40 Idylls of the Field. 



opposite coast appears a cormorant. More rarely still 

 a diver will spend a day or two among the sprat-nets, 

 astonishing the fishermen with his amazing powers of 

 staying under water. 



The face of Nature, ever fair and young, is fresher 

 still and fairer in the light of dawn; and none can 

 know it better than the man who, from his boat on 

 the river, has watched the young light breaking in the 

 east ; who has seen the dim outlines of the hills take 

 shape against the sky — the broad shoulders of Mendip 

 rank behind rank far down their winding line ; has 

 watched the mist clear off the moorland, and the blue 

 smoke of scattered hamlets rise among the sheltering 

 trees. 



Drifting down the tide with idle oar, he comes 

 suddenly on a creek by the river where, all night long, 

 a grey old heron has watched and waited by the shift- 

 ing sea. The startled bird, with muttered croak, draws 

 in his long neck, spreads his great wings, stretches out 

 his awkward legs, and with slow, deliberate flight makes 

 for his home among the hills. 



Over one of the ditches of the level fields that 

 fringe the banks a kingfisher is hovering, poised above 

 the water like a hawk. The sun flashes on his bright 

 plumage as he swoops down now and then to reappear 

 fifty yards farther on. 



From the feeding-grounds on shore mallard and 

 widgeon are hurrying to the sea. Here comes a string 

 of teal that, leaving the moorland ditches where all 



