THE BIRDS OF NORTH KENT. 109 
glasses, into hundreds of Gulls, invariably with their beaks 
pointed to the quarter from which a strong boisterous wind is 
blowing. You recognize them by their size as being chiefly 
Black-headed Gulls (Larus ridibundus), now without their black 
—or to be more accurate, chocolate-coloured—faces. Amongst 
them, standing out conspicuously like so many giants, are 
several Great Black-backed Gulls (L. marinus), the black backs 
showing in striking contrast against the pure white breasts. 
Probably there are other species amongst these numbers, but 
they are too far off to be identified, although in several places 
there are groups of year-old birds in brown plumage of varying 
shade. 
Your observation of the Gulls is suddenly broken by a sharp 
vibrating whistle, which might be syllabled as “‘ terrett-terrett- 
terrett,” quickly repeated, and you are just in time to catch 
sight of and identify some half-dozen Turnstones (Strepsilas 
interpres), flying from the sandy beach and winging their way 
over the ooze. As they pass along they disturb a small mob of 
Ringed Plovers, which join them in their hasty flight, and can 
be identified more by their plaintive whistle than by anything 
else. Very difficult they are to follow in their movements, the 
colour of their backs and upper wing surfaces being almost 
exactly similar to the light brown mud. The Turnstone is a 
passing visitor. Its plumage is striking, the upper parts of the 
adult being barred with black and white; but you were able to 
distinguish from the brown faces of these few birds that they 
were the young of this year. 
And then you are surprised to hear close to you a ‘‘ chitter- 
ing’ phrase, which carries you back in a moment to the rocky 
bed of the River Lune in Westmorland, where the same note was 
last heard—the first phrase of the wild little song uttered by the 
Sandpiper (Totanus hypoleucus), as with a twisting flight it 
flutters over the broken water and settles on some mossy foam- 
splashed rock, with a flirt and jerk of its tail, and a final shrill 
“cheap.” An inconspicuous little bird of brown and white, it 
may have laid and hatched its four sandy-buff eggs close to the 
edge of that stream under a bush or tussock of grass, and 
is now, like its cousin the Turnstone, seeking change in the 
south. 
