description of, 70

Curlew, Stone, or Thick-knee, 9—15

Diver, Black-throated, 291, 297

Diver, Great Northern, 290, 296

Diver, Red-throated, 293, 298

Dotterel, Common, 20, 22, 23

Duck, Common Wild, or Mallard, 183;
half-bred, 184; flight-shooting,
186—188 ; duck decoys, 189—196 ;
habits of, 189, 190; an old coy-
man of the North Kent marshes,
196—199; feeding of, 202— 204 ;
a ballad from ‘‘Fen and Mere,”
205, 206 ; plumage of, 206, 207

Duch, Eider, 244; female Eider shot
on a Surrey moor, 246; plumage,
etc., 251

Duck, Pintatl, 220—225 ; description
of, 227

Duck, Scaup, 274—280, 282

Dunlin, 46; shore-shooting, 49—54;
plumage, etc., 59

Gadwall, 230, 247

Gannet, 307, 308, 310

Garganey, see Teal

Godwit, Bar-tailed, 72, 91

Godwit, Black-tailed, 73, 91

Goliden-eye, 232, 247

ase pl 252—254; plumage, etc.,
25 :

Goose, Bean, ‘* Wild goose” of shore-
shooters, 165, 17

Goose, Bernacle, 166 ;
167, 174

Goose, Brent, 167; ; old shore-shooters
in quest ‘of, 169—172; plumage,
etc., 174

Goose, Greylag, 164, 165, 173

Goose, Pink-footed, 166, 173

Goose, White-fronted, 166, 174

Grebe, Eared, 302

Grebe, Great Crested, 294, 295; de-
scription of, 300

Grebe, Horned, 3Ol

Grebe, Red-neched, 301

Greenshank, 775 nesting ‘habits of,
78; plumage of, 94

Guillemot, 284, 287, 288

Gull, Brown-hooded, 323

Gull, Common, 317, 322

Gull, Great Black-backed, 311 —314

Gull, Herring, 316, 321

Gull, Iceland, 318, 321

Gull, Lesser Black-backed, 314, 315

‘«Hell-hounds,”

326

Hareld, Long-tailed, 234, 248

Licron, Common, 117 ; heron-hawking,
118, 119, 122

Heron, Night, 22, 122

Heron, Purple, 122

Knot, 43, 58

Lapwing, Common, or Pewtt, 27;
rooks feeding on eggs of, 28, 35

Mallard, 183, 206, 207

Merganser, Hooded, 256, 259

Merganser, Red-breasted, 254, 255, 259

Moorhen, 147 ; nest of, 149; plumage,
etc., 159

Oyster-catcher, or Sea-pie, 31, 37

Pewit, see Lapwing

Phalarope, Grey, 73, 92

Phalarope, Red-neched, 74; nest of,
75, 92

Plover, Common, Ringed, 22—27, 34

Plover, Golden, 18—20, 32

Plover, Grey, 16—18, 32

Plover, Kentish, 35

Plover, Little Ringed, 35

Pochard, Red-headed, 270—274 ; great
catch of, 273, 281

Pochard, Tufted, 229, 246

Puffin, 286, 289

Rail, Water, 134—141, 156
Razor-bill, Common, 286, 288

INDEX

Redshank, 79; «a breeding haunt of,
80, 82, 94
Ruff and Reeve, 383—42

Sanderling, 48, 56, 57, 60

Sandpiper, Common, 85—90, 96

Sandpiper, Curlew-billed, 47, 55, 60

Sandpiper, Green, 82—84, 95

Sandpiper, Purple, 44—46, 59

Sandpiper, Wood, 85, 96

Scoter, Common, 235—242, 249

Scoter, Surf, 243, 250

Scoter, Velvet, 243, 244, 249

Sheld-duck, 176—182

Shoveller, 225, 228

Smew, locally named Weasel-headed
Wigeon, 257, 260, 261

Snipe, Common, 107—I110, 114.

Snipe, Great, 106, 107, 114

Snipe, Jack-snipe, 1I—115

Spoonbill, White, 132, 133

Stilt, Black-winged, 77, 93

Stints, 46, 56

Stints, Little, 56

Swan, Bewick’s, 162, 163

Swan, Whooping, 161—163

Teal, 208—212, 217
Teal, Garganey, 212—217, 218
Turnstone, 30, 36

Whimbrel, 69, 71

Wigeon, 262—270, 281

Woodcock, 983—106 ; two Woodcocks
killed at one shot by Chantrey, 105

Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay.