38 



It now becomes evident that the character of the 

 day has changed. A cold wind has sprung up and 

 the sun only shines fitfully through the driving masses 

 of cloud, while to windward the sky has turned into a 

 uniform dirty grey hue. Snow seems probable, and it 

 seems the best policy to retrace our steps, so we 

 accordingly turn back. High overhead the wailing 

 cry of a Curlew accentuates the general effect of 

 dreariness which the landscape now assumes. A Red- 

 shank appears from the other side of the long osier 

 bed, and crosses the now leaden -hued river a good 

 way ahead. For a long distance now we see no bird 

 of interest, and hear no noise, save the shivering and 

 rustling of the dead reeds under the chilly wind, but 

 just before we reach the ferry a flock of Peewits flap 

 along over head uttering their plaintive notes. 



Continuing our way by a path the other side of 

 the Ouse, the laughing cry or yelp of the Green Wood- 

 pecker rings out among some elm trees, and the bird 

 itself flies across the road to some old willows, whose 

 decaying trunks will no doubt afford him a profitable 

 field of research. We now turn up a lane bordered on 

 one side by a high hedge, the resort of numerous 

 Blackbirds and Thrushes, and at this season also of 

 Fieldfares and Redwings, who take heavy toll of its 

 berries. On glancing over the dyke on the other side 

 to where the meadows stretch away toward the river 

 we notice two Herons get under way with heavy flaps 

 of their great wings. Proceeding, we now draw near a 

 favourite haunt of Goldfinches, but are disappointed 

 by seeing none. However there is some compensation 

 to be had in the sight of a splendid cock Bullfinch 

 who flits along the hedge in front. Against the brown 



