302 BIRDS, BEASTS, AND FISHES 



old in the nesting season, for the season is long, three nests 

 being built if the early eggs be robbed. 



I will tell you of a tragedy witnessed by a reliable gunner,* 

 who was beating the marshes in search of eggs one July. 



The day had been hot, the heavy air full of midges that 

 stung, raising great lumps on the faces of the unseasoned, 

 when the sky to the westward turned black as ink, and a 

 few flashes of lightning played vividly across the inky pall — 

 the landscape looked dull and lowering, as if the deluge was 

 coming, for heavy rain had begun to fall, though the sun 

 was shining brightly on the marsh at his feet — when sud- 

 denly a glorious rainbow burst forth, its many-coloured 

 streamers rising from a distant group of trees, and a sharp 

 wind squall rent the reed-beds, making the sail in a wherry- 

 volley like thunder as it shook its thick folds. After the 

 " roger " and " low " had passed, a bright after-glow lit 

 the scene, and the fenman went harrying the marshes for 

 eggs, passing on his journey a clump of long gladen shooves 

 drawn on the bank, and resembling the bodies of drowned 

 maidens with drooping, lifeless heads, when he suddenly 

 stopped. An old "buzzard," as they call the marsh harrier, 

 was beating the marsh, busy hunting for eggs and young 

 birds. As the bird drew near, he saw it suddenly sweep 

 down into the marsh-stuff, where it was lost to view. Taking 

 his mark, hunter-like, he skirted a reed-bed, and suddenly came 

 upon the gloomy buzzard eating a hen red-shank, and there 

 close by were her eggs, hot and shiny. 



The harrier had seized her from her nest, and the cries of 

 distress of the sentinel cock were accounted for. Sometimes, 

 too, you will come upon a " lone bird," or widow, with no 

 sentinel ; he has been killed by a smart gunner or prowling 

 bird or beast of prey. Still she does her duty, and rears the 

 young brood unaided. 



* One gunner followed a family migrating from a marsh on the sea-side of 

 Waxham Church to Hickling Broad, and in a turnip-field he tried hard to 

 find the young, but could not see one. 



