BREYDON IN LEISURELY AUTUMN 161 



it, all the while knowing he could not hope to swallow it, 

 nor did he try to ; then he threw it away in disgust. Why 

 is it the curlew can never pass by a " butt " ? The moment 

 after he had thrown it down he ran to a worm-bore, and 

 dragged out a rag- worm. See ! how the fellow jumped ! He 

 had disturbed a clam in passing that ejected a small jet of 

 water as it sank to safer hiding. I can never help being 

 amused at the curlew's nervousness. 



Hearken ! how's that for a concert ? Twenty-two freshly 

 arrived curlews, all calling at once, now fly "upwards," 

 coming in from seawards upwards, i.e. towards the Burgh 

 end of Breydon. They may rest awhile there on the flats, but 

 more probably they mean to keep on. They are hard to 

 count until they obliquely open out a couple of furlongs 

 away, and thus make the counting of them easier through 

 this powerful old marine telescope. Handy old instru- 

 ment ! How many spoonbills have I not watched through 

 your lenses ! That odd curlew piped as his relatives went 

 by, but remained. He means, no doubt, to stay a few days 

 longer. . . . 



7.30. The sun has dropped behind a purple cloud-bank ; 

 his glories are reflected upon a shoal of cloud-specks, re- 

 minding us of a flock of gilded sheep. The young crescent 

 moon is high up in the heavens, and travelling along a wind- 

 promising sky, that did not belie our forecast for the morrow. 

 As we close the cabin doors several curlews are excitedly 

 " koi-koi "-ing overhead ; they have been scared by a distant 

 gun. A marsh-prowler had probably fallen in with some 

 young mallard. The watcher yonder, undoubtedly fuming 

 in his houseboat, thinks differently. He cannot be in two 

 places at once, and most probably he is wondering whether 

 that lot of curlews " up'ard " had lost any of its members. 

 Redshanks are piping on a flat, making a late supper, prob- 

 ably of marine Gammaridce, mixing with them, as likely as 

 not, a few small Hydrobidce that hide under the prostrate 

 " wigeon-grass," and long for the rising waters. The clear 

 double "pleu, pleu " of a greenshank away to the right is 

 answered by one out there on the left. How loudly they 

 pipe out their distinct and metallic call-notes ! But those 

 curlews ! they cannot forget it. We can hear them long 

 after the doors are closed, and the clamour calls vividly to 

 M 



