418 THE AVOCET 



upcurved bill, elastic as whalebone and coming to a thread-like point, 

 is also clearly visible, and alone would distinguish it from any other 

 bird. Now they have checked their impetus with their wings and 

 thrown their feet forward, settling in the water ahead of us with 

 a splash, and we can distinguish a dozen or more similar black and 

 white forms, all busily employed in wading rapidly through the water, 

 usually in the same direction, and picking tiny insects from the 

 surface with a sideways scooping movement of the bill. When they 

 get out of their depth, they swim easily and well. As a rule they are 

 not silent birds, and as we approach a chorus of uneasy cries is 

 heard in the distance. Some of the birds are walking about on the 

 shore, feeding with head down and tail raised. But one pair must be 

 nesting not far from us, for they rise and fly towards us, with rapid 

 calls of "tweet-tweet-tweet" sometimes varied by "tu (or twer), tu, tu, 

 tweet" Others join them, and presently we find some twenty birds all 

 flying to and fro and uttering a chorus of these cries overhead. This 

 is kept up as long as we stay there, and the nearer one gets to a nest 

 the more vociferous do the parent birds become. But when we retire, 

 the monotonous chorus of excited " tweets " soon dies down, the more 

 distant birds have already begun to feed again, and presently the 

 whole colony is busy again in the endless search for food. 



Against most of their natural enemies, such as the marsh or 

 Montagu's harriers, a colony of avocets would have no difficulty in 

 defending themselves. Though destitute of any weapon of offence, 

 their numbers and boldness would protect them from robbery. Thus 

 it has come about that the avocet has not cultivated the art of 

 concealing its nest. It is true that the clay-yellow ground of the eggs 

 sometimes harmonises well with the muddy ground, but on grass 

 it only makes them more conspicuous. In the Guadalquivir delta 

 the bright pink feathers of the flamingo are sometimes used as nest 

 lining, and these, too, naturally catch the eye. In the Danube delta, 

 in a locality where the nests are much harried by Russian peasants 

 and sheep-dogs, I have found isolated pairs nesting close to colonies 



