A ]\IARSH WALK IN MAY 23 



Hardly do we set foot within the Gulls' sanctuary 

 than a scene of much temporary confusion ensues. 

 Gulls in numbers rise before us ; Coots and Moor- 

 hens scuttle away in all directions ; a fine old 

 Mallard springs into the air, and a splash of wings 

 succeeded by a dive shows us where the Duck has 

 just disappeared, leaving a tiny brood of young but 

 lately hatched to save themselves by hiding 

 amongst the sprouting reeds. From the far end of 

 the pool a great grey Heron slowly gets upon the 

 wing, and with an awkward flapping flight sails out 

 over the marsh. Another joins him just beyond, 

 and the two eventually drop into a distant dyke, 

 where they are lost to view. 



It is a wonderfully beautiful and animated scene, 

 as we stand knee-deep in water, to contemplate it. 

 The birds are not to- be persuaded of our peaceful 

 intentions, but continue to circle over and around 

 us with noisy cries. The Coots pass and repass us 

 within gunshot ; the Gulls hover overhead ; the 

 Peewits, though keeping over the drier portions of 

 the marsh, continue to make themselves seen and 

 heard ; and the Reed Warblers chatter incessantly, 

 while every now and then a Redshank dashes by, 

 waking the echoes of the wild waste with its fine 

 loud notes of warning. 



We need not long remain here, for we have no 

 wish unnecessarily to alarm the birds, and, more- 

 over, the water is cold. Picking up an egg here 

 and there of Coot, Gull, and Moorhen, we make 

 for terra firma, and continue on our way across the 

 marsh. 



