A WINTERS DA Y IN THE MARSHES 



Four, five, to eight feet in depth these runs and dykes 

 are; only a marshman can go safely over these 

 places. 



Nothing is to be seen yet but a few hooded 

 crows on the prowl. It is no use to think of shooting 

 the Saltings just now, so we turn into the marsh 

 to look about for a bit : and the curlews screaming 

 will let us know when the tide has turned. What a 

 long dreary space it is, covered with glittering snow ! 

 Here and there the reeds and flags along the dykes 

 have been bowed right over, and form a rough kind 

 of tunnelling roofed with snow. It is not of the least 

 use to exercise caution, for the crunch, crunch of the 

 foot tells its tale. But the cold is fearful, and a bird 

 will not leave shelter if he can possibly help it ; so 

 we tramp on in the hope of a chance shot. 



A dark patch shows on the snow ; reaching it we 

 find it is a marsh spring not frozen. Here and there 

 you come upon such ; also the footprints of the 

 heron, for the snow is soft round the margins of these 

 springs. There are no signs of the web-footed or 

 hen-footed fowl here ; only the heron is about. 



The other birds do not like him ; for he is always 

 hungry, and his stomach is very accommodating. 

 Near some pollard willows some starved-out fieldfares 

 are bunched up. They utter a feeble ' chuck ' at 



C 



