SHORE SHOOTING FROM A BOAT. 15 
quills are white. We noticed—and we had good opportunities of doing so, for 
we spent hours at the bar in zealous but vain endeavours to get a shot—that 
the majority of the Richardsons, which varied in ground colour from light buff 
to dark brown, were to a certain extent albinos. They also seemed to fly 
within easy range of everybody except ourselves. On one occasion three of 
us waded into the water from opposite points and fairly enveloped a Skua 
while engaged in the pursuit of a Tern; but even then, when a shot seemed 
certain, it suddenly rose straight up and eluded us, the only result being a 
ducking for one of the trio who incautiously stepped into a submerged hole. 
WAITING FOR THE TIDE, 
We decided after this to give the boat another trial, and the following day 
saw us early en route for the bar. We bagged one or two Lapwings at the 
start, and then, passing the mud-flats without a stop, made straight for the 
estuary’s mouth. As we turned the last corner, we espied in the distance the 
well-known form of the Skua, harrying as usual the flock of unoffending Terns. 
We were conscious also of a marked change coming over the movements of 
our boat; we were getting into rough water. We anchored, and it got still 
rougher as the wind rose, and the Skua showed no signs of coming within 
range. Proposals for a stroll along the shore became more and more frequent, 
and at length, when one bold spirit suggested lunch, B bluntly stated 
that he should enjoy his better on the land. Others seemed to think likewise, 
and the only one who actually did lunch in the boat was the boatman. 
