202 THE PLOUGHING 



the ploughed land from the unregenerate marsh, 

 Thrush and Skylark, feeding on the one side, attest 

 the land reclaimed ; whilst on the other, an old 

 Snipe, with bill rammed up to the base in the soft 

 mud-bank, declares the time not yet. But it cannot 

 be long ere the exquisitely sensitive tip of that long 

 probing bill will be unable to penetrate the ground, 

 much less to discriminate as now between objects 

 encountered beneath its surface. Snipe never breed 

 here, but already in July they come in in small parties, 

 becoming more numerous as autumn advances. 



It was about this time that, having seen a couple 

 of Redshanks descend in a certain part of the marsh, 

 I crept along one of the drained ditches until I came 

 abreast with them, finding that they had joined a 

 Ringed Plover, whose presence I had not suspected. 

 These three birds, quietly feeding, continued to 

 work their way along a gutter that ran in among a 

 plot of willow stumps, the trees having been cut 

 down almost to the level of the mud in which they 

 grew. Stalking the birds as they moved, I observed 

 that at a moment when I was best concealed, 

 they became suddenly rigid. Having neither seen 

 nor heard anything which could cause alarm, I 

 was at a loss to explain this quick change in 

 their bearing, until, one by one, I recognised the 

 forms of eight Snipe scattered around them. Like 

 small, mute, immobile Sphinxes, the Snipe crouched 

 among the willow stumps, and, as if coming suddenly 

 under the spell which held them, the Ringed Plover 

 and Redshanks stood like petrifactions. None of 

 the latter birds had detected me; they took their cue 

 from the Snipe, who had done so. 



