A Night of Wild Fowling. 



In the Marshes of North Kent. 



HARD blue sky is overhead, without a vestige of 

 cloud ; the wind blowing keen from the east, and 

 the marshes covered with frozen snow, so deep in 

 many places that few travellers would dare venture out 

 there; but I want birds as specimens, and the long- 

 continued cold has made them tame. 



The tide is running up and the birds are on flight from 

 place to place. There are very treacherous traps for the 

 unwary in the Saltings that meadow-like space left 

 between the salt water and the sea wall. To look at it 

 you would think it easy travelling, but the thick growth of 

 the sea blite and coarse grass and rush conceal the runs 

 and dykes made by the rush of the tide, some of which 

 lead to the sluice-gates in the sea wall. The force of the 

 tide opens these in flowing up, and fills all the dykes ; when 

 the ebb takes place the gates close again. Four, five, to 

 eight feet in depth these runs and dykes are ; only a marsh- 

 man can go safely over these places. 



Nothing is to be seen yet but a few hooded crows on 

 the prowl. It is no use to think of shooting the saltings 

 just now, so we turn into the marsh to look about for a 

 bit; and the Curlews (Numenius arquata) screaming w r ill 

 let us know when the tide has turned. 



What a long dreary space it is, covered with glittering 

 snow ! But the cold is fearful, and a bird will not leave 

 shelter if he can possibly help it; so we tramp on in the 

 hope of a chance shot. Here and there we come upon the 



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