ON THE SALT-MARSHES 199 



a distance of, perhaps, half- a -mile, until the smack lay 

 immediately between the lapwings and myself. By 

 this manoeuvre I had the wind dead ahead, and con- 

 sequently my scent would not be carried down to the 

 birds. 



Keeping the friendly smack ever between the quarry 

 and myself, I covered the first half of the stretch of 

 mud as expeditiously as my heavy sea -boots and the 

 sticky going would permit, but upon nearing the vessel 

 I proceeded more gingerly. At length, after what 

 appeared to have been a week of mud-trotting, I 

 gained the cover afforded by the smack, and, peering 

 round her counter, had the satisfaction of seeing the 

 lapwings still on the spit of black ground, and within 

 easy range of me. Needless to add that the appearance 

 of the tip of a nose round the stern of the fish-reeking 

 boat was quite sufficient to set every bird a-wing, and, 

 pulling into the " dense " of the whirling bunch of black 

 and white, four birds dropped like stones, while another, 

 hard hit, after carrying on bravely for some little distance 

 shorewards, pitched into a vast growth of salt-wort. 

 Having gathered the dead 'uns, three of which were sadly 

 bedraggled from falling into a pool of muddy water, I 

 went to hunt for the cripple, but after a long and fruit- 

 less search I was reluctantly compelled to leave the 

 unfortunate bird to the tender mercies of the " hoodies," 

 black-back gulls, and other winged scavengers of the 

 foreshores, who are ever on the watch for wounded 

 birds. 



