WILD WINGS: A FAREWELL 305 



hanging just above the low, black roofs of Wells, 

 with the square church tower in the middle. The 

 whole vast aerial army streamed by directly over 

 me and over their wounded fellow below, still stand- 

 ing statuesque and conspicuous on the brown, level 

 marsh. In two or three minutes more the leading 

 birds were directly above the roosting-place on the 

 flat sands, and at this point they paused and remained 

 stationary in mid-air, or slowly circled round, still 

 keeping at the same height; and as others and still 

 others joined them, the whole formation was gradu- 

 ally broken up, skeins and phalanxes becoming merged 

 in one vast cloud of geese, circling round like a cloud 

 of gulls. Then the descent began, a few at a time 

 detaching themselves from the throng and sweeping 

 obliquely downwards, while others, singly or in small 

 parties, with half-closed wings appeared to hurl 

 themselves towards earth with extraordinary violence. 

 This marvellous wild-wing display continued for four 

 or five minutes before the entire multitude had come 

 to the ground. Altogether it had been the most 

 magnificent spectacle in wild-bird life I had ever 

 witnessed in England. 



It was not until all were down and invisible, and 

 the tumult of the multitudinous cries had sunk to 

 silence, that the wounded bird, after some moments 

 of indecision, first taking a few steps onwards, then 

 returning to the side of the redshanks, as if reluc- 

 tant to part from those little unhelpful friends lest 

 he should find no others, finally set off walking 

 towards the sea. 



