BY THE EXE. 119 



the country, always ask for cider, which they say 

 reminds them of their own wines at home — like hock, 

 or Rhenish. Though the junction of Barle and Exe 

 is a long way from the sea (as the Exe winds), salmon 

 come far up above that to the moors. Salmon-fishing 

 is preserved, but poachers take them at night with 

 gaffs. There are water-bailiffs, who keep a good look 

 out, or think they do, but occasionally find heads of 

 salmon nailed to their doors in derision. The missel- 

 thrush is called the "holm-screech." The missel- 

 thrushes, I know, have a difficulty to defend their 

 young against crows; but last spring I found a jack- 

 daw endeavouring to get at a missel-thrush's nest. 

 The old birds were screeching loudly, and trying to 

 drive the jackdaw away. The chaffinch appears to be 

 called "wood-finch," at least the chaffinch answered 

 nearest to the bird described to me as a " woodfinch." 

 In another county it is called the piefinch. 



One summer evening I was under a wood by the 

 Exe. The sun had set, and from over the wooded hill 

 above bars of golden and rosy cloud stretched out 

 across the sky. The rooks came slowly home to roost, 

 disappearing over the wood, and at the same time the 

 herons approached in exactly the opposite direction, 

 flying from Devon into Somerset, and starting out to 

 feed as the rooks returned home. The first heron 

 sailed on steadily at a great height, uttering a loud 

 " caak, caak " at intervals. In a few minutes a second 

 followed, and "caak, caak" sounded again over the 

 river valley. The third was Aying at a less height, 

 and as he came into sight over the line of the wood he 

 suddenly wheeled round, and, holding his immense 



