126 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN 



for the water and ooze combined will not bring them 

 to their full height here. In the heat of the day the 

 place steams ; when the sun gets low, heavy curtains 

 of grey thick mist will float about, just the right 

 height to let you breathe all the noxious vapours of 

 that ague and fever-stricken district. No wonder 

 that suffering as they did they should try to get as 

 much as they could from the marshes ; they required 

 it all and more. Something was always required in 

 some way or other. Boats are not to be had for 

 nothing, and they had to have one ; a marsh-man 

 without a boat is nowhere, for he wants to use it 

 continually to get his fish and to get at his fowl 

 when the night falls. The haunts of the Bittern are 

 full of strange sounds, for other birds of a retiring 

 nature frequent the spots that he prefers. Much 

 has been written about the boom of the Bittern by 

 those who never heard it, and never will. The bird 

 has a weird cry of its own, but it is not a boom. 

 The Snipe drums, or rather we might say hums, in 

 the evening, and that sound has, I know, in more 

 than one instance, been attributed to the Bittern by 

 those who ought to have known better. 



Some parts are not flooded at high tide by the 

 salts, others are. Where the foul water has drained 

 for generations of marsh-folks from the lands above 

 to the bog below, reeking and bubbling, it causes the 

 tangle to flourish with almost tropical luxuriance. 

 Think of all this marsh vegetation growing and 

 decaying- — for who shall say how long ? 



Here the Bittern hides in the day-time, stirring. 



