THE PEEWIT OR PI WIPE 279 



field — dear to them. I have seen the young begin their 

 flightings or wanderings as early as the eighth day of 

 July, flighting to the uplands at dusk, and returning to 

 the water-side at dawn to wash themselves and feed, thus 

 reversing the usual order of water-flightings. And at this 

 season, if you are fond of the fens, you shall know the old 

 from the young on the darkest nights by their voices — the 

 old birds' call being mellower and more rounded ; the young 

 scions of the flock giving hoarser voice. And you shall hear, 

 too, the leader — for they always have a leader when flying 

 in flocks — who is an old cock, full of experience and wary. 

 And when the equinox fills the North Sea with cod, fresh 

 flocks come over the rain-swept seas ; and even in the marsh- 

 lands the air is full of flocks of peewits, starlings, rooks, 

 and golden plover, swept across the sky in ever changing 

 patterns by the fierce gales. And these, after Michaelmas, 

 too resume their evening flightings to the uplands — once 

 more being turned up by the plough — and feed upon the 

 worms, returning at daybreak to their beloved marshes 

 or the cold sea-beaches ; but they very rarely go to the 

 beaches if there be good marshland between the upland 

 and the sea. And at this season the fenman is ever on 

 their flighting line, and many a " piwipe dumpHng " is 

 cooked by his goodwife, after she has laid the " bahd " in salt 

 and water for a night — and thus is the Englishman wiser 

 than the Scotsman, whom I have often seen turn his nose 

 up and draw down the corners of his mouth in disgust when 

 I talked of shooting and eating a tiichet. Yet we used 

 to "size " for them in the old days at Cambridge — "green 

 plover — Qd." 



But soon the harsh breath of winter 'gins to blow over the 

 flat land, and the birds grow restless, moving about the marsh- 

 lands, an augury of coming frost ; and the fenman's heart is 

 happy when his friends do not leave, for the augury assures 

 him the frost "ain't going ter last." Nor does it; for these 

 sensitive livina: barometers seem to know full well when hard 



