122 BIRDS OP NORFOLK. 



and a few bats, still flitting about in the uncertain light, 

 seem the last link of connection betwixt night and day. 

 A few minutes later and the reed and sedge birds com- 

 mence singing again in all directions, and continue so 

 for more than an hour. Then the black-headed bunting 

 begins his note ; cocks are crowing from the neighbour- 

 ing farms, and an early train rumbling over the bridges 

 probably scares, with its shrUl whistle, the two ducks 

 which come high over our heads directly afterwards. — 

 3 a.m. The morning star still shining in the bright blue 

 sky, streaked with purple and fleecy clouds. The martins 

 leaving the reeds in flocks, and spreading themselves 

 over the broad to feed on the myriads of flies and midges 

 that rise at every step from the dewy marshes. Cuckoos 

 singing in every direction, and the reed birds as noisy 

 as if tlieir rest had never been broken during the night. 

 Two or three herons rise lazily from the water's edge as 

 we come suddenly upon them, with the boat, round a 

 projecting reed bed. Corn-crakes answering one another 

 with their peculiar notes, and water-hens and coots 

 crying at intervals. — 4 a.m. Large fish rising at the flies 

 on the open water. A bright blue sky, but the sun 

 hidden behind a bank of clouds, indicative rather of wet 

 later in the day. First large flight of starlings leaving 

 the reeds, though stragglers have been rising since the 

 beginning of daylight. A redshank calling from a gate- 

 post on one of the drier marshes, and walking back- 

 wards and forwards along the top rail. Two common 

 terns, hovering over the river, are fishing as they pass 

 on their way towards Yarmouth. The next hour is 

 devoted to an al fresco breakfast, with sundry prepara- 

 tions for a speedy start, then a quick row down the 

 river to catch the first train for home, and our trip 

 is reckoned amongst the '^•'pleasures of memory." 



Attractive as these localities are, both to the sports- 

 man and naturalist by day, the latter, at least, can never 



