!<'> Thorpe Mere 



thing disturbs them, or they have exhausted their feeding-ground, 

 and they rise with a call-note that is absolutely characteristic. 



Just at that moment, rising on their own initiative, or in response 

 to the alarm-note of the Turnstones, a mixed flock of small birds 

 dashes over your punt, wheels, turns back over you again, and then 

 settles further down the mere. Note how the whole flock simul- 

 taneously changes colour, from dark to light in the sunshine, as they 

 turn their backs or their white breasts towards you. Those are 

 Dunlins, and with them — as you can tell by their note — are a few 

 Ringed Plover. 



On the spot from which they rose, there is still a solitary bird. 

 This your gunner is doubtful about. At first he had taken it to 

 be a Sanderling, but, after a look through the glasses, thinks it is a 

 Ringed Plover, though he is puzzled by the fact that it did not join 

 the others in the flock. He pushes the punt up a side drain, so as to 

 get a nearer view, and, as he hands the glasses back to you, whispers 

 " Kentish Plover — and the first I have seen for three seasons." 



Look at him ; a handsome bird, with back of nearly uniform 

 grey, a white breast, on which is a black band that fails to meet in 

 the middle, so that the white of his underparts is continuous from 

 chin to vent, and his legs are lead-coloured. He is very like the 

 common Ringed Plover, but his incomplete gorget, and his lead- 

 coloured legs betray him — a very rare bird in these parts. A little 

 beyond him is a small lot of eight or nine birds — absolutely 

 distinctive — perhaps the most beautiful of all our Waders in summer 

 dress. You see at a glance that they are Plover,* and most of them 

 seem to be in full breeding plumage — black as jet on their under- 

 parts, with chequered backs and startlingly white eyebrows, they 

 stand out very clearly against their background of grey mud. 



Push the punt towards them till they rise, and then listen to 

 their call-note, which is unmistakable when once heard. Your 

 gunner whistles their call-note, they answer him uneasily, and then, 

 refusing to be beguiled, make off in a north-westerly direction, 

 presumably to the river. 



As you push on, one or two grey flapping Herons rise, with loud 

 cries of " Frank." Next, you are attracted by a great outcry from 

 a flock of gulls, who seem to be mobbing and worrying some birds, 

 of which you can only just catch a glimpse, as they are in the bottom 

 of a side drain, and nearly out of sight. 



After some manoeuvring you get a view of the persecuted 

 objects — two long-legged, white birds, with yellow ruffles and broad 

 bills, with spoon-shaped ends, marching up and down the shallow 

 water of the drain, slashing their bills from side to side in the water, 

 rapidly sifting and retaining anything edible. These are a pair 

 of Spoonbills, uncommon but not very rare visitors, and unlike 

 most of the rarer Waders, more often seen in the spring than in the 

 autumn migration. 



* Grey Plover. — Editor. 



