140 Wild Birds and their Haunts 



to rise in that manner, and by kneeling it would be just 

 as difficult. What very much enhances the unpleasant- 

 ness of a position of this kind, is the knowledge that the 

 tide must sooner or later come up and drown you. 



This miserable fate of death by inches attends the 

 uncautious night wildfowler who, under any circum- 

 stances, wanders too far from his punt and is unable to 

 regain it ; and with a flowing tide it is almost impos- 

 sible to recognise its position, however carefully marked 

 beforehand. Conceive him leaving his home in the 

 winter evening, well victualled (that is, within ; for a 

 gunning punt is not quite the place for taking supper 

 in), and rigged out with such garments as you see in 

 tubs before the doors of great London waterproof cloth- 

 ing shops ; by no means careless of wind and weather 

 (since it is useless to go on such an excursion in a wind, 

 because the birds cannot be seen for the ripples), but 

 well provided against cold and wet. Placing himself 

 at full length in his small flat-bottomed vessel, he 

 directs his movements according to the position of light 

 and shadow, keeping his punt on the dark side of the 

 moon, and cautiously approaching the spot to which, by 

 the different notes and calls of the aquatic birds, his 

 attention is courteously invited. He moves quite noise- 

 lessly, for he knows that wildfowl, whether sleeping or 

 feeding, have always sentinels watching, so that the 

 slightest indication of his approach will be at once com- 

 municated to the whole body. If he hears birds on the 

 outer or wrong side of the moon (as he frequently will), 

 he must not be tempted to set towards them, but must 

 row in a contrary direction, and work his course so as to 

 bring them into a proper light between the punt and the 

 moon, although he may have to spend an hour on the 

 tedious toil. 



The tide is coming in with a slight breeze, and the 

 ripple darkens the deep water. Such of the oozes, too, 

 as remain uncovered look pitchy dark enough, but the 

 shallows show a silvery whiteness ; on these, to the very 

 last, the waterfowl will delay, crowding, perhaps, on 

 one small mound, from which they will not budge till 



