MARCH IN BROADLAND. 31 



when a 'fluke ' has happened. Sitting quietly, the various birds around us become 

 assured, and take but little notice of us. The grebes have returned from the estu- 

 ary; they are coyly coquetting not far away. What beautiful crests of black and 

 red adorn their noble-looking heads! Soon they will be piling up those rotting 

 leaves into a platform for their rough, dull-shelled eggs. Who has not peered into 

 a great grebe's egg-basket without being struck by the swampy state of it, the very 

 eggs barely escaping the water that filters in ! But they take some finding, for the 

 birds are adepts at hiding, and such mimics of surroundings are they. Those little 

 birds that dashed out from the reed-bed are willow-wrens, surely; and that loud 

 harsh cry from the tree-clump was the note of the wryneck. The latter is an 

 unusually early arrival. 



The mallard has already paired off. Yonder fly a couple. The plain duck is 

 being playfully pursued by her handsomer lover: some petty difference, or maybe 

 the prying of a busy otter, put them to flight. What a splash they make as they 

 strike the open water and settle there for an amorous gossip. The white, bald 

 forehead of a coot is seen as it peeps out from between the reeds; now another 

 more boldly ventures out. They are not pleased with our close proximity. What 

 a noise yonder rooks are making in the tree-tops ! What squabblings over bits of 

 sticks and twigs are indulged in ! Unjust appropriativeness is a vice that is not 

 exclusively human. A flock of brent geese pass overhead, northern bound. Some 

 bearded tits are surveying the reed-clump yonder, as much in search of nesting- 

 quarters as of seeds or insects. The mellow call of a redshank from an adjoining 

 ' rond' is distinctly heard; and a pair of lapwings are noisily flying over yonder 

 field. 



4 You've a bite ! ' * All right, Piscator. And you've a nibble.' In giving his rod 

 the wrist, a huge sandwich is jerked into the water; but what matters that when 

 business is becoming brisk ? The moorhens will profit by the accident. This time 

 we land a fish apiece, both ' sizeable ' specimens, as the saying goes. Two or three 

 others are landed in course of time. Away goes our float again. There's a big 

 fellow at it this time surely. We strike him; and then begins a game at give and 

 take. What a whopper he must be! it takes some manosuvreing to bring him to 

 the surface; when lo! to our surprise, we find we are fast to a fair-sized jack. The 

 lob-worm smote his fancy. And we finally lay him panting in the boat. 



The strengthening of the wind brings our finishing cast earlier than it would 

 have been ; but there is every appearance of an increase of it. The air is growing 

 keener. On our way back to the staith we nearly clash oars with our old friend 

 the fenman, who has been getting in the last few rods of reeds. We are sorry to 



