CHAPTER LXII 



THE OS PREY 



It was a bright May morning on the Broads, warm, with 

 a gentle breeze rippHng the still glassy mere, which was 

 a beautiful mosaic of colour, the blue waters being pied 

 with light pea-green patches of colour, sub-aqueous fields 

 of weedy lamb's-tail, where, in the spawning season, bream 

 and roach already had laid their eggs. The rudd were 

 rising, snatching the flies hovering above the blue wavelets, 

 leaving ever-widening rings upon their ridges. 



As I pushed out of a reed-bed, where I had spent the 

 morning watching for otters, the bright scene entranced 

 me, for though a familiar sight, it looked fresher than ever, 

 and the breezes blew cool after the close air of the reed- 

 jungle ; but I suddenly stopped, for there, sitting on a post 

 some hundred yards away, was a large bird having all the 

 appearance of a great horned owl, with a cast of the eagle 

 in its features. And at first I took it for an eagle, with its 

 bright head and breast shining in the sun, as it sat gazing 

 over the mere sleepily. But as I paddled near, it stretched 

 itself lazily, as a man does after a good dinner, in a superb 

 lingering way, stood on tip-toes, raised its long strong 

 wings languidly, and threw itself heavily into the blue air 

 with a few short screams. And when I saw the short tail, 

 and the slow, low, buzzard-like flight, I knew him for an 

 osprey — a bird that is often seen in spring, summer, and 

 autumn passing through, journeying afar from the tree- 

 covered crags where they nest. Indeed, I think many 

 of these birds do not nest for the first few years of 



