128 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



the quaint old town of Wells and, in company with Dr. S. H. 

 Long, of Norwich, spent a couple of hours in exploring the 

 marshes extending immediately from the town-front to the 

 seashore. The tide was out, leaving exposed, in the bed of 

 the creek that passes for a river, patches of mussel-covered 

 mud. A single common tern was hungrily eyeing the rather 

 turbid bit of water from a few yards above the surface, mak- 

 ing more pretence at than really fishing. With a little trouble 

 we crossed over to the marsh in a boat. 



The tramping and scrambling and leaping across the 

 rough marshland, intersected by numerous sharply -cut 

 creeks that wound round about in every direction, and 

 traversed by well-worn trails leading seawards, was made 

 interesting by reason of meeting with forms of plant-life 

 which, with the exception of the Michaelmas daisy (Aster 

 tripoliunt), the jointed glasswort, and the aromatic sea- 

 southernwood, were altogether different from those of my 

 own neighbourhood. The thrift was conspicuously sprinkled 

 around, with tufts and clumps of the shrub-like Suada 



fruticosa in equal abundance. The creeks and " pulk-holes " 

 gave evidence of a varied fauna and invited research. 



A pair of redshanks had much to say against our intru- 

 sion ; they evidently had a nest somewhere in one of the 

 higher tussocky corners, which would be awkwardly placed, 

 however tempting the area generally, unless beyond the 

 reach of the tidal water, which on the spring tides, I am 

 assured, places the whole marsh under water. I thought it 

 rather odd that there should be here a three hours' flood and 

 a nine hours' ebb and, stranger still, that a twelve- and four- 

 teen-foot rise is a usual thing, seeing that at Yarmouth, not 

 so very far away, a six-foot tide is esteemed a good one ! 

 A couple of sheld-ducks most picturesquely broke the 

 middle distance with a dash of conspicuous colouring, but 



. they were exceedingly shy and quickly took to wing. On 

 a subsequent visit, in 1906, I was fortunate enough to crawl 

 on my hands and knees to a burrow in which, only a foot or 

 more from the entrance, complacently sat the female on her 

 complement of eggs. 



The locality chosen by the terns for their nesting quarters 

 is barely above the common level, and the sea-water, rising 

 above the creeks, must at unusually high tides trickle into the 



