birds fishing in the channels among the mudbanks 

 in the Nook, at Rye, in Sussex. They used to com- 

 mence working down the creeks soon after the turn 

 of the tide, and closely following the falling water 

 they found abundant food in the numerous shallow 

 pools. About half-flood they used generally to 

 make a move, flying up the creeks, and so on to 

 the small drains that led through the marshes, 

 and then dispersing themselves over the levels. I 

 have occasionally observed a score or two fly past 

 in small parties of threes and fours within a quarter 

 of an hour while I was watching them from the 

 shingle banks close at hand one or two now 

 and then steadying themselves for a moment, and 

 then making a dash after a shrimp or small sea 

 fish. 



Fifteen years make a difference in most things ; 

 the mudbanks and creeks are certainly gone, and I 

 expect the numerous parties of Kingfishers that 

 frequented them remain only in the memory of 

 those that have had the pleasure of watching 

 them. 



The last time I visited the spot, some fine 

 specimens of Southdown mutton were grazing 

 stolidly and complacently on the luxuriant turf that 

 had formed where previously hundreds of acres of 

 mudbanks were covered by every flowing tide. 



I see that this habit of coming down to the 

 salt water, and occasionally into the harbours, is 

 common all along the south coast during the 

 autumn. 



In the Broad districts in the eastern counties 

 the birds are not nearly so common as might be 

 expected. 



While Snipe shooting one winter round Hick- 

 ling Broad, in Norfolk, I noticed some small object 

 splashing in the water at the side of a dyke, and on 

 proceeding to the spot I discovered an unfortunate 

 Kingfisher that had come to grief in a rather singular 

 manner. The bird had evidently at some former 



