VII 

 THE HAUNTS OF COOT AND HERON 



IT is early morning. A grey steam rises from 

 the surface of the water through which we wade, 

 hidden in the long green sedge which, although it 

 is only the growth of a few weeks, already meets 

 overhead. Later on in the day the long May sun- 

 shine will warm the shallows, but now the keen night 

 of the early sunmmer has chilled the air, and the 

 water appears to break into vapour with every step. 

 Wade gently, for in these lonely haunts of coot and 

 heron we at this hour steal upon Nature in one of 

 her most private moods. 



The soft peaty bottom has changed, and we have 

 reached an opening among the reeds and flags. It is 

 a pool half a dozen yards across, strewn deeply with 

 clear gravel below, and circled almost completely 

 round with rank sedge, which hides the view on all 

 sides. It is a miniature delta in process of forma- 

 tion by the tiny rivulet whose waters, the murmur of 

 which is just heard in the distance, here lose them- 

 selves in the lake. There is a splash and a deep 

 swirl as the foot grates upon the gravel ; another 

 and another. We have disturbed the pike, which 

 had come here to feed in the night. The practised 



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