78 



SPRING 



and streaks of golden break above the horizon and change 

 from fiery red to paler yellow, even until the full glory of the 

 day appears. The least shuffle of the feet sets all the little 

 sedge-warblers off singing their rough ditties, whilst moor- 

 hen croak notes of astonishment, and the grebes hard by 

 cluck their annoyance at the disturbance. There are other 

 cries — there is the crake of a water-rail, the screech of an owl 

 in the wood yonder, the call of a night-prowling heron that 

 breaks harshly on the ear like the wail of a ghostly wanderer. 



OYSTERCATCHERS 



Those who have attempted sleep during a night on the broads 

 will certainly be awakened by such strange night noises. 



Otters are much more likely to be heard than seen, though 

 their traces are evident. You might see now and then the 

 tail end of a big tench, or a bit of an eel, — they are fond 

 of big eels — you might even observe the sedges trampled 

 where they landed, but so wary are they, that even the 

 marshmen can seldom catch sight of one landing. In one 

 place where a pair had three or four young at a litter it 

 became a standing marvel how they managed to bring them 

 up in secret ; and the anglers who grumbled about the 

 number of fish killed in the neighbourhood never penetrated 

 the secret. When day first comes how many birds are seen 



