166 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



eel fall upon the " grass," in which it vainly tried to squirm, 

 he was only endeavouring to get a better grip, and at each 

 strike he pinched peevishly ; a dozen times at least did the 

 heron drop that eel, and as many times did he seize it again ; 

 now and then some filaments of weed blew, pennant-like, 

 from his bill. I have seen a heron thus engaged bullied and 

 pursued by three or four less fortunate fellows finally to lose 

 it, having dropped its prey on the mud below, where it has 

 promptly buried itself in the ooze, to the annoyance of all, 

 and the great chagrin of one. My friend yonder had no 

 rivals, and at length, having knocked all resistance out of his 

 prey, he bolted it, taking a sip in the same way the gull had 

 done ; and having in all likelihood slightly " overloaded his 

 stomach " for he had been fishing'for half an hour^ he drew 

 his head into his shoulders, lifted one leg, and took a nap. 

 The rising tide came well up his odd leg ere he awoke to re- 

 sume his fishing. . . . 



It was dinner-time, and the tide was at the full. The 

 redshanks, washed off the opposite flats, had betaken them- 

 selves to the marshes ; the small birds restlessly passed and 

 repassed ; the gulls were on the wing fishing in the channel ; 

 there are drowned mice, bits of fish, and what not always 

 being borne upstream from the town. The curlews and 

 whimbrel were preening their feathers and sleeping on the 

 rond west of us. 



A few eels brought to us by an old Breydoner made a by 

 no means unsavoury Sunday dinner, and the fry-pan was 

 frizzling a merry tune. The steaming coffee added to a 

 pleasant aroma. I wanted some brother naturalist to have 

 dropped in just then, for there were enough dainties for two, 

 and a chat with a kindred spirit is refreshing : and there 

 had been sufficient birds to be seen that day to have delighted 

 a dozen. After dinner I flung myself on the settles, threw 

 a rug around me, and read myself into a refreshing sleep. 

 I am like the heron ; I have my fill and take a nap. . . . 



When I awoke the tide had fallen, the flats had again be- 

 come bare, and a host of various gulls were scattered all 

 around, some asleep, some arranging their dainty plumage, 

 and a few strolling about snatching up something towards 

 a supper. 



I had flung out a few minutes since some eel-bones, a 



