20 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



A RIME FROST 



A spell of sharp frost, with slight snowfalls and a smart 

 wind from the north-east, ushered in the year 1894, and for 

 some days the neighbourhood put on one of its old-time 

 aspects, wild birds of various species thronging the coast, 1 

 inducing many an old sportsman who had not smelt powder 

 for years to indulge once more in the pastime of shooting. 

 The Broads were frozen over, and Breydon assumed an arctic 

 appearance. 



On January 7th, a dense rime frost had scattered the "hoar- 

 frost like ashes" over the face of Nature. Few persons went 

 to church that day, and fewer still went to look upon Brey- 

 don ; for except near the " Lower Run," and in the channel 

 nearer home, it was a vast field of ice. 



The outlook on the marshes, as I strode briskly up the 

 New Road, was wintry enough to suit the most exacting. 

 There was a strange stillness everywhere, broken only by the 

 merry laughter of some clumsy skaters on the distant 

 ditches. Not a breath of wind rustled among the remnants 

 of last year's reeds, which lined the wide ditch on our right, 

 and their few tufted heads hung heavily with the weight of 

 hoar-frost upon them. The ragged willows that then still 

 held up their branches were beautiful now in their garments 

 of white, and the lichens on their gnarled trunks had been 

 touched as if by fairy fingers. A meadow-pipit, with melan- 

 choly cheep, fluttered from under the stubbly banks, cheepmg 

 again to one of his fellows when he overtook him, as if 

 deploring his want of luck, and asking him how many hidden 

 insects he had fallen in with. 



I cautiously crossed one of the brackish ditches, and the ice, 

 pierced here and there by reed-stubble, bore me safely; then 

 clambering over a marsh gate and the railway metals, I found 

 myself on Breydon walls. A couple of skylarks were 

 snapping off the brittle grass-bents beside a frozen marsh 

 puddle, their feathers puffed out for extra warmth ; they 

 were certainly happier than a snail-loving thrush that hopped 

 inquisitively up to them, as if to compare notes and ask a 

 favour of them. Larks seldom find themselves dinnerless in 



1 Vide Nature in Eastern Norfolk^ p. 60. 



