i2 4 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



not stick fast in the heron's gullet, which would also lead to 

 the same untimely end. No sooner is it down that eighteen- 

 inch gullet than the heron takes a sip of water fresh or salt, 

 as the case may be tries to look happy, and then reassumes 

 his melancholy pose, waiting for another victim. 



Why the flounder goes by the local name of " butt " I 

 cannot decide, nor could a Lancashire fisherman say why he 

 calls it a "fluke." However, let that pass, and take this butt- 

 pick, get into the punt, and let us away to the Breydon 

 drains. A summer butt-pick is a far lighter weapon than 

 one used in winter. Mine is, you see, a home-made affair a 

 ten-foot rod with a cross-piece of wood, into which are in- 

 serted five or six straightened cod-hooks. Yours is a lightly- 

 made iron one, with far smaller tines than those used in 

 winter. We shall get among the flounders in the shallows, 

 often in two feet of water, " thickened " with the silt drawn 

 from the flats by many little creeks. In clear water the 

 " butts " are quick to discern you, and to dart away in haste. 

 It is seldom you see a " butt " before you feel it on the pick or 

 dart. Please understand that a flounder is not a dab. 

 Scientists name the first Pleuronectes flesus ; the other P. 

 limanda. The former prefers a muddy bottom, and corre- 

 sponds with it in colour. Now and again he prowls over 

 shelly bottoms. But the dab is a lighter-hued fish, preferring 

 a sandy habitat ; hence his name of sand-dab. He is more 

 delicately flavoured, spawns at a different season, and seldom 

 indeed visits Breydon. Now to our sport. 



June 30^/2, 6 p.m. A fine June day, with a strong ebb tide 

 running. The sun is making his way across a gold-freckled 

 sky towards his rest. A few black-headed gulls are gossip- 

 ing on the mudflats instead of being at home with their 

 friends at Hoveton or Scoulton. 



6.15. Reached the "Ship" drain after a stiff pull up 

 channel. From our low punt Breydon looks dreary with 

 its vast plateau of mud, bare as a desert, and redolent of 

 seaweed. What possessed Turner to overlook such a rare 

 subject for a master pencil ? Yon yachting party, hard 

 aground on the mud, would make a pretty object in the 

 foreground of any picture especially if the expressions of 

 the stranded crew could be "caught,"' as well as their 

 anathemas ! 



