AT FLIGHT TIME 255 



A heron disturbed from its early morning breakfast 

 of eels, or flat fish, as the case may be, rises on great fan- 

 like wings and passes, with a weird and uncanny croak 

 of alarm, into the darkness, while ever and anon the 

 " whistling " of pinions overhead betokened the passage 

 of a bunch of duck from their nocturnal habitats inland 

 to the sanctuary of the open tide and outlying banks of 

 ooze. The neighbouring flats form the feeding-grounds 

 of great numbers of wading birds, and shrill and clear 

 sounds the far-ranging challenge of that vigilant sentinel 

 of the fore-shores, the curlew, and the " teuke ! " of the 

 ever-watchful redshank, above the plaintive call of the 

 lapwing and ring-plover, and the pipe of the grey and 

 golden plover, the dunlin, and man}^ other species of 

 shore-birds. 



The first grey tokens of dawn now begin to gather on 

 the eastern horizon, and as " Widgeon " Joe runs the 

 head of the dinghy on to a shelving spit of salting, he 

 mutters : 



" Yere we be under the flight-line, and hinter be the 

 daylight." 



There is no time to lose, for at the peep o' dawn, the 

 fowl will leave the stubbles and meadows inland to sleep 

 out the day on the tide and banks. Ducks travel fast, 

 more especially — as in the case this morning — with a stiff 

 breeze of wind behind them, and " Widgeon " Joe, having 

 drawn his tuck-boots well up, steps into the water, and 

 bidding his companion, " Hold taut ! " he hauls the nose 

 of the boat well up on to the salts, and the amateur walks 

 ashore dryshod. 



To pull the dinghy high and dry, and safe from the 

 rising tide, is but the work of a very few moments. Then 



