Some Haunts of the Snipe, 53 



up the valley, we begin to see what real 

 snipe - ground is like. We are here on a 

 level with the river^ in some places indeed 

 below it, and the intervening half-mile is 

 one monotonous flat of long, scraggy water- 

 grass, the considerable intervals between the 

 stems occupied by soft but shallow mud. 

 And now the fun begins. At every step 

 snipe rise, for the most part pretty wild, 

 though a good shot would be able to take 

 fair toll of them. An occasional Jack flits 

 away, and no doubt we leave many behind, 

 which would be bagged if we had a dog to 

 show us where they lurked. 



After half a mile we arrive where a stream 

 from the hills enters the main river through 

 a perfect forest of reeds and rushes. A 

 paddling of duck makes off at our approach, 

 warned by the gruff voice of an old heron, 

 who had certainly spotted us from the moment 

 we entered the moor. The creek is too wide 

 for us to cross here, so we must turn up- 

 stream until we find stepping-stones. But 

 all that bright green weed that chokes the 



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