WILD LIFE IN SEVERN ESTUARY 13 



The shallow creeks run far into the grass country, 

 and along the edges of the tidal water the redshank 

 sandpiper loves to place her nest. Where the rhines 

 holding the surface water broaden out the sides are 

 fringed with rushes and young sedge. As you look 

 a moor-hen with the movements peculiar to all the 

 rails sails shyly across the water, jerking her body 

 as she swims just like her Virginian relative. From 

 her movements it is easy to discover her secret. 

 The nest, with nine buff eggs spotted with reddish 

 brown, is in a tuft of rushes by the bank where the 

 cattle feed almost to the edge. Further on in a 

 surface-pool another nest of the true water rail, with 

 six eggs, lies in the rushes on the brink, the billows of 

 rich grass flecked thickly with flowers surrounding it. 



On the top of the embankment which divides the 

 saltings covered by the tides from the marshes 

 beyond a black and white object attracts attention. 

 It has evidently recently come there. As you ad- 

 vance toward it you are conscious of a slight shock. 

 It is a pair of large black and white wings. You 

 lift one of them and find that it is connected with 

 the other by the whole framework of a bird plucked 

 of the flesh and with some of the fresh fragments 

 of red meat still hanging to the bones. The wings 

 are those of a lapwing certainly alive not more than 

 an hour or two ago. Scarcely a feather has been 

 disturbed. The beautiful green and black and white 

 plumage still gleams in the sunshine almost like that 

 of some tropical parrot. It is the recent kill of the 

 peregrine falcon. You passed a similar pair of 

 wings belonging to a large sea-bird on the beach and 

 just now another pair of pigeon's wings on the grass. 

 They have all had the same history. 



