BIRDS IN CORNISH VILLAGE 267 



sunny day is of that marvellous blue colour seen 

 only in Cornwall; far out on a rock on the right 

 hand stands the shining white Godrevy lighthouse, 

 and on the left, on the opposite side of the bay, 

 the little ancient fishing-town of St. Ives. 



The river or estuary, in sight of the doors and 

 windows of the village, was haunted every day 

 by numbers of gulls and curlews. These last 

 numbered about one hundred and fifty birds, and 

 were always there except at full tide, when they 

 would fly away to the fields and moors. Of all 

 my bird neighbours I think that these gave me 

 most pleasure, especially at night, when lying 

 awake I would listen by the hour to the perpetual 

 curlew conversation going on in the dark — an end- 

 less series of clear modulated notes and trills, 

 with a beautiful expression of wlldness and free- 

 dom, a reminder of lonely seashores and moun- 

 tains and moorlands in the north country. What 

 wonder that Stevenson, sick in his tropical island 

 — sick for his cold grey home so many thousands 

 of miles away, wished once more to hear the 

 whaup crying over the graves of his forefathers, 

 and to hear no more at all! 



Of bird music by day there was little ; you would 



