BAD WEATHER 293 



stream, they were seen and snapped up, every one of 

 them, by those fateful sooty-coloured demons of the air, 

 ever streaming by on their swift scythe-shaped wings. 

 Not a swallow nor a martin was in sight at that spot. 



It is plain, then, that if the mayfly is declining and 

 dying out because some too greedy bird snatches its life 

 before it can lay its eggs to continue the species, or 

 drop upon the water to supply the trout with its proper 

 succulent food, the swift and not the swallow is the 

 chief culprit. 



It is equally plain that these (from the angler's point 

 of view) injurious birds are not breeders by the water- 

 side. Their numbers are too great : they come, ninety 

 per cent, of them I should say, from farm-houses, 

 villages, and towns at a distance of a good many miles 

 from the water. 



The revels of the swifts were brought prematurely to 

 an end by a great change in the weather, which began 

 with a thunderstorm on July 27, and two days later a 

 greater storm, with hail the size of big marrowfat peas, 

 which fell so abundantly that the little lawn was all 

 white as if snow had fallen. From that time onwards 

 storm succeeded storm, and finally the weather became 

 steadily bad ; and we had rough, cold, wet days right on 

 to the 10th of August. It was a terrible time for the 

 poor holiday people all over the country, and bad too 

 for the moulting and late-breeding birds. As a small 

 set-off to all the discomfort of these dreary days, we 

 had a green lawn once more at the cottage. I had 



