WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



in the creek with a fork tied on to a stick, spearing 

 flounders and catching crabs. The creek was wide, 

 and very shallow when the tide was out ; not more 

 than a foot in depth, and the water clear. When the 

 tide was in, there was twenty feet of water in the 

 middle. 



In our small village each one knew the other ; my 

 companions at times were what the present more 

 refined state of society might term ' doubtful.' They 

 lived by the gun. But they were good to me. Many 

 a time have I been with them over the Saltings, close 

 to heel, ready to drop or crawl at a motion when the 

 water spaniel got the scent of fowl. Sure shots and 

 true field-naturalists, they knew them all, and where 

 to find them. I owe my early insight into bird-life 

 to these men, and to an inborn love of all living 

 creatures. Coming past the long shallow pools, my 

 companion would point out the various waders, their 

 bodies reflected in the clear water by the light of the 

 setting sun, and the tern, with his shuttlecock flight, 

 catching insects and small fish. On one strip of 

 beach I have watched the dotterels for hours ; they 

 nested there if the spot on the shingle where they 

 laid their eggs could be called a nest. 



The man with whom I went out oftenest told me 

 of a struggle he once had with a great sea-eagle that 



