CHAPTER XXIV. 



CURLEWS, WHIMBRELS. 



In all deltas there is a line which, as a classical writer 

 once put it nee tellits est nee mare, is neither sea nor land, 

 that delightful admixture of water, sand, mud, and the 

 creatures that live therein which long-legged and long-billed 

 birds love. Here, when it suits them, they congregate, at 

 times accompanied by myriads of true water fowl, the 

 swimmers that is to say. Here in China there is less of this 

 kind of ideal haunt than might be expected, less than may 

 be seen in European and American deltas, for the simple 

 reason that China is the land of the Chinese, and where in 

 other parts of the world delta land would be left to drain 

 itself, here it is taken in hand as a huge sponge might be, 

 squeezed dry, and occupied. But this wandering from 

 curlews to coolies must be checked. I have merely suggested 

 it for a purpose, not that the reader should have his attention 

 taken from the bird to the man, but that he should, by every 

 polder which he will see if he visits the Kiangsu coasts, be 

 reminded that the presence of man means sometimes the 

 absence, sometimes the comparative rarity, of certain species 

 of birds. The wilder the land, for example, the better the 

 curlew likes it. He does not draw the line too strictly, but 

 like the American backwoodsman, bethinks if there are men 

 within a mile or two of him, the world is getting too crowded. 

 That is probably the reason why in the thickly settled parts 

 of the province one rarely if ever comes across the curlew. 

 Personally I have never seen one anywhere near Shanghai. 

 Whimbrel are sometimes as common as snipe in spring, but 

 there is a big difference between the whimbrel and his com- 

 paratively giant-like relative. 



If there is any sportsman who does not admire the 

 curlew I have yet to meet him. If there is one who never 

 says hard words of him, he likewise is a rarity, for it is 

 tantalizing to see, as may be seen in winter when the birds 

 have become gregarious once more, an assemblage of scores 

 without the faintest chance of getting in range. Curlews 

 love the wilds, whether upland moors or long stretches of coast. 

 In either of these places they can see the approach of an enemy 

 from afar, and as they are always on the watch, getting to 

 close quarters is a difficult matter. 



