172 FIELD-NOTES FOR THE YEAR. CH. XII. 



They appeared to have been driven there by the 

 wind, and to have died entangled in such unaccus- 

 tomed ground. The remains which I found did 

 not appear to have been brought by crows, or any 

 animal of prey. 



During the present severe frost I am much 

 amused with the long-tail ducks, who at every flow 

 of the tide swim into the bay, and often some way up 

 the river, uttering their most musical and singular 

 cry, which at a distance resembles the bugle-like 

 note of the wild-swan more than anything else. 



As long as there is no collection of floating ice, 

 the bay is very full of birds, and the shores are 

 enlivened with the large flocks of oyster-catchers, 

 red-shanks, and an infinite variety of other waders. 

 The red-shank begins now to utter the peculiar 

 whistle which indicates the return of spring : early 

 as it is, too, the jack-snipes, red-wings, fieldfares, 

 etc., seem to return northwards, as I see great 

 numbers of these and other birds, which had for the 

 last month or two disappeared, having, probably, 

 then gone southwards. 



The little water-rail seems to be a great wanderer. 

 I find its track, and the bird itself, in the most un- 

 likely places ; for instance, I put up one in a dry 

 furze field, and my retriever caught another in a 

 hedge, at some distance from the water : I took the 



