166 BIRD LIFE IN WILD WALES 



birds'-nesting must have found it. I waded quite 

 up to my waist, and found that it contained but one 

 egg on the point of hatching, as I could hear the 

 young bird chirping inside. Besides this there were 

 fragments of broken egg in the nest, which may have 

 been Mr. Crow's work, as I could not see any tiny 

 Grebes with the old birds, which came very close to 

 me whilst I investigated their home, uttering from 

 time to time a peculiar grating note. I may say 

 that this species begins to sit as soon as the first egg 

 is laid. Proceeding, I flushed several Snipe, but found 

 no nest. Whilst squashing my way through a 

 decidedly damp osier-bed, a hen Reed Bunting went 

 fluttering from her nest, which lay in some matted 

 sword-grass growing up an osier-clump. I almost 

 trod on this nest, which contained five eggs. The 

 female tried all kinds of alluring antics, pretending 

 to have a broken wing and leg, as this species so 

 often will when disturbed at the nest. A little 

 further on, in the reedy undergrowth, I fell in with 

 a nice little brood of seven Pheasant chicks just 

 hatched, with their mother. The halved egg-shells, 

 so neatly packed inside one another, betokened the 

 late nest. I quite feared for their safety in this dank 

 retreat, for there were many pools close by, both 

 deep and muddy — a truly dreadful pitfall for a young 

 Pheasant. Their assiduous mother negotiated them 

 out of these difficulties, and so I left them. After 

 this a Wild Duck dashed from the reeds, fluttering 

 in agitation along the lake, making the water fairly 

 boil. I knew that she must have her ducklings 

 somewhere very close, but I did not find them. Close 



