THHE WRETHAM MERES. 149 
tain their hopes of future progeny. Besides the Sky Lark and 
Corn Bunting, Pheasants, Partridges, and Red-legged Partridges 
nest beneath the furze. This likewise is a favourite haunt of the 
Nightjar, whose ‘‘reel”’ is such an interesting addition to the 
harmony of a summer’s eve, as he sits on the bare branch of a 
pine tree on the northern shore of Langmere. The Lapwing 
prefers the open country; associating with the Stone Curlew and 
Ringed Plover, the shrill whistle of the former and the mellow 
note of the latter making weird harmony with the mournful 
plaint of the Lapwing. The marshy spots and “ pitsteads”’ 
around the meres are tenanted for breeding purposes by the 
Snipe. 
The Black-headed Gull, or “Scoulton Peewit,” breeds 
sporadically by a little pond in an enclosed part of the heathland 
between Ringmere and Langmere. In 1883 there were about fifty 
nests, which on the 8th of June contained from one to three eggs 
each. Then for several years the nests were very few; and they have 
never reached the numbers of 1883 again. Possibly this may be 
because of the loss of eggs through the depredations of the local 
shepherds and gamekeepers. Last year there were but five 
nests; one of these was built in a very peculiar manner. Ona 
certain Sunday a Coot’s nest was noted a few yards from the 
shore. On the next Sunday a log had been thrown across this 
nest, and on the log was the nest of a Black-headed Gull contain- 
ing one egg. It is a matter for regret that these Gulls cannot be 
induced to stop in larger numbers, as their snowy, graceful forms 
on the newly-ploughed land is one of the prettiest imaginable 
sights in the district around the large mere at Scoulton—one of 
the best-known “ Gulleries”’ of this species. 
Langmere should perhaps be more correctly Long Mere, as 
it is a long, narrow sheet of water, divided by a promontory, 
on’which are some gaunt fir trees. Tradition says that these 
were not planted by the hand of man. At very long intervals 
this promontory becomes an island, and Langmere then is a 
sight to be remembered. Lying in the midst of a wild, scrubby 
heath, with never a sound but the wail of the Peewit or scream of 
a Gull, it is by far the most impressive of the meres. A dried-up, 
‘Starved, stalky growth of thistles forms the sole vegetation in the 
immediate neighbourhood of the mere. There is an eeriness, a 
