THE BOOK OF MIGRATORY BIRDS 39 



footprints of a heron, for the snow is soft round the margins 

 of the springs. The other birds do not like him, for he is 

 always hungry, and his stomach is very accommodating. 



Near some pollard willows some starved-out fieldfares 

 are bunched up. They utter a feeble "chuck" at times; 

 their feathers are puffed out, making them look twice their 

 natural size. A gull comes flapping over on the hunt, for 

 a dead or wounded bird is a nice meal for him. From a 

 bunch of dead flags with a scape-scape-scape up springs a 

 snipe, with that twist-and-turn-about flight peculiar to 

 himself and his relatives. He is not fired at, for if there 

 are any fowl in hiding anywhere in his line of flight that 

 cry will move them. 



It has done so. Three mallards rise from a dyke; they 

 are low down, and fly straight to where I am standing by 

 the willows; three in a line, their green heads glistening 

 in the sun for it is morning and the red-brown of their 

 breasts is showing distinctly. They are near enough now, 

 I think two of them, at any rate. 



"Bang !" "Quack, quack !" A twist and turn of their 

 necks and bodies tells that they have been hit, but they do 

 not fall. It serves one right, for it is almost useless firing 

 at fowl coming right at you ; the breast feathers are so 

 thick. It is a warning to resist temptation for the future. 



As we near the Saltings, something springs from a patch 

 of dead flag, which we shoot, and it proves to be a fine 

 specimen of the Short-eared Owl (Strix brachyotos) or 

 "woodcock owl" of the marshmen. His light body and 

 hawk-like flight often lead folks to take him for some other 

 bird. He hunts by day as well as in the evening; any 

 hen-footed fowl is his prey that is, if it is nol too big 

 for him. 



The shore-shooters know him well ; they see him, just 

 as the light begins to fade, come skimming over the flats, 

 now high up, the next moment close to the ground. All 

 at once he stops, and fans with his wings, like a kestrel, 

 over a tuft of rushes. That fanning of the wings is 

 remarkable; it causes a current of air, much stronger than 



