NEW YEAR ON SOLWAY 117 



and far to the westward, those hills which the exiled 

 Stevenson remembered so well: 



" Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places, 



Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor, 

 Hills of sheep, and the homes of the silent vanished races, 



And winds, austere and pure : 

 Be it granted me to behold you again in dying, 



Hills of home ! and to hear again the call; 

 Hear above the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying, 

 And hear no more at all." 



Where the Wampool empties its waters geese and ducks 

 were in thousands, but the fowler, whether tramping the 

 slub or gliding cautiously down the gutters, found his 

 quarry hard to approach; the wary spoil-sport curlew 

 was ever ready to sound the alarm. Wigeon, drifting 

 seaward on the ebb, were distinct enough, but the grey 

 geese, far away on the sands, were impossible to identify, 

 though some at closer quarters were undoubtedly grey- 

 lags. On the marsh were a few barnacles, finding the 

 saltings provided a substitute for half-frozen zostera; 

 hooded crows were lifting shellfish to drop them from a 

 height on the hard sand, smashing the tightly shut valves. 

 The winter range of the hoodie and carrion overlap at 

 Solway, and we found the latter bird gorging on a mallard 

 which some sportsman had failed to gather. 



Bar-tailed godwits, occasional winterers on Solway, 

 were with the oyster-catchers, or flying in little parties 

 with sharp, barking cries; twice or three times we heard 

 the triple note of the whimbrel, a much rarer bird as a 

 winter visitor. With the thaw the golden plover and 

 lapwings returned to the fields, hunting the softening 

 sods; during the frost they joined the more maritime 

 waders. Fieldfares and redwings, larks and starlings 

 were all in the fields, and the last fed with rooks and daws 

 on the marsh as well as inland. 



