Wild Life on a Surrey Moor 



ages intermixed with clumps of old furze and very long 

 heather, I was startled to hear the clear ringing notes 

 of a curlew. The bird had risen from a piece of com- 

 paratively flat ground overgrown with masses of half- 

 dead bent grass, rushes, and other coarse herbage 

 typical breeding surroundings of her species. She flew 

 away with protesting cries, and to my astonishment 

 alighted on the topmost twig of a dead tree, standing 

 gaunt and lonely on the other side of the snow field of 

 cotton grass, where she stood outlined against the sky 

 like an ibis. 



Her subsequent behaviour persuaded me that she 

 had a nest and eggs somewhere on "the island," 

 although it was within forty-five miles of London town, 

 and according to all previous experience she ought at 

 the moment to have been breeding on a northern fell- 

 side. 



Retracing my footsteps I made a detour and went 

 into hiding at a point commanding a good view of the 

 ground, yet several hundred yards away. Whilst 

 quietly scanning the country through my binoculars I 

 was suddenly startled by a great commotion and clatter 

 of wings. A teal duck rose from a tangle of heather 

 beside a thick furze bush and flew away. There she had 

 sat in her downy cradle upon nine eggs for several 

 minutes within a few feet of me, and would have sat 

 on undiscovered had her nerve not failed and the 

 instinct of self-preservation told her in undeniable terms 

 to seek safety in flight. Poor bird, she need not have 

 troubled, for her eggs and she were both quite safe. 



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