At Home with Wild Nature 



I folded the luxuriant masses of down over the eggs 

 to keep them warm, and fell to watching the curlew. 

 Members of this species are far too wise to return to 

 their nests by any direct route. My bird was no excep- 

 tion to this rule. Descending from her coign of vantage 

 on the dead tree-top she flew round once or twice look- 

 ing for me, and then alighted on the edge of the marsh 

 at the lower end of the island and disappeared. In a 

 few moments my field-glasses picked her up again, 

 wandering to and fro in the most leisurely manner, 

 feeding as she advanced, but always travelling in the 

 direction of the spot from which she had originally risen. 

 Frequently she disappeared altogether behind a tussock 

 of bent grass, or was swallowed up by a declivity in the 

 ground, only to come into view again several yards 

 farther on, advancing steadily towards her goal. 

 Finally, she vanished as completely as if the ground had 

 opened and swallowed her up. 



Making a careful survey of the ground lying between 

 us and memorizing its landmarks, so plain through the 

 field-glasses and obscure to the naked eye, I started for- 

 ward, keeping a large tree behind me and the dead one 

 on the farther side of the marsh in line. Stumbling 

 over little hillocks and floundering into hollows progress 

 is slow, but a never-wavering eye must be kept on the 

 ground where the wily bird finally disappeared. One 

 hundred yards have been covered, and then two hun- 

 dred, but never a sign or a sound is vouchsafed me. 

 Hope gives place to doubt. A thousand disappoint- 

 ments have made me incapable of feeling any depressing 



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