14 Thorpe Mere 



breeding season ; for those birds hatched in England would retuin 

 to England to breed. 



Observation through glasses is not enough, in my opinion, to 

 establish the identity of a small and rare Wader, unless the conditions 

 are very exceptional. The call or alarm note, on the other hand, 

 is valuable evidence, provided that the observer has a good ear, 

 and is perfectly familiar with the bird. 



Personally, I am familiar with the notes of our own Waders, 

 and therefore at once, notice any strange call. But beyond the fact, 

 that the note is new to me and the size of the bird gives some help 

 towards a rough classification, I am no nearer determining its species 

 until I have it in my hand. 



To return to our day's observation of a spring migration. 

 It is the twelfth of May, and you have turned out of bed, as the 

 enthusiast should, just before daylight. Early morning is, of course, 

 the best time for observing all birds, Waders included. Fresh 

 arrivals have dropped in during the night ; they are busy feeding 

 undisturbed, and are far tamer and easier to observe than they will 

 be later in the day. At the same time. Waders are accommodating 

 birds, and if the enthusiast doesn't like early rising, he may see a 

 fair number of birds at any time of day if the tide is suitable — for, 

 remember, that the feeding time of Waders, by day or night, will 

 vary with the ebb and flow of the tide ; that is, with the alternating 

 exposure and covering of their feeding grounds. This rule applies 

 to tidal flats rather than to the Thorpe Mere ; for the mere, being 

 non-tidal,* is often at its best when the tide is high in the Aldeburgh 

 river, and the birds, unable to feed any longer there, come flocking 

 on to the mere, to wait till such time as the river-flats are again 

 exposed. 



You meet your local pilot, who is waiting for you with a punt, 

 and pole gently up the main drain, dignified by the name of " the 

 river," listening as you go, for there is hardly enough light yet to 

 distinguish any birds very distinctly. 



As you float along, you hear, far overhead, the bubbling cry 

 of Whimbrel, and the answering cry of others still further away, 

 but all at such a height as to make it certain they are bound for some 

 other district ; and gradually the sound dies away, ever getting 

 further and further south. 



Then, as the punt passes slowly onwards, you spy a single Red- 

 shank ; rather strange that he should be so far away from the 

 nesting Redshanks ; possibly he is an outcast or a sulky old bachelor. 



After waiting — swaying and bending his body, and softly 

 uttering his melancholy call-note — he suddenly rises in darting 

 curves, screaming ' murder ' at the top of his voice. The silent mere 

 wakes up ; Redshanks rise from all parts, each calling more voci- 

 ferously than the other. With them rise nearly all the birds in the 

 neighbourhood ; quite near you a small bunch of Curlew, that 



*i.c., That part uOiich is not flooded from the sea through The Haven. — Editor. 



