MOONLIGHT AND DAYBREAK 223 



obscured, and all is dark as before. Puffs of 

 wind come and go ; then there is a whistle of 

 it, and you can see, for the wind has sent the 

 fog-bank drifting away out eastward. It is a 

 cold, light-dirty, yellowish-grey fog that casts 

 a weird look over the waters and the beach. 

 Before we can fully see things, fowl suddenly 

 appear as if by magic ; widgeon and ducks are 

 coming in : those long, dark lines shooting along 

 over the water, well off shore, are probably dun- 

 birds or pochards, making for some sheltered 

 lonely creek best known to themselves. 



A couple of birds shoot over at express speed, 

 looking like half-gallon bottles with long necks ; 

 they are a pair of red-throated divers, " sprat 

 loons." Narrow and stiff as their wings appear 

 to be, very few birds travel at a faster rate 

 when fairly on the wing. In a line with the 

 beach, out of gunshot how they gauge the 

 distance is a mystery a mob of curlews are 

 dashing up and down : a novice would certainly 

 let drive at them, so very close do these birds 

 appear to be ; but not a single shot would reach 

 them. Sanderlings and dunlins might be got, 

 only they are barely worth a charge when other 

 fowl are expected. Most people who live in- 

 land would think such a large bird as a swan 



