286 WITH THE WOODLANDERS. 



fowling tradition never sleep, the chances are very 

 much against the gunners. The common gulls cry 

 shrilly, and the cobs bark in harsh, hacking notes ; 

 they are awake like the rest, for birds in stormy 

 weather feed when they can. 



Nets stretched on stakes let you know what birds 

 move at night over the sand-flats ; also how very 

 early some other birds get up in the morning to 

 pull them out of it. Turning to his companion, 

 the shooter next to me said 



" We've come out on a fool's errand. If I'd 

 know'd it, I'd ha' stopped at home. When we 

 started I thought we should ha' had a job to load 

 an' fire fast enough, but not a shot shall we git 

 to-night or mornin' proper; the minster hev just 

 banged out three o'clock. Them 'ere fowl won't 

 come inshore, not a bit on it. Jest hear how 

 restless they are hollerin' ; I've heerd my father 

 speak of the same thing arter a storm. There's a 

 body o' some sort out over the bar wants to come 

 in. An' the fowl knows it's out there; they've 

 seen it, an' they won't settle till it comes ashore. 

 If it don't, Shoreland's lights will be seen agin, 

 lookin' for it all along foreshore.'* 



