MIDNIGHT ON THE OOZES 321 



Then, soon after dark, in their thousands the duck-tribe 

 pour in from the sea, and by midnight the erst deserted 

 oozes teem with wild bird-life. 



At first we are only on the fringe of the feathered 

 hosts — among the stragglers, single ducks, twos and 

 threes. The tide being still low, these scattered birds 

 were most difficult to discern (even were there any 

 object to serve by seeing them), since they are feeding 

 among the loose stones and drift bunches of sea-weed 

 which strew the shore. They, in fact, usually detect 

 us before we become aware of their proximity, which 

 we only learn by the frantic quack, flutter and splash, 

 as they spring from the slob within a few yards. The 

 main bodies are, during low tide, so straggled about, 

 feeding, as seldom to offer a tempting shot ; over and 

 over again we discern in the moonlight little bunches — 

 fours, sixes, and eights — swimming on the white water, 

 or dabbling on the ooze, and within half-gunshot. 

 " Won't you take that lot, sir?" whispers my companion ; 

 "there's nine together, all of a clump!" But I did not 

 intend spending a winter's night at sea for a possible nine, 

 and decided to hold on and await the more promising 

 chance when the rising tide should have concentrated 

 those scattered units into solid battalions. Moreover, 

 except for a fairly heavy shot, one is reluctant to dispel 

 the charm of the wild sounds and sights around us. 



Now the ooze and the moonlit water ahead are 

 alive with sprightly, active forms, feeding, playing, and 

 revelling in a well-founded security ; while the dark skies 

 reverberate with the swish, swish of strong pinions as 

 fresh "trips" pass and re-pass above. The variety of 

 bird-notes and their musical intonations, to an appreciative 

 ear, offer no small compensation for the hardships or dis- 



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