A WEEK IN BROADLAND. 219 



the Ant. I looked longingly at the good land we were leaving ; 

 but my friends were eager to be at Barton regatta next day, and 

 we passed through Ludham Bridge before mooring — in a hope- 

 less locality which yielded nothing but a wonderful sunset over 

 a land veiled in snowy drifts of mist. 



An entomological friend had written saying that he had done 

 well on the banks of Stalham Dyke : so to Stalham we went next 

 day (August 3rd). Again we passed what looked ideal country, 

 to moor in a poorer place. But on the left hand side of the 

 dyke at its mouth there is a ragged piece of swamp, bordered 

 with reeds and studded with a few alders and sallows. Here I 

 landed and found the whole place alive with C. rufa. They were 

 fluttering up the grass and rushes in thousands. The place was 

 very wet, and about ten o'clock a thick white mist made further 

 collecting useless. About nine o'clock, however, I had secured a 

 single Pelosia muscerda, and besides had boxed all the Noctuae I 

 could not at once call Leiicania impura or L. yallens. On 

 examining these I found a fine typical Helotropha leucostigma, 

 but of Wainscots there were only very abraded specimens of 

 the two commonest species and L. litliargyria. 



Up to this point the days had been cloudless and gloriously 

 hot, the nights misty and decidedly cold. On Tuesday, August 

 4th, the weather looked like breaking : there was, as there had 

 been, a good breeze : but the sky was overcast and there was 

 thunder about. We moored at St. Benet's Abbey, just beyond 

 the mouth of the Ant. On the right bank of the river the reeds 

 had been cut to some distance from the water ; but on working 

 inland I found an isolated patch certainly not more than twenty 

 yards by five, uncut, but of small reeds. I reached this at about 

 8.15, and netted a Noctua which whirled past me ; on boxing it 

 in a glass-topped pill-box, I saw that it was L. hrevilinea. 

 Several more followed ; I lit my lamp, and as dusk came on the 

 sight was wonderful. Brevilinea swarmed, flying low over the 

 rushes. Standing still, I caught six in two sweeps of my net, 

 as they hovered over some attraction — probably a newly hatched 

 female. I soon filled the miserable two-dozen boxes, and was 

 reduced to bottling them. Unfortunately my bottle was weak, 

 and took some time to act. So I determined to return to the 

 boat, empty my boxes and sally out again. I did so, and came 

 out with as many as I had been able to empty, with an addition 

 of empty match-boxes, small bottles and cigarette tins. By now, 

 at ten o'clock, the first flight had quieted down, though many 

 were still on the wing. I examined the sallow and alder to see 

 if the insects resorted to them, as Mr. South in his ' Moths of 

 the British Isles ' reports. Probably there was an absence of 

 honeydew — certainly there were no hrevilinea. Among the reeds 

 they were easy to see, sitting about half-way up on the flat 

 blades ; I noticed none at the reed-flowers, or at any other 



