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SOME MISCELLANEOUS NOTES FROM GREAT 

 YARMOUTH (1913-14). 



By Arthur H. Patterson. 



My notes published in this Journal in October, 1913, ended 

 somewhat abruptly in early September. Those in the present 

 number cover a period of some twelve months, and relate in a 

 great measure to observations made in the neighbourhood of 

 St. Olaves, a church-less little village in North Suffolk, on the 

 River Waveney, some four or five miles beyond Breydon water. 

 My week-ends, nowadays, are usually spent in the marshlands 

 in the vicinity of my houseboat (' Moorhen II.'). Breydon still 

 retains some charms for me, although the gradual but ceaseless 

 growing-up of the mudflats and the elimination of many smaller 

 and once punt-navigable "drains" make negotiation almost 

 impossible, except on the higher tides, and circumscribe one's 

 movements very considerably. We have luxuriant acres of 

 Zostera, where two or three decades since the mud was bare and 

 oozy, and full of the low forms of life on which small waders 

 chiefly subsist. This Zostera holds the silt and flotsam which 

 help to raise the flats ; then comes the jointed glasswort (Sali- 

 cornea herbacea), and finally the harsh semi-marine marsh 

 grasses, which now give the historic "Lumps" a rond-like 

 appearance. I cannot but feel a sort of ' Last of the Mohicans ' 

 pessimism when alone, lying in my punt at the " Lumps," 

 watching the great hordes of Gulls, the little flocks of Dunlins 

 and their chums the Ringed Plovers, prowling about in search 

 of food, with not another fellow-creature in sight ; and calling 

 to mind my youth, when at one time a dozen Eel-catchers might 

 be seen at work over the flats and at the " Fleet " with " pick " 

 or " bab," and as many punt-gunners gliding around in search 

 of Duck and rarer birds, with here and there a trio of smelters 

 hauling in their prey, and a crew of mulleters, or " butters," 

 seeking Flounders or the cunning Grey Mullet. One can go 



