74 



WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



"Noisy old birds them 'Maybirds,'" said Jary ; "there's 

 at least a couple of score of 'em hereabouts. They seem 

 to come here more numerously every spring." 



" Glad to corroborate you," I said, turning over a fat eel in 

 the pan, and pitching in another lump of dripping. 



" Look here," said he, hauling out a broken-winged dead 

 whimbrel from under a sack at the end of the settle. " I picked 

 that up this mornin' against the south wall. I'd like to have 

 catched the fule as knocked that out. I suppose some one 

 had a shot at 'em on the marshes last night as they passed 

 over." 



And most likely Jary was right, for I must acknowledge 



ON THE ALERT. WHiMBKliL 



that, as far as Breydon is concerned, the local gunners who 

 frequent the place in the open season have respect for the 

 Protection Acts, much as they object to them ; and it is 

 a rare thing indeed to hear the report of a fowling-piece, 

 except on the marshes, from March to August, when, of 

 course, duck-shooting breaks the long spell of gun-rusting, 

 and worries the watcher into redoubled vigilance. Jary is 

 not disliked by the fraternity, who, although they may 

 abominate his vocation, respect him for his honesty of pur- 

 pose. Some will frankly admit that " if he didn't earn the 

 money, some one else might have to," which is sound logic. 

 It was not unpleasant to feel the old boat rocking like a 



