176 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



in a trice between whiles of waiting and searching for larger 

 prey. I have seen a kestrel studiously examining a dung-heap, 

 and not over-savoury are all the beetles to be found there ! 



CATCHING THE SMELTS 



A loud shout comes over the water from Jary. How sound 

 travels across Breydon ! I have heard the frogs croaking 

 away on the Bradweil marshes, and Breydon here, at its 

 widest part, is fully a mile across. My hearing may be 

 keener than most folk's, but I have heard the cuckoo in May, 

 on a peaceful morning, calling, " Ciick-oo ! " to his mate in 

 the trees yonder, that are even beyond the frogs' trysting 

 places. I sit sometimes in the Moorhen on a still evening 

 and distinctly hear the smelters comparing notes or exchang- 

 ing greetings with the wherrymen passing them in the 

 channel. One can tell by their voices often who are convers- 

 ing. They seem usually to be grumbling. . . . 



There is a good tide up, and we will sail right away across 

 the flats ; our brown sail fills with the breeze and lays our 

 punt over to leeward, bringing the rail almost to the water. 

 We draw but a few inches, and there are two feet of water 

 below us. Now and again a winding drain, dark and snake- 

 like, passes under us, while the green water curling from 

 our bows turns over in two white crested waves that ripple 

 past us and unite in a long bubbling line of foam. The 

 waving sea-wrack brushes with soft and rasping noises under 

 us, and thousands of tiny molluscs are seen clinging to the 

 succulent fronds. Flounders dart away at our approach, 

 leaving behind them a trail of smoky-looking ooze churned 

 up by their undulating fins ; crabs also run into hiding. 

 Our speed is lessened once or twice as we charge through 

 patches of " raw " ; but on we race again as we break into 

 open water once more, putting up gulls that have been crab- 

 hunting, and one or two herons which have been taking a 

 nap while waiting for the tide to fall. One can get as much 

 exhilaration out of a cockle-shell of a punt with a steady 

 breeze as out of an ocean greyhound, well knowing that the 

 sheet may be let out in a twinkling in case of a stronger 

 wind-puff; even in case of a spill one can scramble on his 



