198 The Irish Nahifalist, October, 



Friday^ September 20th. — The morning sun shone so 

 brightly that I resolved once more to repair to ni}' studio 

 at the open window at Breanaskill, and work the telephoto- 

 graphic camera. The scene on the slob-land was beautiful. 

 The shallow sand-pools and gullies left by the receding tide 

 were absolutely tranquil, and, like mirrors, reflected the im- 

 ages of hundreds of shore-birds, w^hich, still and listless, were 

 enjo3ing the genial weather of early autumn. 



But ere many photographs w^ere secured, the scene began 

 to change; a mist went up from the \vater, which enveloping 

 the birds, rendered them indistinct, as though their material 

 forms were being reduced to vapour. I have noticed this 

 curious effect on several occasions on the extensive slob-lands 

 of Dublin Ba}-. The heat-mist arising from perfectly smooth 

 waters seems to carr}^ the birds upwards, and, while not ex- 

 cluding them from view to any extent, seems to transfigure 

 them into gaseous, ghost-like, avian forms. 



At last the opportunity came to take a few photographs. 



Only a hundred yards off, a pig appeared on the foreshore, 

 and commenced to root with its snout at some garbage ; a 

 Hooded Crow, which happened to be perched on the top of 

 a ha3'-cock close by, attracted b\' the loud grunts, perceived 

 the pig trespassing on its preserves. Without hesitation, the 

 bird quitted the field, and, perching on a stone beside the 

 garbage, gave forth such hoarse, angry cries, and made so 

 many attempts to peck, that the lumbering animal was con- 

 tent to move along the beach in search of food. I obtained 

 several photographs of this amusing scene. Anyone who 

 witnessed it must have sympathised with the poor Crow, in 

 finding, to his dismay, a live pig demolishing his store of 

 refuse on the beach, instead of a dead one contributing to it. 



Having indulged in a mid-day dip and some lunch, I put up 

 the camera and started along the shore for a ramble. I have 

 always had a predilection for watching about old walls, 

 especially when built of loosely piled-up stones, knowing such 

 to be a favourite run of the Stoat, a little creature which I 

 take the greatest delight in observing. On the beach, adjoin- 

 ing Mr. Williams' house, such a wall was to be found, and, as 

 I strolled along leisurely, enjoying an afternoon pipe, m}' little 

 friend — indeed a very big one of its kind — showed itself. 



