132 A VISIT TO POCHARD ISLAND— 
and the birds gone. There were no traces of 
the shells, which was curious. What had 
become of them ? (Last year we had found 
three unhatched eggs in it. See Part Tae 
58.) But we found their soft inside linings, 
still quite wet. We discovered the old birds 
swimming about with six cygnets—a fine 
family. On our approach all the youngsters 
climbed upon the mother’s back and hid 
beneath her wings, which she kept open and 
erect to shelter them ; it was a very pretty 
sight. Unfortunately the light did not suit 
at all, or I would have snapshotted them. 
Their fright over, the little ones took to the 
water again. The male bird, as usual, advanced 
towards us—the embodiment of ferocity. 
In the evening I watched a thrush on my 
lawn looking for worms. It had been raining, 
and the bird knew the worms would come 
out then. The ways of the bird thus engaged 
are very interesting. He hops on to the 
grass, takes a short run and then stops, all 
his movements being quietly and noiselessly 
performed—for the worms would otherwise 
