A RED-LETTER DAY 183 



fell — three Little stints — the real Simon Pure at last. I 

 now waited a few minutes, and soon heard their notes 

 again. This time a small flock passed me over the 

 water, and I dropped a couple into it. I endeavoured to 

 wade in after them, but the mud was too much for me ; a 

 smart north wind was blowing also, so I turned back and 

 waited on the shore ; there I spent the time examining 

 every dunlin that came within the range of my glass in 

 the hopes of discovering one without a black belly. After 

 a while I walked on, not caring to shoot more, but 

 desirous of finding some evidence of the Little stint's 

 breeding haunts. At a short distance before me rose 

 sandhills sprinkled over with a sort of esparto grass, and 

 towards these I now walked. The intervening ground 

 was covered with thick, short, coarse grass, and was 

 studded with little pools of water. I had not gone far 

 before I came upon some sandpipers feeding on the edge 

 of a small island in the bay. There was no kind of cover 

 near ; so approaching as close as I dared, I fired. There 

 must have been six or seven birds ; all rose but one, who 

 tried to follow the rest, but was wounded, and he dropped 

 into the water, fluttering feebly on till he reached another 

 island. The mud on the banks was so deep and sticky 

 that it was with difficulty I again got within range, and 

 with a second shot laid him upon his back. When I 

 managed to reach him, my pleasure was great on picking 

 him up to find a curlew sandpiper. This was the single 

 specimen of the species that we obtained on our journey. 

 I now hastened on to the sandhills. The mosquitoes had 

 by this time forced me to wear my veil, but when on 

 reaching the hills I saw a number of small waders running 

 hither and thither, I threw it back ; still I could detect 

 nothing but ringed plovers. I shot one to be certain of 

 my identification, and hoping also that the report would 



