CHAPTER IX 



A TIRED TRAVELLER 



(Turdus iliacus) 



A November day on the east coast — A solitary redwing — Charm 

 of the redwing — Its evening concerts — The redwing solilo- 

 quises — Its beauty — A meditation on death. 



IT was fine weather on the morning of the first 

 day of November on the east coast. Coming out, 

 I looked for grey clouds travelling before a biting 

 wind, a grey clammy mist brooding on the flat desolate 

 land, and found, instead, a clear day without a vapour, 

 the sun shining very brightly, the air almost still and 

 deliciously warm. It was, for November, the most 

 perfect day I could have had for a ramble on the 

 grey flat saltings between Wells-next-the-Sea and 

 Stiffkey: they are not as in summer at this time of 

 year, but have the compensating charm of solitari- 

 ness. I had them all to myself on that morning; 

 there was no sound of human life except the church 

 bells, the chimes coming faintly and musically over 

 the wide marshes. Even the birds were few. From 

 time to time a hooded or carrion crow flew by with 

 his sullen cra-cra, or a ringed dotterel started up 

 from a creek or pool before me and went away with 

 his wild melancholy cry. Only the larks were singing 

 everywhere about me; but it was their winter song 



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