126 A MOORLAND SANCTUARY 



marsh, and alighted by the stream. For a few 

 moments he paused, as if intently listening, then 

 stalked into the darkness of the gorge. Till 

 midnight the bird continued to search for food 

 beside the brook. But when the moon ascended, 

 and hung like a clear lamp above the waterfall, 

 he stretched his wings, flew up and around the 

 gorge, and up again and further and still further 

 into the heights of the sky ; and, uttering a dis- 

 cordant cry, headed south towards a river, 

 followed its course to the estuary, and crossed 

 a headland to another marsh far off on the fringe 

 of the sea. 



Spring had come ; and the marsh on the 

 coast was the scene of restless activity. By day, 

 the thick reed-beds at high-water mark were 

 thronged with migrant birds on their way to the 

 north and here awaiting the coming of night. 

 During the darkness, the air seemed filled with 

 the noise of beating wings, as flock after flock 

 swept northward. If the night was calm, the 

 noise was faint and continuous, and indicated 

 that the birds were passing high over the marsh ; 

 but when storm prevailed, the sounds seemed to 

 show that the birds were skimming the waves, 

 rising gradually as they neared the land, and 

 then flying a hundred feet or so above the reeds. 



The bittern's favourite hiding-place was a 



