pagha:m. 9 



and the melancholy note of the peewit from the 

 distant swamp, have mingled with the scream of 

 the tern and the tauntinor lauoh of the oull. 



Here have I watched the oyster-catcher, as he 

 flew from point to point, and cautiously waded 

 into the shallow water ;* and the patient heron, 

 that pattern of a fisherman, as with retracted 

 neck, and eyes fixed on vacancy, he has stood 

 for hours without a single snap, motionless as a 

 statue. Here, too, have I pursued the guillemot, 

 or craftily endeavoured to cut off the retreat of 

 the diver, by mooring my boat across the narrow 

 passage through which alone he could return to 

 the open sea without having recourse to his re- 

 luctant wings. Nor can I forget how often 

 during the Siberian winter of 1838, when "a 

 whole gale,'' as the sailors have it, has been blow- 

 ing from the north-east, I used to take up my 

 position on the long and narrow ridge of shingle 

 which separated this paradise from the raging 

 waves without, and sheltered behind a hillock of 



* Some persons, I am aware, argue that as the oyster- 

 catcher can swim he need not wade. I have never seen 

 him swim except when wounded and pursued into deep 

 water. jMr. Dunn, an accurate observer and author of 

 the " Ornithologist's Guide to Orkney and Shetland," 

 says that he " has never seen the oyster-catcher take 

 the water from choice." 



B 5 



