GOLDEN PLOVER. 
3 
slain collected amounted to about from a dozen to half that number at each discharge. A squall shortly 
after blew over and the moon disappeared, and then my sport was at an end. The next night I again 
visited the spot, but unfortunately it was discovered that the majority of the Plovers had moved off, and 
not a hundred birds put in an appearance at the same hours when thousands had been distributed over the 
sandy bay the previous evening. The result of three or four shots was about a dozen brought to bag, 
and then I made my way homewards, following the course of the eel-burn for the chance of a shot. 
A large-winged stranger that flapped up, and which ought to have been recognized immediately in spite of 
the darkness, was knocked down, and proved to be an immature Ileron. I Avas in hopes it would turn 
out to be a Bittern or some strange wanderer of the Ileron tribe from the northern parts of Europe 
across the North Sea. 
