208 



THE ZOOLOGIST. 



SOME MUD-FIAT BIRD-NOTES. 

 By A. H. Patterson. 



That there is still much to be observed and noted concerning 

 the ways and doings of our British wild birds I am strongly con- 

 vinced. It seems, to me, a great pity that so little of the habits of 

 certain additional species of small land-birds, notably of Warblers 

 and allied forms, that will be listed in the next edition of Howard 

 Saunders's ' Manual,' is likely to be detailed, for the uncon- 

 trollable impulse to pull trigger upon a rare straggler to this 

 country leaves scant margin for dwelling upon its living interest. 

 The slaughter of a rare bird and the possession of its skin prin- 

 pally interests one person, but there the matter may perhaps 

 end for others who are little the wiser for its advent. 



Unfortunately for myself, opportunities for watching land- 

 birds are extremely limited ; those which haunt the oozy flats of 

 Breydon, however, come within easy range of my field-glasses, 

 and, strange as it seems to me, all has not been yet written that 

 might be said of common waders and equally commonplace 

 swimming birds. Even the Gulls are prone to develop new 

 habits, and change their tactics to suit new conditions of en- 

 vironment. For some years past it has been my practice, when 

 a bit run down or in want of a mild excitement, to fling my gear 

 into my old punt, up sail, and race away to the broad acres of 

 mud and muddy waters, and when thereamong to push her nose 

 into a "lump," slip in a stake to keep her from drifting, fling 

 about me a bit of sacking, and watch the birds that muster 

 around. On some days little is to be seen ; at other times some 

 goodly flocks of various species are about, and some hitherto 

 unknown or unobserved incident, to me, has thrust itself upon 

 my notice. 



I was much amused one August night by watching some old 

 and some very juvenile Herons feeding in the " drains," then 

 fast filling with the uprising flood. Like carven figures the 

 adult birds stood "knee-deep," not a feather moving, save the 

 plumy streamers on their wise old heads as the west wind toyed 

 with them. At various angles the} 7 stood, ready to thrust forth 



