38 FIFTEEN DAYS ON THE DANUBE. 



I should be glad if my pen could give the reader even a 

 slight idea of the marvellous scenes which here stamped them- 

 selves so indelibly on my memory. The landscape was the 

 more interesting from the picturesqueness of the vegetation, 

 for open expanses of water alternated with great forests of 

 reeds, half submerged thickets, and clumps of tall silver 

 poplars, oaks, willows, and elms ; fallen stems lay with their 

 highest parts out of the water, and dead oaks, black poplars, 

 and wild fruit-trees stood isolated among the rustling reed- 

 beds. All was flooded, and a gentle breeze played over the 

 ripples and the rich verdure in which this exuberant vege- 

 tation was decked. Little Grebes, Ducks, and Moorhens 

 flapped up in front of us. The latter are the characteristic 

 birds of all these " auen," and their incessant cries, mingled 

 with the croaking of countless frogs, made a deafening noise. 

 Here I everywhere found Marsh-Harriers, Hooded Crows, 

 Cuckoos, Wood-Pigeons, and Stock-Doves, and also some of 

 their nests j but it was not until we had penetrated a long 

 way into this wilderness that I saw two majestic Sea-Eagles 

 flying low over the water, and observed one of them settle on 

 a dead tree not far off, its yellowish plumage glistening in the 

 sun. After half an hour's rowing we gradually came into a 

 drier district, some patches of unsubmerged wood appeared, 

 and on one of them I saw from afar the first Sea-Eagle's 

 eyrie, situated upon a tall, very thin, and branchless black 

 poplar. It was a huge strong structure, and any one who 

 had never seen an eagle's nest before would have thought it 

 incredibly large. 



Stepping cautiously into the " csikel," which Ferencz was 

 working, Hodek and I approached the tree, our boat remain- 

 ing behind hidden in the sedge, for we had to cross an open 

 sheet of water, succeeded by a tract of thick reeds, before we 

 got to the narrow tongue of land on which the nest stood. 



Propelled by quiet strokes of the paddle the " csikel " 



