32 On the Guadalquiver. 



Besides many patches of tall reeds here and there in the 

 marsh, there were several long dykes very thickly grown 

 with reeds as high as small trees. These dykes resounded 

 with the hoarse and incessant croaking of great reed warblers 

 — small brown birds with loud harsh voices. As mentioned 

 in my first article these birds are difficult to see. Although 

 bold enough when in cover — for they will cackle into one's 

 ear at a yard's distance — they leave their retreats only to 

 flit out and in again, and it is impossible to do more than 

 catch a passing glimpse of them when amongst the waving 

 reeds. We managed to beat some of them out and so get 

 specimens, and we also found their beautiful nests, made of 

 the flower of the reed and woven round four or five stems. 

 Fastened in this way on the reeds they sway with every 

 gust of wind, but the cup of the nest is so deep that the 

 eggs are safe from falling out. 



Whilst exploring one of these dykes in search of the 

 great reed warbler, we saw a little bittern,* a black and 

 creamy- white bird rather larger than a waterhen, run into 

 a thick mass of reeds. We surrounded the spot, and 

 eventually managed to drive the bird from its hiding place, 

 but it ran past us like a rat and was up the bank of the 

 dyke before we could move. We rushed to the top just in 

 time to see it flying across to a reedy swamp, and thither 

 we quietly followed it. Just as we reached the reeds 

 another little bittern flew out. We shot at it but only 

 succeeded in wounding it. The bird flew a short distance 

 and then perched on a reed, gripping it firmly with one 

 foot above the other. As we approached, the bittern pointed 

 its bill straight up into the air, and stretched up its neck 

 and body until it was long and attenuated and resembled a 



* Ardetta minuta. 



