CHAPTER LXXXIV 



GOLDEN PLOVER 



October gales bring the golden plover to the Broadland, 

 gales in which this bird, like the peewit, delights; for you 

 may see them playing in a gale of wind, flying up and drop- 

 ping, enjoying themselves as a good sailor enjoys a stiff 

 breeze — when his ship is ail alive. The golden plover is 

 a marsh-bird, for there he finds worms, as does the peewit 

 — food on which he lives and grows rich for the table ; for 

 there is no better bird on toast than the golden plover. 



On the winter marshland you may see large flocks, some- 

 times numbering two hundred, feeding quietly with peewits, 

 but never scattered about, generally eating in close clumps. 



At night they flight, flying low and swiftly to the land. 

 By day, too, they will flight, whistling as they go, a curious 

 whistle with a break in it, like a toy-whistle ; and you may 

 on such occasions see them with necks well drawn back into 

 their bodies, whizzing through the clear blue air, often flying 

 over your boat. 



When they are feeding on the green marshland, they will 

 at times allow you to approach quite close, for they are 

 filled with curiosity, and are therefore not difficult of ap- 

 proach. The gunner knows this, and walks down to leeward, 

 as if he were going to pass them unmolested ; but he does 

 not, " monster " that he is. The gunner, too, makes more 

 capital of this curiosity ; for he knows that, like many fowl, 

 the golden plover likes a dog, so he turns his dog out on to 

 the marshes, and they draw up to the dog, following the 

 beast as he returns to his master, who lies hidden behind a 



