BREYDON IN SPRINGTIME 93 



a great area of ground, as if well aware that it is a case of 

 urgency if they would have their fill. 



Time is flying. We had better go back to the channel, 

 hoist the sail again, and make for stake No. 6, rounding which 

 we enter the Ship drain. A magnificent old heron stands 

 asleep at the corner of the flat, but promptly awakes and up- 

 lifts his head as the sciss of the boat's prow cutting the water 

 falls on his keen ear. The long and elegant black crest on 

 his nearly white head waves in the wind like a warship's 

 pennant. With a loud, frightened Hank ! he takes to lumber- 

 ing flight, sailing away to join a companion farther up the 

 drain. On the flat here to the left, as recently as April I2th, 

 1902, I saw thirty hooded crows, some of them by their actions 

 already paired off, gathered, and making up their minds to 

 cross the sea ; it was odd to see them and some swallows in 

 close proximity. 



A mixed flock of dunlins are feeding at the edge of the 

 flat. Some are horse-shoed on the breast with black old 

 birds, of course a few are still almost as grey as in winter ; 

 they are immature, and probably young birds now complet- 

 ing the first year. An oyster-catcher flits by, erratic and 

 hurried in flight, yelping noisily. Strange it is that this 

 species, which musters up so numerously at the north-west of 

 the county, is but the merest straggler to Breydon, nor does 

 he often visit the foreshore. Maybe, if we had mussel-scalps, 

 he might come oftener. There is nothing rare about to-day 

 the spoonbill occasionally drops in in April, and the avocet 

 still more rarely. Now and then a few godwits, far ahead of 

 their relatives, visit us as early as the middle of the month ; 

 ringed plovers are often abundant, and in fairly numerous 

 flocks may be seen winging their way about all over the 

 place ; while redshanks come daily to feed from their nest- 

 ing quarters on the adjacent marshes. 



The tide has risen high enough to allow of a straight 

 course over the flats ; so we leave the sinuous drain and 

 George's "deek" on our right, with the houseboats at the 

 "corner," and point the bow of the punt straight for the 

 Moorhen. It is about time that we had dinner. Below us 

 waves the Zostera, crowded with Hydrobia that scratch the 

 bottom of the punt with a queer rasping noise as we bowl 

 along over them. Here and there, in a patch bare of " grass," 



