52 Wild Birds and their Haunts 



Before long I knew where to look for the birds, and 

 could mimic their cries — the shriek of the curlew and his 

 mournful whistle, the Peewit (Vanellus cristatus), and the 

 note of the Stone Curlew (Edicnemus crepitans), or thick- 

 knee (called in the marshes " the king of the curlews "). 

 I had plenty of room to move about, and no one interfered 

 with me or the birds. The Bird Preservation Act was not 

 thought of at that time. The plover's eggs were left for 

 the bird to hatch, and if the young were picked up just to 

 look at they would be gently put down again. Bird and 

 egg-collectors had not reached our neighbourhood then. 

 The miles of marshland teemed with bird-life. When the 

 gun was used it was for the wild fowl proper — geese, duck, 

 widgeon, teal — but the waders that gave life to the dreary- 

 looking pools were little troubled, for powder and shot 

 with the fishermen meant money. When they fired at a 

 bird they shot at something that would do for dinner. 



I had watched the life on the marshes at all hours of 

 day and night — in the early morning, when the mist rolled 

 over the lands and the scattered poplars and stunted 

 willows took strange shapes, while the red hares flicked 

 the wet off their hind feet as they sat on the mole hillocks, 

 and at midday, when the gulls left the sea to come to the 

 hollow marsh pools to bathe and rest — a pretty sight. 

 With them would be seen the peewits and Red-legged 

 Sand-pipers (Scolopax cahdris). One would hear them, 

 too — the cackle of the gulls, the ' ' pewit, pewit," of the 

 green plover, and the scream of the redshank. In the 

 evening flight after flight of starlings made their way 

 over the flats to meet in one vast host to go through their 

 drill before settling for the night in the reeds. At one 

 particular hour of the afternoon, in summer — between 

 five and six o'clock — the marshes shone in a golden light, 

 which tinted all things far and near (just such a tone as 

 Cuyp gave to his marsh scenes), and, to complete the 

 picture, one saw the men-o'-war, frigates, and sloops 

 off the mouth of Medway in the distance. Turner visited 

 our marshes and painted some of his famous pictures 

 from what he saw there, to wit, "Stangate Creek," 

 " Shrimping Sands," and " Off Sheerness." 



