174 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



things as they find them. The Breydoner of to-day is not 

 nearly so interesting an individual as the Breydoner of the past. 



DAY-DREAMING 



It was a perfect autumn afternoon ; soft fleecy clouds idly 

 crawled across the sky, as if loth to hurry over the placid 

 waters in which they were reflected. I sat in the stern of 

 the Moorhen, sipping an after-dinner cup of tea, and watching 

 the sand-martins flitting around the rond and walls, snapping 



HALCYON DAYS. KINGFISHERS 



up heedless flies. In less regular flight, a few swallows, old 

 and young together, but taking small heed of each other, 

 turned and twisted, darted, and fell back on their tracks, 

 dodging insects that would escape them. 



A kingfisher came and settled on a stump of my little 

 jetty, and not seeing me, turned his back on me and sat for a 

 few minutes as if deep in thought. He made a queer wring 

 of his thick-set body when hurriedly scratching his head with 

 his crimson left foot. He still sat thinking, and as men, when 

 in deep thought, whistle, he screeched a queer shrill note or 

 two, and then gathered himself together. 



He suddenly lifted himself a-wing, as if he had decided 



