DWFT 
 
 from 
 
 LONG*- 
 
 mmm
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 Ex Libris 
 ISAAC FOOT
 
 Drift from Longshore
 
 RDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS
 
 From an original drawing by A* Thorbnrn.
 
 Drift from Longshore 
 
 /^A SON OF THE MARSHES,) 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 J. A. OWEN 
 
 WITH A FRONTISPIECE BY A. THORBURN 
 
 LONDON 
 
 HUTCHINSON & CO. 
 
 34 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C.
 
 QL
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 SOME of our readers and critics have com- 
 plained that the localities amongst which "A 
 Son of the Marshes" was brought up, and 
 where his observations in natural history 
 were first made, are too vaguely indicated 
 in the books already published. 
 
 To meet this objection I have, in editing 
 the present volume, added a few topo- 
 graphical details which will, I trust, serve 
 to give more definiteness to the scenes 
 therein described. 
 
 JEAN A. OWEN.
 
 DRIFT FROM LONGSHORE. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 RANGING THE DYKES. 
 
 MlLTON-NEXT-SlTTiNGBOURNE, the centre about 
 which these Marshland incidents are grouped, has 
 played no mean part in the history of our country. 
 " It lies," says an old writer, " as it were, hid among 
 the creeks, for it is almost out of sight, as well by 
 water as by land, and yet it is a large town, as it 
 is a considerable port for barges, and a capital 
 fishery for those oysters called Milton or Melton 
 oysters, which are so valuable." It is at the mouth 
 of the Swale opposite the Island of Sheppey, near 
 where the waters of the Thames and the Medway 
 meet. At the beginning of this century Milton 
 was little more than a long straggling fishing village 
 on the edge of the salt marshes, although it still 
 contained some buildings which spoke of former 
 prosperity and business activity. The hundred of 
 
 Milton held its Court leet which was said to have 
 1
 
 2 H>rift from Xonosbore. 
 
 been instituted by King Alfred the Great, and 
 had its Portrieve, an official chosen on St. James's 
 day, whose office it was to govern the town and to 
 supervise the weights and measures in use in the 
 hundred. 
 
 The town was attacked by the Danish pirate, 
 Hastings, in Alfred the Great's time. In ancient 
 times the kings of Kent resided there, for which 
 reason it was termed " The Royal Villa of Middle- 
 ton ". The royal palace was burned down by Earl 
 Godwin and his sons in the reign of Edward the 
 Confessor. In Charles the First's reign it was a 
 manor held in dowry by the queen. The fine old 
 Church of Milton, which is dedicated to the Holy 
 Trinity, about a mile from the town, had some very 
 fine and curious monuments and brasses, and its 
 grand old walnut trees were the pride of the sur- 
 rounding marshes. 
 
 The Isle of Sheppey or Shepey is so called, some 
 will tell you, from its having been one of the 
 first places in England where sheep were kept. 
 More probably because so many of these animals 
 were bred there. The island contains many tumuli 
 coterels, the natives call them which are sup- 
 posed to mark the burial places of certain Danish 
 officers.
 
 tbe 2>fees. 3 
 
 The passage from the Kentish mainland used to 
 be made by King's Ferry ; a cable 140 fathoms in 
 length was fastened at each end across the water, 
 and the boat was towed over. Twenty-one miles 
 in circumference, the island formerly yielded plenty 
 of corn. Sheerness and Queenborough are situated 
 on it, the former guarding the entrance into the 
 Thames at the point where the West Swale falls 
 into it. 
 
 Queenborough stands near the point of the Isle 
 of Sheppey where the East Swale parts from the 
 West, about four miles north of Milton. It received 
 its name from King Edward the Third, in honour of 
 Queen Philippa, who was daughter to William, Earl 
 of Hainault and Holland. The king also had a 
 castle erected there, as, a defence of the river Med- 
 way. It was repaired in 1536 by Henry the Eighth 
 at the time when he built the castles of Deal and 
 Walmer, with others for the defence of the sea- 
 coasts. A writer about the year 1790 describes 
 Queenborough as being in his day " only a miser- 
 able, dirty fishing town" in which, although it 
 boasted of a mayor and two bailiffs, "the chief 
 traders seemed to be ale-house keepers and oyster 
 catchers ". 
 
 The Marshlands and the " Saltings " as they
 
 4 Drift from Zongsbore. 
 
 are called were, in the vicinity of Milton, a grand 
 gathering place for wild life ; the sportsman and the 
 naturalist found ample satisfaction in these haunts 
 of the wild fowl. Now, however, I regret to say, the 
 old fowling haunts have, many of them, been im- 
 proved away. Among these it was that for six weeks, 
 once, I was out fowling in the hardest, black-freez- 
 ing weather that the oldest dweller in the place had 
 ever experienced. Our winters are far more open 
 at the present time than they were forty years ago. 
 A silent town, composed of one long street, and 
 the men are walking backwards and forwards on 
 the hard trampled snow in front of their houses as 
 if they were on the decks of their vessels. All day 
 long this restless tramping to and fro might be 
 seen, turn and turn about. Every one of those 
 sea-booted and thickly guernseyed fishermen and 
 fowlers was smoking. Now and then one would 
 take his pipe out of his mouth to speak to a neigh- 
 bour who was pacing about on the other side of 
 the street, respecting the state of the weather ; that 
 was the chief topic ; and how much longer it was 
 likely to last. Stout hearts they needed to bear 
 the roughnesses of that hard time ; but they got 
 through, as they said in their simple fashion, with 
 God's help, some way ; though how, they would
 
 tbe 2>fces. 5 
 
 not have been able to tell you ; and no one would 
 have asked. Those that could help did their best, 
 and when matters got better again their goodness 
 was remembered and repaid. 
 
 Quays, shipyards, and wharves are all silent, the 
 quiet of the snow is over all. Brigs, luggers, barges, 
 sprat- and shrimp-boats, also long-liners could be 
 seen in that land-locked harbour, ice bound, when 
 the tide was up ; then those who had got to their 
 vessels at the ebb, over the ice hummocks had 
 enough to do to prevent mischief. Stout " fenders " 
 were hung over the sides of the various crafts in 
 case one or the other should break from its 
 moorings. Some of them did this, causing a rare 
 to-do, with the ice heaving up, toppling over, 
 grinding and crunching as if each block was a wild 
 beast. So far as the noise went it was like twenty 
 menageries at feeding time. From the harbour to 
 the ferry, five miles below, this was the state of 
 matters with all crafts that had got locked in. If 
 the ice had gone out to sea, with the ebb, it would 
 not have been so bad, but it did not do this. The 
 winding channel, although it allowed matter to 
 float up, and hang, from tide to tide for the whole 
 of the ice came up from open water, being sea-borne 
 prevented it from going out again. All skiffs
 
 6 Drift from Xonosborc. 
 
 and punts were hauled aboard or they would have 
 been ground into splinters. 
 
 When vessels like these are locked there is no- 
 telling what may take place, if some of the crew 
 are not aboard day and night. Cables get frayed 
 and weakened by the rough edges of the ice blocks 
 sawing against them ; until at last there is a long 
 heave up, and a heavier strain ; a snap is heard 
 and off she goes, swinging round, broadside on. 
 All this means a lot of hard, dangerous work, and 
 there is nothing to be got from it. It is not so 
 much the question where a full tide may float a 
 vessel to, that has got adrift ; but where the tide 
 may leave it. 
 
 But a change was certainly coming, so the elder 
 men said, although to all appearance matters were 
 worse than they had been. When asked to give 
 a reason for their hope, all that could be got out 
 of the men was that " they knowed it". 
 
 The fact was they had been watching the move- 
 ments of the fowl for some time. I also watched a 
 vast host of fowl, high up, looking no larger than 
 starlings, that were making at full bat for the North 
 Sea; "hard-weathers," as they call them, going 
 home. Birds that from their way of flying had 
 evidently never rested on any part of that foreshore,
 
 Hanging tbe Htyftes. 7 
 
 cobs, the black-backed gulls, of both species, mature 
 and immature, hovered round and about lonely 
 farms on the flats. One morning a North Sea gull, 
 the burgomaster, or, as it is sometimes called, the 
 great gull, passed not thirty feet away from us. If 
 my gun had not been left at home he might have 
 been persuaded to remain with us, at least for a 
 time. 
 
 This bird, like one or two more of the same 
 species that I have seen in the course of years, was 
 in immature plumage ; tidal rivers, teeming with 
 fish at their mouths, are sure to attract rare birds 
 in hard times. 
 
 When predaceous gulls leave off hovering over 
 farmyards and make away over the water it is 
 a good omen ; for something tells them their frozen- 
 out haunts are open once more. Fieldfares that 
 had not been seen for weeks had been reported as 
 feebly clacking in twos and threes round about 
 some thick hedges close to one of the open springs ; 
 sure signs these that a change would come. Dun- 
 crows had come back again from somewhere and 
 then departed, having only come to look round ; 
 there would be more than enough for them to gorge 
 on presently. The last and surest sign of all was 
 that wild- swans are seen high up, looking the size
 
 8 H>rtft from Xon^sbore. 
 
 of geese, making, at full speed, a course due north. 
 Yes, they reckoned it wouldn't be long now before 
 a change came of some sort. And when one of 
 the lookers, who had come in from the flats for 
 bread, told them that he had seen a freshly 
 turned-up mole heap under the lee of a reed stack, 
 they were right glad to hear it, for the change 
 might come before night. 
 
 It certainly did come ; in the afternoon snow 
 fell thick and fast. Some went to bed heavy- 
 hearted, passing some far from complimentary re- 
 marks on those who had so confidently foretold 
 better things. But it rained in the night, a regular 
 downpour, clearing up as it got light ; then the 
 wind set dead south and kept there. As we were 
 thinking over this very sudden change, one of our 
 friends hailed up with the information that now was 
 our time or, as he expressed it, never. 
 
 As they passed three parts of their lives on the 
 water, hailing a body before they reached him was 
 the universal custom ; but unless it was as they 
 termed it " sumthin' extra pertickler," they were 
 quiet enough about some matters. When this man 
 reached us he once more informed us in more sub- 
 dued tones that now or never was our chance for a 
 pull at fowl. " Why, no one but a madman would
 
 TRanaittQ tbe Bsfees. 9 
 
 go out in weather like this ; the frozen snow with 
 this wash of rain on it is like a sheet of ice, and 
 on the flats it will be ten times worse than it is 
 here." 
 
 " I knows it will ; tell me sumthin' I don't know. 
 Git yer gun an' cum on, you wun't fall, I shan't let 
 ye." Having good faith in my informant, I got my 
 gun and went home with him. 
 
 " Now, look here, two pairs o' old fishin' stockings, 
 see 'em ! My old gal darned an' sponged away at 
 'em till she's nearly got double worsted soles on 
 'em fresh footed' em ; but these 'ere wun't goo 
 aboard agin, so down you sets an' has 'em put on 
 over yer lace-ups an' trousers. Now, how do ye 
 fancy yerself ? You culd git on ice as smooth as a 
 lookin'-glass, an' you wouldn't slip nowhow. But I 
 ain't done with ye yit, I'm agoin' to lash 'em jist 
 below yer knee, an' turn 'em down over, so as if ye 
 do go on one o' yer knees but ye wun't this 'ere 
 springy roll o' worsted will keep ye frum goin' on 
 yer knee-cap, my son. I ain't done yit ; hold yer 
 feet up ; put 'em over this cheer." 
 
 Then in sailor fashion he lashed round some new 
 tarred string. " There now, fall down on ice or 
 slippery snow if ye ken. Now, I'm agoin' to over- 
 haul myself."
 
 10 Drift from SLon^sbore. 
 
 Some of our readers may not have been in one of 
 our very old sea-board towns in a genial thaw, after 
 deep snow and hard weather. They can only be 
 described as full of water, above and below ; torrents 
 of water rush down either side of the narrow streets, 
 supplemented by the grinning heads of old lead 
 waterspouts, fashioned each after some quaint impish 
 device. These, in most cases, deliver their catar- 
 acts of dirty water over the pavement into the 
 gutter. Things are altered now, but in some places 
 it has only been done quite recently. 
 
 To avoid this damp state of things, as well as 
 any complimentary remarks on my stockinged feet 
 and legs, I thought it advisable to go through a 
 large orchard down to the foot of the sea wall, 
 which is just wide enough on the top for a couple 
 to walk side by side. As we got near the first large 
 sluice, my friend exclaimed : " Look at him there, 
 he is hard at it. An' I reckoned we'd be fust down, 
 but it don't matter a bit ; it's only old Finny 
 Bullrout, ketchin' eels ; ain't he prongin' on 'em out ? 
 He's a dabster at eel spearin'." 
 
 This man had got his nickname at school, where 
 one day he'd been playing up some pranks and got 
 larrupped. He had been coddled up at home and 
 that was the first time he had been larrupped at
 
 tbe HJpfces, 11 
 
 school. So when he held out his hands, both of 
 them, and the cane came down whack, the boys said 
 he opened his mouth an eyes "just like them 'ere 
 bullrouts, Miller's thumbs, what lays under stones," 
 and the man had gone by the name of Finny 
 Bullrout ever since. He had seen something of the 
 world, had fought " the Frenchers," and been taken 
 prisoner by them ; he was with them two years. 
 
 "An' what do ye think? He said as them 'ere 
 Frenchers larnt him to cook ! " said my companion. 
 " As if 'twas possible they knowed anything about 
 cookin' ! An' he told me as they eats lots o' things 
 as we don't look at ; he went on tellin' me till I got 
 sick on it, sallets an' love apples [tomatoes] an' one 
 mess an' another, till I sez to him, ' I knows they 
 does, Finny, why, damn 'em, they eats frogs '. 
 
 " Well, you'd hardly believe it, but if he didn't 
 hit me a clinker fur runnin' down his friends as he 
 called 'em what larnt him to cook. He got it back 
 agin, but Finny is a bad handful when he's riled. 
 Ain't they fine uns now? and don't he fork 'em out 
 on it? He'll git home with 'em an' cook 'em fur 
 his fambly, Mounseer fashion. I wonder he ain't 
 pisened the lot on 'em afore now, and hisself inter 
 the bargain. 
 
 " Here ye are ; here's the lookers' plank in the
 
 12 H)rift from Xonosbore. 
 
 reeds ; we'll run her over and git in the ma'sh ; 
 let's look roun' 'an see what's movin' ; I don't like 
 the look on it much, there seems to be a leetle too 
 much on the move. See them gulls? there they 
 goo, all makin' fur open sea ; no sprat on a hook 
 will ketch 'em now, an' here cums some more dun- 
 crows. Look, look ! wigeon an' dun-birds makin' 
 right for the black water. Ain't they flyin' high ? 
 It's a reg'lar shift o' feedin'-grounds. When they 
 clears frum a place 'tain't much use lookin' fur 'em. 
 'Tis a reg'lar shift out, but we'll try our luck." 
 
 It is a well-known fact that fowl, like trout, are 
 met with in places that do not look at all likely to 
 hold them, so that, bare as the dykes appeared, I 
 asked my friend to beat his side of them up ; as a 
 matter of course each of us being out of the other's 
 range of fire. 
 
 Queck queck queck ! a mallard rises in front 
 of our companion and falls to his shot ; first bird to 
 him. Something projects from a tuft of marsh 
 growth half covered with snow. This we find to 
 be the hind legs of a poor hare, all that the crows 
 and gulls had left, beyond a few bones. 
 
 Considering over this little matter causes me to 
 let a full snipe get away from us without a chance 
 of a shot ; a very poor start certainly. Another
 
 Ranging tbe Dpfees. is 
 
 shot from our friend's side, but if it is a lucky one 
 we are not able to see, as he is ranging by some 
 old pollard willows. About sixty yards away a 
 small wader, judging from its flight, dashes into 
 some broken-down reeds. Thinking that it may 
 be worth looking up, as we are anxious for a cer- 
 tain species to fall into our hands, we cautiously 
 move that way and put him out. 
 
 The bird dropped to the shot, and from its very 
 light colour I thought that at last I had got what I 
 required. When I picked it up it proved to be a 
 miserable bleached-out dunlin ; and to add to my 
 disgust three dun-birds poachards rose from a 
 marsh-drain sluice, a near and easy shot, and I 
 was unloaded ! That dunlin was left for the 
 crows. 
 
 Sometimes matters will go crooked ; walking up 
 and down and round about in snow-slush is not 
 cheerful, so just for a change we hail our friend in 
 order to compare our luck. Besides his mallard he 
 has got nothing ; and that is barely worth taking 
 home. He has found, he tells us, on his beat, four 
 starved snipes ; that is, the heads with the bills 
 attached and some feathers. Mice eat dead crea- 
 tures as well as crows and gulls ; no matter how 
 hard the weather may be the little creatures are out
 
 14 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 at night on the snow. In hard times fowl get dazed 
 to a certain degree ; but let a quick thaw come, and 
 there they are with all their wits about them as 
 keen as ever, if they are half starved. When one 
 says dazed, by that one means they are in such a 
 state that you can get near enough to them to shoot 
 without crawling. 
 
 There is a very great difference in the movement 
 of fowl when the weather only breaks for a short 
 time. They may shift about a little from shore to 
 shore, but they do not get right away. What it 
 is call it instinct or reason, anything you please 
 that tells them their northern homes will be free 
 and open for them to nest in and rear their young 
 in peace and security, no man knows, or ever will 
 know. 
 
 Cobs and dun-crows beat all over the place in the 
 most systematic manner when such a thaw comes 
 as above mentioned, for they know that creatures 
 are lying dead under the snow that will find them in 
 food for days to come ; but the tactics of the birds 
 are very different. The cob, with steady even 
 flight, quarters his ground, now and again giving out 
 his barking cackle as some morsel or other catches 
 his keen eyes. A grand bird he looks in his pure 
 plumage of dark slate colour and white ; and a
 
 Hanging tbe Dsfees. is 
 
 tempting shot. But no amount of scheming will 
 get you that, for, before he trusted himself so low 
 down as he is at present, he had made a minute in- 
 vestigation of the whole marsh, whilst still so high 
 up that only a rifle would reach him. The cob 
 knows that his enemies are about with guns, and he 
 does not intend to let them get near him. When 
 these birds are on the hunt in this way, sport is com- 
 pletely spoilt ; for it does not matter in the least 
 to the cob, if he can get at them, whether the fowl 
 are alive or dead. That beating to and fro makes 
 them restless and uneasy, and sometimes hungry 
 birds will force their way into broken reed and 
 sedge tangle to spatter and nozzle for food. If the 
 cob comes that way, and they are not able to get 
 out quick enongh, he will have them. 
 
 Still the cob is a noble and open-minded bird 
 compared with the dun-crow, the hooded crow of 
 the foreshores. No matter where you may see him, 
 or what he may be about, his general conduct would 
 lead you to believe that he was merely looking 
 about for amusement, up and down out over the 
 water, just far enough to see if any prey, such as a 
 dead fish or fowl, is washing in. If there is, there 
 will not be any sign made on his part, for he does 
 not wish the gulls to share the spoil if he can help it.
 
 16 Drift from SLongsbore. 
 
 So he flaps to the beach and out again, just to make 
 sure that it is coming ashore all right. Then he 
 gorbles to himself a little ; his prey comes nearer and 
 nearer and Hoody gets quite excited. This wave 
 must beach it he thinks ; but no, as the wave re- 
 cedes, his large fish a dead skate goes with it. 
 He hops, with half open wings and throat feathers 
 puffed out, down to the very edge of the water, but 
 springs up quickly and plumps himself down on the 
 beach well above high-water mark; for his varied 
 experience as a black and grey beach-comber has 
 taught him that the next long roller will have more 
 force in it. Perched on a large stone, with keen 
 eye and outstretched neck, the bird sees it gather, 
 a mile out. On it comes, gathering in force as it 
 begins to crest up, until with a crash it breaks, and 
 Hoody's dead fish is flung high and dry almost at 
 his feet. 
 
 Very learned theories have been published as to 
 how and why birds of a certain class are able to tell 
 when one or more of the species they belong to 
 have, by their own searching or by mere accident, 
 found out a liberal food supply. But can the 
 writers of such theories as these, at any period of 
 their lives, ever have made a companion of a bird, 
 one of the Great Creator's most perfect works ?
 
 tRanging tbe Bpfees. 17 
 
 I think not. If a small creature like a bullfinch 
 can tell when his mistress is going out ; and not 
 only that, but he will welcome her back with all 
 the notes his little throat could get out before 
 she was barely near enough for a dog to make 
 out for certain, such a fact alone proves that 
 birds' eyes are far-seeing. Many times has my 
 wife placed her bullfinch's cage the length of three 
 rooms away, one leading direct to the other, with 
 the door open it was rarely closed and he would 
 be busily engaged on a small plum twig, full of 
 buds, that I had cut for him, when, just to test his 
 keenness of vision, she has held the pip from an 
 apple that I had been eating, between her finger 
 and thumb, and stood in the doorway farthest from 
 him. The bird has looked ; down went his twig ; 
 out of his cage he dashed and he was on her 
 shoulder with crest raised and breast feathers puffed 
 out, singing to her for his apple pip. 
 
 All birds have, more or less, telescopic sight, so to 
 speak, and some of them have it to a wonderful 
 degree. To return to our crow. Hardly had he 
 found time to give one or two vicious digs at the 
 now tender skin in order to get at his highly flavoured 
 meat, when from all points of the compass other 
 crows came shooting along, like so many hawks, to
 
 is Drift trom Xonasbore. 
 
 join in the fish banquet. It was not long before 
 they had transferred that luscious morsel to their 
 crops. We could have knocked one or two of them 
 over easily, but on no account would we have done 
 so, for they were doing their appointed work 
 honestly and well, that of clearing up the refuse of 
 the tide. 
 
 Just one word of caution ; if in the cause of 
 science you require a dun-crow, do not shoot 
 one after it has been feeding on tender fish, and 
 take it into the house ; if you do, you will probably 
 rue it. 
 
 So far as shooting went, on the day in question, 
 I fired off my charge in the air, tramped over to 
 the friend who had not fared much better, and told 
 him I would meet him at the big sluice in an hour's 
 time, as I intended going over to one of the "lookers" 
 for a short chat. From him I knew we could get 
 an account of the state of things, as they had been 
 during that bitter time. Briefly told, it amounted 
 to this, keeping open a track to the cattle and the 
 sheep shed, to feed and to water these, was all they 
 had been able to do ; from the outside world they 
 had been completely cut off for weeks. Some- 
 times, when the snow as it fell was driven in blind- 
 ing masses of clouds, he and his helpers had had to
 
 tbe Bsfees. 19 
 
 trust to their rough-coated dogs to guide them safe 
 back home. In many cases their low cottages were 
 covered up to the chimneys, where the wind had 
 hurled it along. Just imagine what the life of it all 
 must have been ! 
 
 The days were short and the nights were long, 
 bitter cold and dreary, but in spite of all they 
 were not cheerless, when shutters were closed and 
 the doors barred for the night. It did not make 
 the least difference what the conversation might 
 start upon, in less than half an hour it would cer- 
 tainly drift into the ways of fowl, and the traditions 
 of the marshes and the foreshores. And not on 
 any account would we have had it otherwise ; for 
 the tales were told in the very places where the 
 incidents had taken place. As to the fowl they 
 were all about us, we could hear them honking, 
 croaking, quarking and whistling as we sat in a 
 warm nook of the wide settle-seated fireplace. 
 Nothing could be better; indeed from childhood 
 I was filled with marsh-lore by those to whom by 
 blood and race I belonged. 
 
 Regarding their supply for the table, it was 
 certainly limited, although there was abundance 
 to choose from. Certain creatures they would eat, 
 others they would not, and there it ended. Cod-
 
 20 E)rift from %on0sbore. 
 
 fish, thornbacks, skate, mackerel, herring, sprats 
 and flounders ; these were eaten in very limited 
 quantities when other provender could not be got.. 
 
 Our shell-fish list comprised lobsters, oysters, 
 whelks and winkles, shrimps occasionally. Crabs- 
 were only caught and cooked by the boys, and 
 that all depended on what else had come ashore 
 in crab time. Eels, either conger or silver bellied 
 eels, such as Finny was spearing for his family, 
 we never saw cooked by others, although they are 
 capital eating. In fact in southern counties, well 
 inland, they are considered as luxuries. 
 
 Why there should have been such a deep-rooted 
 antipathy to eels, I do not know ; but from some 
 of our old fishing friends on the coast I have heard 
 statements which are not in their favour as clean 
 feeders. My own prejudice against them is not so 
 strong ; if I got a good silver eel from a trout 
 stream I should certainly try to eat him, but not 
 one from a sea-wall sluice. They are, we know, 
 as fresh and clean there, as any fish can be, but 
 it is a grim place to look at, and grim objects float 
 to such at times. Speaking of old Finny, no one 
 could cook fish and place it on the table in better 
 style. As to a kettle of soup, there again he was a 
 master ; and he made it out of ox-tails that the
 
 
 Hanging tbe H)kes. 21 
 
 butchers let him have, with compassionate smiles, 
 for a merely nominal price, a few pence ; yet not 
 one of Finny's neighbours would taste his delicious 
 soup, for they " waun't agoin' tu hev eny o' his 
 Frenchers' kickshaw muck; 'twas a reg'lar witch - 
 pot ; an' if him an' his fambly hadn't got leather 
 .aperns inside on 'em instead o' stomachs, all the lot 
 on 'em would ha' bin dead long ago ". 
 
 Strange to tell, although they were so bitter 
 against Frenchers, they dearly loved and cherished 
 certain products that came direct from the conti- 
 nent. These prized articles were not in the muck 
 catalogue. With a strange inconsistency, they not 
 only fought with the Frenchers but they fought with 
 the preventive officers at times, in defending a 
 Frencher's cargo of contraband. 
 
 Leaving our acquaintance, the looker, we make 
 our way to the big sluice in order to meet our 
 friend. When we arrive there we find him wiping 
 his face with his hand, for it is bleeding. He had, 
 he said, put in a stiff charge for a shot at the cob 
 that had in his opinion upset the few fowl about. 
 Crouching under a reed stack, he had fired at long 
 range, and the extra charge had blown the nipple 
 out, scoring his face ; it might have been much 
 worse.
 
 22 Brift from Xonasbore. 
 
 It had not improved his temper. " Well, what 
 do ye think on it now ? This 'ere mallard wun't git 
 took home, if I knows it. Come out on it, you 
 razor-breasted warmint, an' flop in theer, tu feed 
 old Pinny's eels." As the tide was going out it 
 vanished through the sluice and into the tide, food 
 for the gulls when they found it. 
 
 Dearly bought experience, if not pleasant at the 
 time, is of value in after years ; for it teaches you 
 when to leave certain matters alone. Sometimes, 
 under some lucky chance, you may get fowl, when 
 ice breaks up ; but as a rule it will be on the tide 
 and not along shore. 
 
 Something tells them that there will not be any 
 more winter, and the birds are all on the look-out, 
 ready for a move. If it could be seen, their food 
 supply, after a long spell of being ice-locked and 
 tight bound, must be beyond all calculation. Miles 
 of nourishing grass, Zostera, all ready for them, cut 
 by the ice-floes ; the sand ploughed up by the ice 
 also. Each tide levels it again, but thousands of 
 creatures are turned up out of it for the fowl. Day 
 by day they gather on open water, and the hen- 
 footed ones on the sand-bars. Then they depart for a 
 time. There will not be the least chance of meeting 
 with them when ranging the dykes in summer time.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OLD GUNS AND THEIR OWNERS. 
 
 OLD fowling-pieces have very great attractions for 
 me, no matter what they may be double or single 
 barrelled, flint-locks, or those that have been altered 
 from flintfire to percussion I have in my time 
 used both. The shooters I associated with for 
 years did not rely on Joe Manton's or Purdey's, 
 although many owned grand guns by these cele- 
 brated; makers, which, for the purpose they were 
 used for, were all that could be desired. As, of our 
 small population, at least three parts sailed the seas, 
 they were continually looking out for guns at the 
 ports their vessels put in at ; Spain, France, Holland 
 and Norway all provided guns for them to use, 
 and good ones. In those practical times much 
 thought was given to the perfecting of guns for 
 killing fowl in localities where they gathered in 
 clouds, numbers past all belief. 
 
 The four countries above named were of course the 
 
 nearest to us, but some of our men had visited wilder 
 (23)
 
 24 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 lands, and sailed the Spanish Main. These brought 
 home beautiful Spanish guns, and pistols with brass 
 barrels that rang out like a bell. And other matters 
 also. Their summer voyages over and the cargo dis- 
 posed of, their vessels were docked, and their various 
 crews passed the autumn and winter months in fish- 
 ing and fowling along the shore. So far as the 
 fishing went, the land was not entirely lost sight of. 
 
 I have frequently seen flint guns in the posses- 
 sion of men who were but roughly clad ; with silver 
 inlays over the stock, and a beautiful inlaid gold 
 scroll running from the breech. 
 
 No one must think for one moment that the 
 owners of those precious guns did not know their 
 value ; indeed very communicative they became 
 about them as to what they had done, and what 
 they would yet do when the chance offered ; but 
 on one subject they were silent ; and no one ever 
 dreamed for one moment of asking how they got 
 them. The mechanism of their locks was perfect, 
 and the sweet click-click, from half to full cock, was 
 a treat to hear. 
 
 I wish to give some account of one or two best 
 known to me at that time, and of the men who 
 owned them. 
 
 As one of my near relatives at one time held the
 
 lfc Guns ant) TCbeir Owners, 25 
 
 office of portrieve, he had great interest in one way 
 and another with the coast trading community. 
 Owing to this I was early initiated in much that 
 was not generally discussed. 
 
 " What cheer ? my son alive ! What cheer ? 
 Where ha' you bin all these days ? I bin lookin' fur 
 ye up street an' down. I've took her to pieces, 
 lock, stock an' barrel. You cum up to my cabin 
 an' hev a look at her." 
 
 Old " Crimps' cabin," as he called it, was one out 
 of a dozen low-gabled houses that lined one side of 
 a water lane or road, call it what you will, close to 
 a large deserted quay. 
 
 It was far enough away to be out of the flood- 
 tide range, as three steps led down from the cobble- 
 paved pathway into Crimps', or, as he was usually 
 called, Crimper's, clean little front room ; this he 
 considered was a lucky circumstance when the high 
 tides came up. Glass was dear in those days, only 
 one kind, which was called crown glass, being used 
 for general purposes. The consequence was that 
 windows were not made very large in ordinary 
 houses. The window that lit up Crimper's cabin 
 was about four feet long and three feet high, the 
 squares being small. A space of eight or nine 
 inches was between the window-sill and the cobble
 
 26 H)rift from Xonasbore. 
 
 paving, and as the whole window was not shoulder 
 high nothing could be seen inside the room as you 
 passed along, unless some inquisitive being stooped 
 for the purpose of looking in. This had been done 
 once or twice, but so fiercely had the liberty been 
 resented by Crimper case-hardened, hard-handed, 
 loud-voiced old sea-dog that he was that so far as 
 his particular cabin light was concerned it was soon 
 passed by unnoticed. The bedroom window pro- 
 jected over the pavement ; this he called the upper 
 deck. Seven or eight of the small squares had been 
 broken at different times by various accidents, for 
 crown glass, although very dear, is very thin. These 
 had been replaced by knot squares, because they 
 were cheaper, those with the lump of glass in their 
 centre, where the rod of the glass-blower had been 
 broken off when the glass was made. The knot 
 squares naturally give out prismatic reflections ; as 
 Crimper observed, they made his cabin look a bit 
 peacocky ; in fact the old fellow had got without 
 knowing it, at a cheap rate, some of the aesthetic 
 effects of more modern times. 
 
 One visit I made to him will never be forgotten. 
 It is wonderful how the most trivial matters come 
 before one in later years, distinct and clear as they 
 were at the time.
 
 lt> (Buns anfc Ubeir wners. 27 
 
 " Cum aboord, my son," he cried, " cum aboord, 
 down in the cabin, there's only mother here mendin' 
 up one o' my old guernseys. Here he is, mother, 
 cum to see us again at last" I had been absent 
 for a few years and was revisiting the haunts of 
 my boyhood. 
 
 " Hev a look roun' ; there's sum fresh odds an' 
 ends about what ye ain't sin, I reckins." 
 
 On the sides of the two oak beams that ran 
 through the room a fine collection of glass-work 
 was fixed by soft wash-leather loops, glass walking- 
 sticks ; curious bottles with sand pictures in them, 
 cleverly executed ; glass rolling-pins of the richest 
 colours ; bunches of sea-weeds from warmer waters 
 than ours, mixed with coral sprays, red and white, 
 were all arranged on the sides of those beams. 
 
 On the under side of one beam in the centre of 
 the room, fixed by leather loops, was a fine saw- 
 fish blade, on the other a narwhal horn. Shells 
 were on the mantel ; never yet a rover's chimney- 
 piece in our fishing village without these, and good 
 ones too. Strings of cowrie shells niggers' money 
 the old boy called them and monstrous beetles 
 under glass, all arranged in most excellent taste 
 because it was done naturally, without any at- 
 tempts at effect.
 
 28 2>rtft from Xonssbore. 
 
 A couple of long upright bottles, securely corked 
 and covered over with sealing wax, claimed for a 
 time my undivided attention ; he told me one had 
 come from the East and the other from the West 
 Indies. In the thinnest one was what he called 
 the dance-snake, and the other was the rat-snake 
 of the sugar-cane fields, " both on them deadly 
 wenemous ". Little did I know at the time that 
 these were fine specimens, preserved in white rum, 
 of the cobra and the fer-de-lance. 
 
 " When you're full o' them sarpints, just look this 
 way, fur here she is, lock, stock an" barril, all laid 
 out ship-shape on the table. An", mother, didn't 
 you say as you'd like tu run down an' see how our 
 Polly's gettin' on ? now's your time, fur I reckins as 
 we shall yarn away for a full hour an' it may be a 
 couple, so don't you hurry yerself. I'll cum an' 
 fetch ye. What do ye think o' that now ? 'Twill 
 put ye in mind o' our courtin' days wun't it ? 
 
 " There, now the old gal's gone, we ken dive into 
 matters. She's a good un, good as untold gold she 
 is ; but, ye see, my son, wimmen folks can never 
 enter inter the natur' an' full valler of guns, not sich 
 a double-barrelled one as she is, on this 'ere table. 
 Your kinsman livin' just up above," he alluded to 
 the well-to-do relative of mine already mentioned,
 
 lt> Gnus an> Ubeir wners. 29 
 
 " has sin her an 1 looked her over, an' he says as 
 she's a real beauty. It's most sing'lar how him 
 and me once rowed together a bit, not in the same 
 boat, not by no means he's one no livin' soul could 
 iver say as they knowed more about him than he 
 cared to tell, an' that's allus little enough ; but you 
 knows the quake-slubs due east, in a line of the 
 'coy, an' you knows nothin' heavier than a curlew's 
 able tu get along over 'em." 
 
 " I know them, worse luck." 
 
 " An' you knows how steep they dip down tu 
 the crik channel ; it's narrow, you ken lay there 
 when the tide is out an' no livin' soul ken see ye 
 but you ken squint up out on it an' see who's on the 
 sea-wall ; lookin' up and lookin' down's two different 
 things. Well, the fowl was flittin' from the 'coy, an' 
 your kinsman piped a couple o' mallards hit them 
 in the head an' down they plumped a'most inter 
 my punt. I jist reached over an' picked 'em out o' 
 the water. Rover was goin' fur 'em ; there ain't the 
 ekal o' that dog about, he's a fine feller, as good as 
 he is big. But he sings out, high an' mighty, it did 
 ring out 'Come back,' and Rover cum an' laid 
 down at his feet. I've heerd say as that 'ere dog 
 has niver bin hit or kicked by him, from the time 
 he was a pup. An' no critter would like tu try it
 
 30 2>rfft from XonQsbore. 
 
 on now. Well, the long an' the short on it was 
 this : arter I'd got home, when it was dark, I took 
 the mallards up tu him, an' told him all about it 
 'Thank you, I'll remember it,' he says, an' I 
 cum away. But bless yer heart alive, two days 
 arter, I found this 'ere flask, look at it, ain't it 
 prime? full of the finest powder, fine as silk, fur 
 me tu prime her with. Roun' the neck on it I 
 ain't pulled it off on that 'ere bit o' paper, you'll 
 see summat. ' For the ducks.' I liked that. Look 
 at the stock on her, 'tis like the shine on sum o' 
 them old fiddles, an' look at the barrils. ' Down- 
 hill-Jemmy ' the gunsmith says as they're the finest 
 pair o' twisted barrils as iver he clapt eyes on. 
 
 " An' look at the flints I got fur her ; why, I tried 
 one on 'em afore I took her tu pieces, an' a shower 
 o' sparks went inter the pan. He must ha' knowed 
 about one or two misfires through the powder as 
 I've hed ; but there wun't be none now I've got this 
 fine silky priming. 
 
 " As you knows about matters in a general way 
 like, I don't mind tellin' ye how I got her. She 
 was part o' my sal wage frum a left wessel ; an' a 
 fine ship she was, too. The lugger and the brig got 
 near ; but no, none o' our help would the capt'in 
 hev ! so she went on the sands in a gale ; we got
 
 (Buns ant> Ubeir Owners, 31 
 
 the crew off all right aboord the brig, not a soul was 
 lost. Then as they had plenty aboord, four o' the 
 brig's crew cum on the lugger, an' we made fur 
 where she'd struck. She'd only jist nosed it like, 
 but fur all that, she was fast ; an' was soggin' her 
 way in deeper. 
 
 " Talk about bein' 'twixt the devil and the deep 
 sea, there it was in front on ye. Her mainmast 
 went by the boord before we could reach her. I 
 got aboord, an" one or two others, an', tu cut it short, 
 the lugger and the brig got her off. In goin' below 
 tu see if any part o' her cargo hed broke bulk, this 
 'ere gun got in the way, in the captain's cabin. So 
 I took keer of her, an' hev done iver since. 
 
 "It was a good job fur all on us, fur we saved the 
 crew an' the ship as well ; an' the salwage was 
 most uncommon heavy. So ye see she was boun' 
 tu be a little bit extra-like. Look at her ! " 
 
 In those days the rights of the foreshores, with 
 flotsam and jetsam thereto belonging, were not at 
 times fully entered into ; cases of arms have been 
 washed ashore on more than one portion of our 
 coast lines, and other matters as well. The coast- 
 guard service was not as it is now, nor yet the grand 
 life-boat service along the shores for the saving of 
 ships' crews, and if possible the ships also. Steam-
 
 32 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 tugs and life-boats, with the light-houses and light- 
 ships, may well be called the guardians of our 
 coasts. Men and women now living remember 
 the time when this dangerous work not disinter- 
 ested by any means, we will allow that was done 
 by vessels such as those I have mentioned ; luggers 
 and staunch brigs fitted out with all kinds of gear 
 for aiding ships in distress. If at such times small 
 articles were lost, and never inquired for, it mattered 
 little so long as the crew and ship were saved. 
 
 Into whose hands that fine fowling-piece ulti- 
 mately passed when old "Crimper" finally dropt 
 anchor I never knew, I had left the coast then. 
 A better weapon, so far as we are able to judge, 
 never went up to a man's shoulder ; gauged for 
 bullets sixteen to the pound, it could be used for 
 either bullets or shot as occasion required. Per- 
 sonal insults our old friend would let pass un- 
 heeded ; but cast any slight on his double barrel, 
 inlaid as he proudly stated with real gold and silver, 
 and you had no mean foe to deal with. 
 
 Rare fine bunches of fowl did Crimper bring in 
 from the flats and the tide. The houses like his 
 own were inhabited by seafaring people who like 
 himself had their places well stocked with curiosi- 
 ties from foreign lands ; indeed some of our people
 
 l& (Buns an& Ubeir wners. 33 
 
 were themselves of foreign origin. There was an 
 admixture of Spanish, Dutch and French Hugue- 
 not blood in them. They all shot fowl, but the 
 guns used were as various as the dispositions of the 
 shooters, and these comprised all classes. Some 
 would not use a double under any conditions, others 
 would not carry a single. Many shooters I know 
 would not use a gun unless one of the old-fashioned 
 halfpence would drop down the barrel easily. 
 Others again, who killed fowl equally well, pinned 
 their faith to guns with long barrels that would not 
 take a farthing down them. Those narrow-gauged 
 guns were of foreign manufacture. English duck 
 guns were numerous enough ; but some of the^heavy 
 shoulder guns used at times, when fixed as punt 
 guns, were nothing more or less than Norwegian 
 bear guns, unrifled. These powerful weapons with 
 their heavy charges of duckshot used to do rare 
 execution. 
 
 Once, when out on the marshes, I had the story 
 of the good musket that I was using from a man I 
 met casually, it was a little of my own family his- 
 tory, from both the paternal and the maternal side. 
 
 " Who be ye? An' who give ye leave to shoot 
 in these ma'shes ? " 
 
 " What is that to you, eh ? " 
 3
 
 34 5>rift from Xongsbore, 
 
 " I'm the looker." The lookers were men ap- 
 pointed to watch over the graziers' interests, to see 
 that the dykes were in good order, etc. 
 
 " Very well, then, look at this, here is my permit, 
 you see, signed. Will that do ? " 
 
 " Yes, that's all right, but we're boun' to ask all 
 strangers. I've sin that musket afore to-day, I 
 reckins, an' used it too, in J.'s orchard, when I was 
 a young feller, fruit mindin'. He lent it tu me ; it's 
 a good tool and no mistake. I kin give ye the 
 whole history on it, chapter and verse. It belonged 
 to his father ; he fit old Boney an' the Frenchers 
 with it ; he was a sergeant afore and arter Water- 
 loo. Look here, why the bagnet [bayonet] lock is 
 on the barril now, an' the strap buckles. They do 
 say as the bagnet as belongs tu it is in J.'s old desk, 
 an' that he keeps it out o' sight cause he reckins it 
 settled a lot of Frenchers. I should like tu see 
 that bagnet fixed on her ; it would set the old gal 
 off, an' no mistake." 
 
 " I fitted it on the other day." 
 
 " You fitted it on ? Why, he keeps it 
 locked up out o' sight." 
 
 " But he gave me the key of his desk to get it 
 out." 
 
 " You don't say so. Then who the devil are ye ?"
 
 <S>lt> (Buns ant> ZCbeir Owners. 35 
 
 " I'm old J.'s eldest daughter's son." 
 " Then yer father was one o' my old school-mates ; 
 we've played pranks, an' bin larrupped fur 'em, lots 
 o' times. How time flies! An' many a baskit o' 
 fruit hev I gathered fur yer mother tu take down tu 
 the house ; her father would hev all his fruit fur 
 eatin' fresh frum the trees. Some on your father's 
 side fit old Boney ; one o' his uncles, your great- 
 uncle you know, was pressed fur 'boord ship, by a 
 press-gang. He was a single man, so it waun't so 
 bad fur him ; but he was stomachy an' hot-tempered 
 like all the family, it runs in the breed ; an' he 
 wouldn't sign no articles, but told 'em he'd cut the 
 first chance he got, as they'd forced him aboord. 
 The ship he was on went into action, fit with a 
 Frencher, an' he pulled stroke oar in that job ; fur 
 he was mentioned and offered promotion. He was 
 a fine-built feller by all accounts. But no, he 
 wouldn't hev it nohow. They'd pressed him agii? 
 his will, an' the fust chance he got he'd go. He'd 
 fit as well as the best on 'em, as well as he could, 
 jist to let 'em see he waun't a coward, but no articles 
 would he ever sign ; an' he never left his ship till 
 he left it fur good an' all. 
 
 "One day when they was in a calm at sea he 
 tumbled overboard. How it was nobody ever
 
 36 H>rift from Xonasbore. 
 
 knowed. He was a good swimmer, but he never 
 moved a finger. He had a red worsted cap on at 
 the time, an' them as rushed into the boats seed 
 thet 'ere red cap go clean out o' sight in the clear 
 water ; an' yer father's uncle was never seen by 
 mortal eyes ag'in." 
 
 I was familiar with every word he said, but I let 
 the old boy run on. For minute details in family 
 history, you could at that time trust the dwellers in 
 the marshes ; their memory even when aged, that is 
 over fourscore years, was most tenacious. 
 
 My wanderings with that old brown Bess of a 
 musket that had helped to leather the Frenchers I 
 have given elsewhere ; in using it, rather than more 
 handsome pieces, I only followed the example of 
 that famous and honoured naturalist, the late 
 William Macgillivray, who relied on a musket in 
 all places and all weathers. It may pass into my 
 hands again yet, not to be used, but to bring back, 
 old memories of the past, pleasant ones, when I 
 used it to some purpose. 
 
 It is with mingled feelings of pleasure and regret, 
 but regret mostly I fear, that I shall tell of two 
 famous guns, and give a brief sketch from the life 
 of the sportsman who used them, a man in all that 
 the name implies ; one who was kind to me, in his.
 
 (Buns anfc Ubeir wners. 37 
 
 grave courtly fashion, when I was but a delicate 
 boy. A few kind words from him would make me 
 happy all the day long. Until the time comes for 
 us to go where he has gone I shall wonder and 
 surmise, and wonder still, what it was that caused 
 that fine sportsman and athlete to shrink within 
 himself; as a rule he only let the better and kindly 
 part of his nature flash out before a child, such as I 
 was then or little more. If he had but lived, I 
 think at times how proud and glad I should have 
 been to show him that his famous scrap-book had 
 not been turned over by me quite in vain. 
 
 But that was not to be ; he died long years ago. 
 In my mind's eye I see again the sacred corner 
 reserved for those guns, one a giant, the other a 
 dwarf, his duck and his snipe gun. A scent of 
 rose leaves and lavender was always about that 
 old room with its fine chimney-piece and its stained- 
 glass windows, which flashed orange, green and 
 ruby lights on the polished barrels of the guns that 
 stood there summer and winter when not in use. 
 
 All my own after wanderings to search out and 
 prove for myself, with all the museums and ornitho- 
 logical up-to-date works of the present time, have 
 added little to what he showed and told me in our 
 years of friendly intercourse. In his far-seeing,
 
 38 2>rift from Xonosbore. 
 
 undemonstrative way he perhaps knew that the 
 child, although happily brought through to a 
 promise of better things than seemed likely in 
 his early years, would remain as reticent and self- 
 contained as himself. 
 
 All the haunts of hen and web-footed fowl 
 were known to him, and their ways, their com- 
 ing and going in their appointed seasons. He 
 did not profess in any way to be a draughtsman, 
 but, like the late Charles St. John, he would give 
 you the look of fur and feather in a few rough 
 dashes ; quite accurate enough for you to know 
 what he had seen, if he had not shot it. Birds of 
 the southern woodlands were not known in that 
 cold damp district; for even in the summer cold 
 chills crept over the flats, the home, but no longer 
 the haunt, of the bittern, the heron, the bearded 
 tit and the reed warbler. They are all gone now,, 
 never to return, unless civilisation with all its im- 
 provements goes backwards again, or the sea-walls 
 break and drown the land. It is a pleasure to be 
 able to remember our marshes as they were in the 
 past, although most folks would prefer things as. 
 they are now. 
 
 The reputation of this kinsman of mine as a wild 
 fowler and sure shot was well known all along the
 
 lt> (Suns ant) TTbetr wners. 39 
 
 shores and over the marshes from Erith to Rom- 
 ney ; but never have I known him shoot more fowl 
 than he required for his own table, or to gire, at 
 rare intervals, a few couples away. Sport, in what 
 would now be considered a very moderate degree, 
 and observing the ways of the fowl in their own 
 haunts, so far as that was possible to do, were quite 
 sufficient to employ all the leisure time at his com- 
 mand. Up in the morning before it was light, with 
 dog and gun he would visit some lonely bend of a 
 creek or the edge of a quaking bog, just to see what 
 birds were going out or coming in as soon as it got 
 light enough to see. Fever or ague never laid their 
 grim hold on him ; to the last he was proof against 
 marshland malaria. 
 
 Although he presented rare birds to some whom 
 he knew, who set them up in the most life-like 
 manner, not one stuffed bird would be found in 
 his house. Very few that watch birds in their 
 haunts care to see them in glass cases. 
 
 There was a vague rumour concerning that 
 famous duck gun, to the effect that he had seen it 
 hanging up in a farmhouse standing in some of 
 the lower marshes where he had been in the winter 
 for a week's fowling and observation, and he had, 
 after much delicate diplomacy, got the owner to let
 
 40 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 him have it for the large sum of ten guineas, sove- 
 reigns were not in circulation at that time. They 
 may have been correct, indeed he told me that he 
 had seen the gun, liked it and bought it, and at 
 that time it was a flint gun, with a barrel six feet 
 long, exclusive of the stock. Down-hill-Jemmy, 
 under his directions, cut one foot off the very long 
 barrel and altered it from a flint gun to a percussion 
 , one. This little addition to the history Jemmy 
 gave me himself. That it had done good service 
 and was a favourite weapon, the price paid for it 
 plainly told ; for at that time in the marshes ten 
 guineas was a large amount of money. 
 
 This old friend of mine shot by and over them 
 before I was born. In the dusk of a winter's after- 
 noon, sitting by the fireside, the movements of 
 birds have been talked over by us in their relations 
 to man as weather warnings. This is of great 
 importance to those whose cattle and property 
 round solitary farms are exposed to all the fury 
 of the elements with but little warning. 
 
 Wild fowl are not so numerous as they were ; but 
 they have not deserted their old flight lines, for 
 recently I have received rare fowl, that I looked for 
 forty years ago, from the same district where I 
 used at times to find them. The fowl still come in
 
 10 0uns anfc ZIbeit wners. 4i 
 
 hosts as they have ever done and will do, but the 
 greater portion now come less to their former haunts ; 
 they find out safe quarters, safe at least from flint 
 guns and shore shooters. The markets are supplied 
 principally by decoys and nets ; but these do not 
 alarm fowl, they only catch them. 
 
 Some with vivid imaginations have fancied what 
 the life of a bird ought to be, in their opinion, after 
 looking at well-set-up specimens, and such have 
 given their opinions to the public. Yet some birds 
 will not allow you to watch them in their haunts, 
 do what you will ; years go by, you get a glint one 
 time, a few seconds' sight at another, and so it goes 
 on, until at last in the course of ten or twelve years 
 you may be able to write half a page of their real 
 history. 
 
 Birds difficult to watch are the bittern, little 
 bittern, the rails, green sandpiper, stone curlew, the 
 thick-knee, greater and lesser, black and white wood- 
 peckers, the raven and the carrion crow, not to 
 mention the hawfinch. Watch him if you can ; for, 
 as one of our rustic friends truly observed, " bits 
 and bats on 'em you may see, but you wun't see 
 much," meaning that you would only sight them 
 for a very brief time. 
 
 With regard to bitterns they can be seen in a
 
 42 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 state of captivity, and purchased. These generally 
 come over from Holland as a rule, or from the 
 French marshes. No specimens are captured in 
 England, although at one time they nested here. 
 One place on the Essex shore was called butter- 
 bump flats, from the number of bitterns that were 
 found there. Even in a captive state their keen 
 bright eyes are for ever on the watch, and their 
 dagger-like bills ready to strike a blow. As to 
 quaint unbird-like attitudes, continually changing, 
 Teniers might have introduced them as feathered 
 imps in his Temptation of St. Anthony. 
 
 If their movements are made with extreme and 
 dangerous rapidity in confinement, they are still 
 more rapid in a natural state. But those old flint 
 guns that came to the shoulder so comfortably, and, 
 for all their long barrels, balanced to perfection, 
 killed many of both species, but more of the large 
 species than the smaller. There was no hurry 
 about the matter at all, for the birds were skulkers ; 
 yard by yard the dog noted every tussock or heap 
 of dead rush-wrack before the shooter. On one of 
 the most open places a sheaf of tall flags had fallen 
 in a state of natural decay ; a lump of brown, light 
 yellow, and dark rotting stems and flag blades, they 
 had not been cut, there the dog stops dead.
 
 (Buns anfc Ubeir wners. 43 
 
 The shooter can see nothing there, but his four- 
 footed companion can ; one motion of the hand 
 and the dog puts up at that signal a fine bittern that 
 had sprawled himself out on the heap of rotting 
 flags which agree with his own tones of colouring 
 so as to escape detection. There is not the least 
 cause to be flustered, for the bird shows a large 
 mark as it flaps away. He is at the right distance 
 now, the report rings out over the swamp, and the 
 poor bittern folds his wings and falls dead ; clean 
 killed. That was a thing the owners of those fine 
 guns prided themselves on a little, killing fur or 
 feather clean. If it was known that any one who 
 shot on the shore or over the marshes spoilt what 
 he shot, either for cooking or for setting up, he was 
 fairly scouted. 
 
 I have seen and used some of the best of the 
 old guns, and have studied the breech-loaders of 
 the present time with all their up-to-date improve- 
 ments. Sport is carried on in a hurry now, it is not 
 how the creatures are killed, but the number of 
 them ; the birds were not torn about with shot then, 
 as many of them are now. Some game-bags that I 
 have seen turned out looked as if the creatures had 
 been dragged over the floor of a slaughter-house. 
 It was surely not like the sport of past days.
 
 44 H)rift from Xonasfoore. 
 
 I do not pose as one who knows much about 
 guns, but I do assert that the guns I have mentioned 
 killed game and wild fowl quite as well and quite 
 as far as those of the present day with all their im- 
 provements. As to how far a bullet will go straight 
 to its mark from them, they know best who have 
 killed wild red deer as well as wild swans with 
 those old guns. 
 
 They are now relics of the past, hung up or placed 
 away in corners, Mantons and Purdeys, "Norwegian 
 bear guns and Spanish fowling-pieces ; the more to 
 be regretted because those to whom they have been 
 handed down as family possessions have cast them 
 on one side for cheap breech-loaders.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OLD REEKS AND HIS LUGGER. 
 
 " OLD Reeks's lugger hev just got in, an' she's 
 moored by the side o' the quay ; by the look on 
 her an' the crew, it ain't bin by no means a payin' 
 trip this time. All as I could git out on him was, 
 as he'd passed a three-decker out in open water, 
 scuddin' under bare poles, and a-showin' on'y two 
 tiers o' guns instead o' three at times. Somethin' 
 hev put a crab on him this 'ere cruise ; he looks as 
 if ager mixter had run short with him." 
 
 " Werry likely. The preventive cutters hev bin 
 out ag'in for a leetle sailin' an' firm 1 " practice. 
 Piper-Owlet an' Winter-Thornback cruised with 
 him once ; but his winkle-pickin' on the sands an* 
 on the outer edge on 'em was a leetle bit risky, so 
 they left the lugger's crew. Old Reeks has had the 
 devil's own luck, an' his own chucked in with it, in 
 his time. There ain't one o' the capt'ins out 
 o' all the fleet o' luggers as fishes off the Bank as 
 
 kin handle a craft like Reeks. Wentersum ain't no 
 
 (45)
 
 46 Brfft from Xonasbore. 
 
 name for it with him ; it's a case o' a clean pair o' 
 heels or wreckage." 
 
 " Piper an' Thorney talked it over, when all was 
 quiet, an' forgot-like, to them as they knowed could 
 be trusted in the matter. Old Reeks give out on 
 the quiet as he wanted a picked crew o' staunch 
 men for a long fishin' trip on the Bank, with good 
 wittles an' good pay fust-rate pay. Well, he got 
 his crew, an' there was no mistake about 'em. Not 
 on'y that, he give 'em all half their wages for the 
 trip, so as they could leave their wives and famb- 
 lies perwided for. Things went fust-rate all the 
 way out. Thorney said as how he niver knowed 
 Old Piper to grin as he did then ; for he rec- 
 kined it was like goin' a reg'lar good outin' on 
 the water, an' bein' most oncommon well paid 
 for it Well, ye see, they got to the Bank, an' 
 started fishin' all hands catchin', cleanin', splittin' 
 and saltin' ! But they on'y had a day on it, when 
 Reeks told 'em the cod-fish waun't big enough. He 
 should up anchor an' go where they was bigger an' 
 better. So off they sails ag'in. But 'twas on the 
 back-course : for a couple o' weeks they beat an' 
 tacked about near to Holland an' the coast o' 
 France. They soon smelt a rat, all the lot on 'em, 
 and they told Old Reeks so ; but as it was a case
 
 IReefes ant) Ibis Xuaaer. 4? 
 
 o' in for a penny in for a pound, it waun't much 
 use chouterin'. To cut it short, one dark quiet 
 night the lugger ranged up alongside a reg'lar raker 
 o' a bark layin' to in open water ; you knows the 
 cut on 'em. Tubs an' bales got shifted from the 
 bark to the lugger like winkin' ; the salt-fish was 
 chucked o'er 'em, an' all made snug, an' then the 
 wessels parted company. 
 
 " Then for a short spell there was hell to pay, 
 and no pitch hot to pay with ; they up an' told 
 Reeks as he'd clean bamboozled 'em. But, lor' 
 bless ye ! he'd got a tongue on him like a Philli- 
 delphy lawyer ; an' he says, ' Listen to me, my lads, 
 afore you wrecks me an' the wessel an' yerselves in 
 the barg'in. Ain't I wittled, liquored, an' paid ye 
 well ? ' ' Yes,' they said, ' you hev ; there ain't no 
 mistake about that.' 
 
 " ' Werry well, then, look at it in this 'ere way. 
 This is my 'wenture. I risks my lugger, an' arter 
 all is said an' done, you're on'y doin' for me wat I 
 knows damned well ivry mother's son o' ye hev 
 done for yerselves ; and that is to talk plain 
 smuggled.' 
 
 " Well, instead o' makin' things wuss, this 'ere bit 
 o' talk put 'em all in good humour, for they could 
 see the p'int on it as clear as mud in a wine-glass.
 
 48 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 An' they told him to crack on sail, an' they'd da 
 their level best to help him clear the cargo. Twas 
 fair sailin' till they got in the Channel, beatin' up 
 Romney way. Then they sees a fine rev'nue cutter, 
 one o' them as carries a talkin'-iron with her, makiV 
 for 'em. 'Twas the devil an' the deep sea for choice, 
 an' no other ; the lugger was put about, an' out she 
 threshed, with all sails set, for open water. 'Twas 
 about four in the arternoon when they fust sighted 
 one another, an' a fairish sweel of water on. Other 
 craft was beatin' up, so Reeks shot across, an' in 
 between 'em like ; for he noways fancied a taste of 
 what the cutter carried. Jist as the dims fell, the 
 pair on 'em was out in open water, an' a leetle too 
 close, for one on 'em at least. A shot from the 
 cutter missed the lugger's mast an' passed through 
 her mainsail. 'Twas the on'y shot as she got, for 
 the sea got wild, an' it grew dark, but 'twas enough, 
 for it meant real mischief. 
 
 " An' 'tis a desprit job for to clear out from a. 
 rev'nue cutter ; they ain't asleep, nor yet noddin'. 
 They'd ha' had him, on'y he did the most desprit 
 thing as iver has bin done round these 'ere shores. 
 He made right for the sands you knows 'em, the 
 Goodwins jist as if he meant to go right over 'em. 
 Thorney and Owlet said as they niver heard sich
 
 IReefes ant> Ibis XucjQer. 49 
 
 a roarin', howlin' hell o' waters in all their lives 
 afore. Then he jammed the tiller hard down and 
 shot like a gull, jist on one side of 'em ; she did 
 jist scrape a leetle once, but it waun't nothin'. If 
 she'd struck, mast an' gear would ha' gone by the 
 board, and they would ha' bin in Davy's locker 
 afore they could ha' got a quid o' bacca out They 
 got clear, and got rid, but niver went no more 
 sailin' capers with Reeks, nor yet winkle-pickin' 
 on the Goodwins." 
 
 The noble work our luggers have done in my 
 own time in saving life and vessels has now passed 
 into the history of the foreshores. I have seen them 
 make their way out, with their lion-hearted crews 
 in the face of what looked like destruction. And 
 it would have been that, but for their consummate 
 skill in handling their vessels. As a boy I never 
 knew of one single instance of a lugger keeping in 
 when her aid was required. Beaten off and back 
 they have been, with their crews in almost as bad 
 a fix as those on board the vessels they were trying 
 to save ; but some fresh tack has been determined 
 on, and at it they have gone again with a determi- 
 nation that only death itself could conquer. These 
 are only homely facts, well known at one time the 
 whole length of Sussex, Kentish, and Essex fore-
 
 so Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 shores. So common at one time were daring 
 efforts to save life that they- were barely noticed 
 by those who witnessed them. 
 
 A rattling cheer would be given as they went 
 out,- and when coming in ; and it ended there. 
 Then nimble, willing hands and warm hearts beat- 
 ing under rough garments were ready to take charge 
 of the crews they had brought to land. Joining 
 hands to form a chain in the surf, to clutch poor 
 storm- battered creatures, is not feather-bed work. 
 The lasses were in it as well. As they used to say, 
 the devil and all his imps could not keep them in- 
 doors if there was a chance of saving life. What 
 they did for others they hoped and prayed others 
 would do for their own folks in the dread time of 
 need. 
 
 A dismasted vessel driving in, with long bounds, 
 in the rough season of the year, is something that 
 you almost wish you had not come on the beach to 
 see ; but once you are there, some eerie fascination 
 will not let you leave it : it looks like some unfor- 
 tunate creature driving on to its doom. As a rule 
 it is soon over, there is a crash, and a blinding cloud 
 of spray, and you see wreckage tossing up all along 
 the shore ; but if sand-bars are in her wild course, 
 and these are struck fair, bow on, the vessel will for
 
 to TReefes ant> Ibis Xusaer. si 
 
 a time be fairly settled in her sandy berth, where 
 she will keep sog-sogging, until at last the sand is 
 within a foot or so of her deck. Some of the most 
 hideous death-traps I have ever seen have been on 
 the leeward side of a vessel, sand-silted. There is 
 a furious set of certain broad belts of current a short 
 distance from shore, half a mile or a mile, as the 
 case may be, so that the vessel on the weather or 
 we will say on the tidal-rush side gets silted up 
 and over to such a degree that only the fore and aft 
 parts of her are visible at low tide. But the ob- 
 struction that increases with each tide naturally 
 makes the water swirl round to the leeward side 
 of her, not only causing a cutting between the 
 doomed vessel and the sand, but a deep pool 
 beneath her keel as well. No dotterel piping, gull 
 cackling, or tern dipping, ever got me near a wreck 
 in this position. One false step, a cart-load of sand 
 slips away, and you are gone. If any fowler sees 
 the accident, the chances are ten to one if the body 
 is ever recovered ; for thousands of ferocious crabs 
 congregate in the pool under the keel, and it does 
 not take them long to dispose of a lucky find. 
 
 When blustering, roaring March comes in and 
 I never remember that lively month being a gentle 
 one when I roamed the shores from morning to
 
 52 2>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 night in past times there is much to be seen in the 
 way of bird life. Vast hosts move along the shores 
 and over the waters, even at the present time. 
 Forty years ago it was simply amazing to see the 
 various species on the wing, some actually on flight 
 for their northern haunts, others rushing up and 
 down a feathered gathering of the wading clans,, 
 preparatory to their final departure. 
 
 One fowling season, towards the latter end of it, 
 the fowlers on our own immediate line of coast were 
 terribly put about through a wreck. And so was 
 the 'coyman at the old duck decoy. For a bark had 
 broken up, with a cargo of oranges, nuts, and grain ; 
 the grain formed the bulk of her lading. This was 
 carried by the tide for miles, until at last it was 
 drifted, one heavy flood-tide, over a lot of quake- 
 ooze flats, where a boat could not get, nor a fowler 
 in mud-pattens ; and there it rested when the tide 
 went down, for good. Tons of it were scattered all 
 over these dangerous flats. And the fowl found it 
 out mallards, widgeon, teal, long-tailed ducks, 
 shovellers, and dun-birds or poachards. The fowl 
 came into the decoy as usual : sometimes the water 
 was covered, but no corn or tickled-up seeds could 
 get them up the pipes ; for they had, as the decoy- 
 man said, " Got enough corn in 'em tu bust 'em,.
 
 IReefcs anfc Ibis Xusger. 53 
 
 an' all as they wanted was tu sleep off their blow- 
 out ". 
 
 This they had digested by flight-time, when they 
 rose in a body and made for the quakes, but right 
 out of the line of flight-shooters. As for the others, 
 they made for the generous supply of provender in 
 long lines, half a mile out, over the water. It was 
 a most exasperating sight to the shooters to see 
 them move along without being able to get one. 
 Some tried from the boats, in the line of flight 
 over the water, but with no success. With regard 
 to the ducks' neckbreaker, the 'coyman, he grunted 
 and spoke in a far from refined manner, as if the 
 ill-fated vessel had broken up as a special visitation 
 and dispensation for his punishment. As to the 
 fowlers, they reckoned that " if they'd ha' known as 
 the corn would ha' got the fowl away, although the 
 oranges and nuts was all werry well, most special 
 for the young ones, they'd sooner she'd gone to 
 pieces somewheer else ".
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 UNDER STRESS OF CIRCUMSTANCE. 
 
 ON either side of a tidal river are great flats, 
 covered with water, which stretch out and away as 
 far as the eye can reach. Breaks can be seen 
 where the sand ridges have for centuries kept the 
 tide from completely drowning the lower parts ; 
 but to all intents and purposes, at full tides, they 
 may be said to be covered. By doing a bit of 
 " devil-dodging " a local equivalent for " steering 
 between the devil and the deep sea " you may 
 with a trusty guide get within half a mile of the 
 river's mouth. Peeled willow stakes show here and 
 there ; some with a bundle of flag tied to them, 
 others with a bit of bush, looking as if some old- 
 scrub brooms had been lashed to them. These, it 
 must be remembered, are daylight bearings ; for no 
 one but a fowler well acquainted with the water- 
 runs would go there at night, and even then not 
 five hundred yards from firm ground. The rich 
 
 grazing meadows, secure at present by their high 
 (54)
 
 Tflnt>er Stress of Circumstance. 55 
 
 sea-banks from the inroad of salt water, have been 
 won from that vast salt level in my own time. A 
 rich flight line of bird life still exists here in spring 
 and autumn, but the flowl only stay temporarily 
 now, in a district that was at one time their regular 
 resting-haunt. 
 
 A few herring-gulls are beating to and fro, and 
 that cloud of silvery midgets that looks in the dis- 
 tance about the size of a table cover, is a small 
 colony of terns that are probably nesting on one of 
 the raised bars of sand and shingle which cross and 
 recross in all directions, some of them nearly a mile 
 in length, others only lines of broken hummocks 
 that the tide is wearing away. Even this may be 
 reclaimed at some future time, but not in our day. 
 Nature's forces do her work silently, and do it, as 
 they have ever done, to perfection. When channels 
 that have been used from one generation to another 
 for fishing craft, warp and silt up in extraordinary 
 fashion with little warning, there is some cause for 
 it, if that cause could only be discovered. 
 
 The gulls cackle now and then, only just enough 
 to let you know that they are watching your move- 
 ments ; all you are likely to hear, for the fowl have 
 left the flats for the season. It is a very pleasant 
 thing to know that they do come and rest, at least
 
 56 H>rift from Xoncjsbore, 
 
 for a time, in peace. Fresh places have been fixed 
 on for their short stays, very short ones compared 
 with what they have been ; but I do know now of 
 spots where some species that had been missed can 
 still be seen. How long this may continue it is not 
 for us to say. Other small fowl frequenting, as a 
 rule, fresh waters, have found snug retreats to their 
 liking and breed in these. They communicate with 
 each other as to new and favourable habitats, safety 
 for a few after a time means safety for hundreds. 
 If once a lead is established in a judicious manner, 
 fowl will come, season after season, and some 
 remain for good. 
 
 If some folks had known that an osprey (or 
 mullet-hawk, as it is still called here), was fishing 
 at the mouth of the river above indicated, a dozen 
 guns would have been sent down in order to pro- 
 cure it for scientific investigation. 
 
 The mania for killing rare visitors must surely 
 now have reached its highest point. One rare 
 creature I know of that had escaped lately from a 
 collection was ruthlessly killed when it might have 
 been easily captured ; and when the slayer was 
 asked why he had killed it, he replied that " he'd 
 niver sin one on 'em afoore ". 
 
 A few of the raptores can run with great rapidity,
 
 "Qnoer Stress of Circumstance. 57 
 
 taking into consideration the class that they belong 
 to. The dashing, high-mettled falcons are, from 
 the curious pads on the under surface of their toes 
 and their hooked claws, prevented from running; 
 but if they wish to come on the ground for any 
 purpose you will at times find them to be very like 
 old Aunt Dinah's mouse-haired mule, " most obstro- 
 plos handy wid de feet ". 
 
 Under stress of circumstances we have seen dis- 
 appear, or killed off by order, the three buzzards, 
 also the harriers, and the raven in many localities. 
 The common buzzard worked at times without pay 
 as a mole-catcher, and the rough-legged one was a 
 first-class rabbit-thinner at a time when these crea- 
 tures were only looked on as vermin. As to the 
 honey buzzard, he certainly ought to have been 
 spared for acting in the capacity of wasps'-nest 
 taker, in the vernacular " waps'-nest scratcher ". 
 
 "They're warmints, iv'ry mother's son Jack on 
 'em, an' they shell goo. Master pays us fur killin' 
 'em. Now look here, ain't it a lot better fur tu kill 
 'em and git paid for 't than what it is fur tu let 'ern 
 bide, an' us git the billet ? " Of course there was not 
 any answer to this ; it was, as the keeper rightly 
 observed, " a reg'lar clencher ". 
 
 That dashing, courageous feathered warmint, the
 
 58 Drift trom 
 
 sparrow-hawk, the keepers' torment, do what they 
 will to kill him off, is likely to hold his own for a 
 long time yet. There is not the least excuse to be 
 made for him ; when young birds are out, to use the 
 words of a keeper's lad who was watching the coops, 
 " he cums an' gives 'em beans ". 
 
 The rapidity of this bird's movements is at 
 times wonderful. You may see him high up over 
 the firs that shelter the coops from the north and 
 north-east, and before you can look again he is 
 down shooting like a rocket along the side of the 
 hedge, close to it so close that you fancy a 
 bramble will hook him. Then out he dashes in 
 front of one of the coops, and before the lad has 
 got the gun to his shoulder a young pheasant is 
 missing. As a rule the lad gets blamed for not 
 preventing a course of conduct, on .the hawk's part, 
 that the keepers at times find a difficulty in deal- 
 ing with. The tact displayed at times by the little 
 free-booter, so far as self-preservation is concerned,, 
 is likely to be remembered by those who have seen 
 it. Cunning I have heard it called, but the in- 
 telligence shown merits a better name than that ; 
 it is tact, knowing how to do a thing well, just 
 when the time comes for doing it. 
 
 When the "spar-hawk," a bird credited with
 
 iflnoer Stress of Circumstance, 59 
 
 high courage, great intelligence and quickness of 
 flight, uses its gifts to gain a living for itself, and, 
 in the nesting season, for a very hungry family 
 the young hopefuls requiring a lot of feeding the 
 bird is then, from the keepers' point of view, a 
 feathered fiend, an idea largely shared in by his 
 employer. Yet, strange to state, when the bird is 
 trained for hawking by those that preserve game 
 for their own profit and amusement, the highest 
 praise is and has been given to a good sparrow- 
 hawk. For hawking purposes the females are used 
 as a rule. A question was raised it is only re- 
 membered now by those who have traced the pro- 
 gress of ornithology for the last half-century re- 
 garding the existence of two varieties of this hawk, 
 a large and a small one. So far as my own obser- 
 vations go, I consider that the female sparrow- 
 hawks in our own hunting districts are for size more 
 like small male goshawks, being a rich brownish 
 grey on the back and wings, and beautifully barred 
 on breast, flanks and thighs with fine black lines. 
 I have such a one in my own possession. They 
 are certainly most powerful creatures. 
 
 Some gentlemen have had capital luck in pro- 
 curing tractable birds for training. Salvin and 
 Brodrick's Falconry in the British Isles tells of two
 
 eo Drift from Xonosbore. 
 
 seasons' doings by these birds, owned and used by 
 Mr. Bower. In 1858, I hawk killed, in 19 hawking 
 days, 46 blackbirds, 36 thrushes, 17 partridges, 
 II sparrows, and I starling total, in. The best 
 single day was 6 blackbirds, 3 thrushes, 2 partrid- 
 ges, and i sparrow. In 1861 this gentleman, with 
 a young trained sparrow-hawk, killed, in 27 days, 
 68 blackbirds, 42 thrushes, 5 sparrows, 3 green- 
 finches, 7 partridges, I wood-pigeon, i " sundry " 
 total, 127. 
 
 But Mr. Bower was, it states, no doubt the best 
 and cleverest hand in training these delicate 
 hawks of any who have used them during the 
 present century. I have done well with all the 
 raptores that I have kept at liberty as pets, with 
 the exception of the bird under notice. The " spar- 
 hawk " with me has been a failure. 
 
 A feeling of disgust at the amount of care 
 and kindness ill-requited, to say nothing about 
 wasted time, creeps over me as I write. For a short 
 time a beautiful creature has stood on my gloved 
 hand, looking about with all the confidence imagin- 
 able in its deep orange eyes, then without any warn- 
 ing it would be possessed by all the devils that 
 can enter a bird's frame. Off the feathered maniac 
 would throw herself, backwards, held by the jesses
 
 lancer Stress of Circumstance. 6i 
 
 on her legs, shrieking with open mouth, threshing 
 with her wings and clapper-clawing in all directions. 
 As her light jesses were long ones, for the idea of 
 training her was far too much for me to think about, 
 she would spin round with her fine tail spread out 
 like a giant shuttlecock. Then the show of temper 
 would pass off in an instant, and she would remem- 
 ber that her proper place was on my hand. To 
 get there in the best and easiest manner she would 
 climb up my leg as I stood, leaving the marks of 
 her needle-like claws as far as she travelled ; they 
 went clean through into the flesh like large darning 
 tools. Even this I put up with and overlooked, for 
 she was a beauty and I was proud of her although 
 she was a vixen ; but the titles bestowed on that 
 bird by me, in all the heated fluency that long prac- 
 tice has made perfect, will not be recorded here for 
 the excellent reason that at last, for my own moral 
 welfare, I was forced to let her loose. 
 
 After the nesting season is over and the young 
 ones are driven off, the male and female separate 
 for the season, the powerful female remaining about 
 the woodlands, ready and quite willing to kill and 
 eat a pheasant, rabbit, or farmyard sparrow. 
 
 The male birds, or, as they are sometimes called, 
 " muskets," follow the flocks of finches and other
 
 62 Brift from Xonosbore. 
 
 birds that come and go from the fields down to the 
 edge of the tide. Young merlins and a few old 
 merlins may be seen there as well only a few of 
 these on the southern coast but the " spar-hawks " 
 are in evidence, plain for all to see. 
 
 There are various ways and means in looking at 
 matters, eminently comforting no doubt to those 
 who employ them. When the peregrine strikes 
 grouse in a wild state on the moors he is a scourge, 
 but when he is trained to wait on over dogs, and 
 cuts down grouse after grouse as they rise, hitting 
 them fair and square, then he is a noble bird, very 
 highly prized and highly commended. 
 
 It is just the same with the sparrow-hawk. 
 
 It is deplorable how many interesting species are 
 getting exterminated, sea-eagles, ospreys, jer and 
 peregrine falcons, kites, marsh-harriers and hen- 
 harriers. These have a market and fetch good 
 prices. The bittern, little bittern, night-heron, 
 godwit, ruff, and some of the sandpipers never go 
 begging, as British " specimens ". As to avocets, 
 .stilt-plovers, the black-winged stilts, great snipes 
 and the much coveted Sabine's snipe which is 
 considered to be a very rare dark variety of the 
 common snipe and not a distinct species these we 
 know when the chance offers find their way into
 
 "duber Stress of Circumstance. 63 
 
 private collections, where expense is no object. 
 Rollers, bee-eaters, hoopoes, rose-coloured starlings 
 or rose-pastors, the great shrike, and the large reed 
 warbler, or chatterer, all travel on collection roads. 
 Directions are sent to a certain class of people 
 telling them when and where to look for certain 
 birds. If the matter is considered important, a 
 good figure of the birds needed comes with the 
 directions. If all goes well, up go the birds and 
 down comes a postal order for the same, and cards 
 are attached when these are set up, giving artistic 
 sketches of the places that the birds came from, 
 places which the owners of those rare specimens 
 had never seen. From some unknown cause, the 
 swallow family, down to the flitting sand-martin, 
 and also the swift which is not now classed with 
 the passeres but with the picariae, have not been 
 seen in our haunts in such numbers for the last four 
 years as we have seen them. It may be that they 
 have a wider distribution over the country ; for we 
 have seen swifts hunting high up over the downs in 
 numbers, and over the woodlands two and three 
 miles from any hamlet. One circumstance has 
 struck me very forcibly ; if a mansion is built in 
 a wood and many of them have been of late 
 almost before it is finished swallows come to
 
 64 Drift from 
 
 nest there ; and the first flower beds generally 
 hold either a sitting pheasant or a partridge. 
 Worry and a continual state of unrest has killed 
 off thousands of human beings before their time. 
 The same state of affairs has affected bird life ; 
 even their swift wings have not been able to take 
 them away from it. Guns, traps, and worst of all, 
 poison, have all three been used against them, and 
 the wonder is that so many birds are about, taking 
 all things into consideration. That they are well 
 able to take care of themselves, any ordinary 
 observers will freely admit. Grebes are difficult 
 birds to get closely acquainted with, though there is 
 one place I know where one can watch them as 
 though they were farmyard ducks. But the water 
 in some parts is very clear and deep, also icy cold. 
 Little by little, or as the quail pipes it out in the 
 near meadows, " bit by bit," we are learning more 
 about the dabchick's domestic economy with every 
 visit that we pay to this little grebe's haunt. Both 
 birds sit on their eggs, resting on their sopping-wet 
 green weed raft, turn and turn about. It is a most 
 amusing and instructive sight to see little " Lord 
 Dab" come to relieve his mate. Up he comes, 
 sounding his creaking-gate music that sounds so 
 sweet to her, for it is the notice to glide off the raft
 
 Iflnfcer Stress of Circumstance. 65 
 
 and enjoy herself for a spell. The little fellow runs 
 round the edge of his home, nearly upright ; 
 arranges something very quickly with his leaf-like 
 feet, and then, although the eggs are resting on that 
 wet dab of weeds, he shakes every particle of mois- 
 ture from his plumage before hovering down over 
 his precious charge. 
 
 Not one of the birds of prey ever wastes time in 
 hunting over barren ground ; if the quarry is there 
 the bird will wait on for the chance. Times with- 
 out number, in past days, have I seen them swing 
 over a field or marsh, and have it at once. And 
 the swift search is carried on in the most business- 
 like manner, a couple of rapid rushes up and down, 
 then a wide sweep round, and the field or marsh is 
 left. Wild flights from the raptores can still 
 happily be seen, for setting quite on one side the 
 trained falcon's flight at a woodcock, a dark-grey 
 vixen of a sparrow-hawk with her thickly barred 
 breast and flanks will take the job in hand for 
 pure love. These yellow-eyed dwarf goshawks hunt 
 late. The long-billed beauty is contentedly flap- 
 ping with owl-like flight down the glade, when 
 something shoots just over him like a rocket ; the 
 cock twists and turns at once in the most erratic 
 
 manner and makes for the trees. Swish comes 
 5
 
 66 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 the hawk again, and the cock drops like a stone in 
 the undergrowth, where he sits quite safe, with his 
 wings drooped and his tail raised over his back 
 like a fan-tailed pigeon. You might pick him up 
 if you thought fit to do so, for fright has thoroughly 
 upset him ; but when in this state he is as well left 
 alone. 
 
 Three species at least of the beautiful terns, well 
 within my own time, bred freely in this country ; 
 but their colonies on the flats and the foreshores 
 have been harried for eggs and birds so persistently, 
 season after season, that they have ceased to exist 
 as breeding places. A few hatch out in lonely 
 shingle runs here and there on the coast lines ; 
 others have changed their breeding grounds for 
 good. The ring-dotterels have suffered in the same 
 way, but, from their different nesting habits, nothing 
 like so much as the terns have done. When dogs 
 are trained for egg hunting, and the capture of 
 young birds alive without hurting them, is it to be 
 wondered at if the poor birds shift elsewhere ? The 
 size of a place has nothing to do with its nesting 
 capacities ; if the conditions are favourable, there 
 the birds will come in their seasons to settle down. 
 If they are not interfered with they will come again, 
 until at last you may count on their arrival almost
 
 Stress of Circumstance. 67 
 
 to a day. One place I frequently visit, where 
 the birds, water-fowl and waders, have been pro- 
 tected for forty years, not by keepers or lookers, 
 but by the people that pass that way, because the 
 owner of a fine sheet of water desired that they 
 might not be frightened. This is as it should be, 
 yet for all that they are wild birds, pure and simple, 
 free to come and go just as they please, according 
 .as their inclinations move them. Some of the so- 
 called waders, that is, those birds that wade for 
 their food as well as swim, move with the most 
 extraordinary rapidity under the water when on 
 the hunt for food in its varied forms. As the 
 water is spring-clear there is not the least difficulty 
 in seeing the birds ; but their turns and twists are 
 so rapid as they wind in and out of the green weeds 
 that we have not been able to detect the particular 
 food they were feeding on. Then up they shoot 
 like corks, and down they go again. The waders 
 we think are most wonderful creatures swimmers, 
 divers, runners, climbers and perchers for all these 
 most useful accomplishments are practised by 
 them in various degrees. The common sandpiper 
 has these gifts, using each in its own good time. 
 The hard gravel path that runs on one side of 
 the water is a favourite tripping place for little
 
 68 s>rtft from Xonosbore. 
 
 "Willy-Wicket". From some cause or other I 
 lately saw one of them, when daintily picking along 
 the edge, get terribly frightened by something. 
 Instead of taking wing he dived like a flash, flying 
 along under the water with quick strokes of the 
 wings, in fine style. Up popped his head, down 
 he went again, and got in some fine root tangle. 
 From this he was quickly fingered out, and I 
 thoroughly examined the beautiful creature. The 
 whole plumage was damp, particularly so on 
 the flanks and under the wings ; but not one 
 feather was wet through, or at all clogged with 
 moisture. 
 
 Birds are most sensitive creatures in what appear 
 trifles to us. Shadows frighten them ; not those 
 from the clouds, but from living creatures ; and 
 slight accidents cause their death. The water-vole, 
 or rat as he is usually called, is one of the most 
 innocent and harmless creatures I know, yet I have 
 seen a moorhen clutter up in alarm, and go squat- 
 tering over the water, when a vole, in diving, has 
 passed on one side of it. All creatures, from the 
 highest to the lowest, are endowed with a rare 
 and subtle intelligence suited to their own circum- 
 stances. 
 
 The owls in my opinion are the most gifted
 
 dnoer Stress of Circumstance* 69 
 
 of creatures in the matter of concealment, " playing 
 possum " out in the open. The short-eared owl 
 will, when on the sand hills or dunes, squat or turn 
 over on his side with half his head under one wing, 
 in or by the side of a solitary bent tuft that does 
 not look large enough to hold a golden plover. In 
 such fashion he will, under certain weather changes, 
 almost allow himself to be walked over before he 
 gets up. One that was fired at and missed by a 
 fowling companion of mine, pitched on the bare 
 sand where only a few small stones were scattered 
 about. After a lot of marching and a few strong 
 words on both sides my friend declaring that he 
 would have him up the bird got from the side of 
 a stone which each of us had passed several times, 
 and fell to the shot. 
 
 Sometimes birds reach us dead baat, from their 
 flight lines, owing to adverse winds that take them 
 far from their right course. That was the real 
 cause I believe of the woodcock-owl's manoeuvres, 
 he was doing his best with his apparently very 
 limited means of concealment. As to the brown 
 owl and that feathered mouser called by numerous 
 names, such as Madge-howlet, screecher or screech- 
 owl, barn-owl, church-owl, etc., they are past mas- 
 ters in all bird ways of evading observation, if they
 
 70 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 wish to do so. It is some consolation to know- 
 that after years of pleading from field naturalists,, 
 the owls have at last been left in peace by men, 
 but, alas, a late whim of fashion is adapting their 
 plumage for decorations in female dress, and it 
 has been made into toques and trimmings for 
 winter gowns. They were prime favourites of my 
 boyhood and I did my best for them, even then, by 
 telling people that they were not only harmless- 
 creatures, but highly beneficial to man's labours in 
 the fields, and when at last some of my observa- 
 tions were placed before the public, they were the 
 first creatures that I pleaded for. 
 
 The birds' changes of diet in the varied seasons 
 from spring to fall no living man would ever be 
 able to place on record. Many have tried to do it,, 
 but the tale remains to this day only half told. 
 Take, for instance, those diving fowl that live at 
 times on small shell-fish which they get by diving 
 to the bottom. All sorts of fish are on some shell- 
 beds, as they are called ; some in large, others in 
 small quantities. All the conditions being favour- 
 able, a couple may be got for examination, and 
 both birds may be found to have been feeding on 
 small mussels. This fact is at once booked as a 
 hard and fast rule, the dates and seasons duly-
 
 tnnoer Stress of Circumstance. 71 
 
 entered. But it is a little bit confusing to find 
 that the same species of bird, on the same fore- 
 shore waters, has been shot a few hundred yards 
 away, feeding on small cockles. Dogmatic theories 
 will not always hold good.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SOME WATER STUDIES. 
 
 PlKE are watching the late broods of coots, moor- 
 hens and dabchicks most intently. No wonder 
 that the fowl keep their youngsters in about three 
 inches of water, or get them out of it on the bank. 
 As you are looking on the water you will see a 
 shadow, dim and grey, slowly drawing nearer and 
 nearer, until a large pike shows distinctly. How 
 the fish has managed to glide up from deep water 
 and range alongside that wisp of dead flags floating 
 on it, without, so far as you have been able to make 
 out, moving a fin, is a mystery ; but he has done it, 
 and he is there ready for his feathered prey. If 
 any of these nimble youngsters dart away from the 
 extreme edge, on fly-catching business, that pike 
 will throw himself out of the water and snap three 
 or four of them at one fierce chop, like a trout 
 taking a fly from a drooping sedge blade. Exces- 
 sive increase, caused by removing the natural checks 
 
 to the undue increase of any species, is to be re- 
 (72)
 
 Some Water Stuotes. 73 
 
 gretted. This is, however, we well know, a delicate 
 subject to deal with or to write about; different 
 people have very different ideas on the same subject 
 In the course of years the vexed question will settle 
 itself. 
 
 Coots, moorhens, rails, and wild ducks will, if 
 not molested, feed with the poultry on any lonely 
 farm that has a piece of water near it which they 
 frequent ; in fact, the nearer they can get to 
 houses and people the better they like it. Cock 
 and snipe are certainly peculiar in this respect ; for 
 on one of the best teal-springing moors that I have 
 known, the greater portion of them were tealed 
 close to the main high road. One farm from which 
 the drain ran into the waste was never without 
 these long-billed beauties, after the first frost had 
 shown on the grass. They fed and bored up it, 
 right from the moor waste where they located 
 themselves, close up to the back door of the farm. 
 Personally I do not fancy either cock or snipe after 
 having seen them probing in that odoriferous drain, 
 which may only be prejudice, but the distaste is 
 not to be overcome. 
 
 One evening lately I was out for a stroll on a 
 path leading by a pond. At the extreme end of it, 
 where only a gate parted the pond-path from the
 
 74 2>rift from SLongsbore. 
 
 high road, something shot out from the edge of that 
 path fringed with sword-grass, which at first seemed 
 to be only a startled vole. But the heave-up of the 
 water, as the creature pursued its course just beneath 
 it, at once told it was not that ; and the trace came 
 in again under water from a clump of grass at my 
 feet, whence it had first started. After lightly and 
 carefully parting the grass-blades only a bit of half- 
 submerged sodden turf was visible, and just by the 
 side of it there was another boil up of the water 
 which was only six inches in depth close to the 
 path. Then a dabchick poked her head up, a yard 
 or so away from that sodden patch. It was her 
 nesting-raft which was under my very nose. To 
 look at it any one not well acquainted with the 
 bird's ways would have hooted at the idea of birds* 
 eggs being in that wet, rotting dab of weeds. There 
 was not the slightest depression ; it was just a flat 
 dab of rotting green weeds and nothing more. 
 Very, very gingerly a good two inches of that vilely 
 smelling top-dressing was removed, and there lay 
 four eggs. The nest was thoroughly examined, half 
 lifted out of the water and replaced, the top-dressing 
 being raked off, leaving the eggs bare. After the 
 grass-blades had been carefully arranged over it, as 
 they were before, the nesting-site was left for about
 
 Some Mater Stuofes. 75 
 
 half an hour ; when revisited, the eggs were covered 
 again by the birds. Now, on the face of it, no 
 one, if he gave a moment's thought to the subject, 
 would think that the bird could dive for that quan- 
 tity of top-dressing and place it over her eggs in so 
 short a time it would be absurd to think of it. 
 The fact is, the weeds are in readiness close to the 
 nest, pulled up from the bottom by the birds, before- 
 hand, for that purpose. 
 
 It has been stated by some authorities (sic) that 
 dabchicks can sit up, resting on the tarsus; and, 
 by the way, they are generally set up like that, 
 as if they were going through recruit drill, bolt up- 
 right ; but this, in point of fact, is a most unnatural 
 position. The great northern diver, the black- 
 throated and the red-throated divers do sit up, or 
 rather rest in an erect position at times, under the 
 stress of circumstance, but not very frequently. 
 What a creature can do, when forced to do it, is 
 often quite contrary to its usual course of action. 
 Due allowance must be made at all times ; nature 
 has no hard and fast rules in her economy. 
 
 Our favourite water-sprite can move with rapidity, 
 stretching his neck out a little and canting his body 
 forwards slightly, when he thinks that there is need 
 for it ; and there certainly is that at times. If they
 
 76 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 could not run over submerged tangle, just rising to 
 the surface, their case would be hard indeed, for the 
 network of roots and rootlets of aquatic growth in 
 the shallows would catch them like a net and they 
 would drown in it. Where carp are not able to 
 root and wriggle through, no diving bird can go, 
 not even that eel-like mover the water-rail. Once 
 I got wet through in trying to convince a certain 
 individual that even carp could not get through 
 submerged tangle. The dispute became warm, 
 and in I plunged up to the neck, kicked about, 
 and stirred the water up. The fish in their fright 
 rushed into the tangle, and there they remained 
 held fast. I groped out, with my head under water, 
 a couple of brace of good ones before coming out. 
 And then my friend calmly remarked that he would 
 take the fish. After disjointing the vertebrae of 
 those bemuddled carp, and threading a willow slip 
 through their gills, I left him, however, to think the 
 matter over, whilst I bestowed the carp in a more 
 grateful quarter. 
 
 I fancied that I had fairly sampled nearly all the 
 malarious odours from ooze flats, stagnant lagoons 
 and rotting fens, but I had yet to learn something, 
 for, when exploring a small swamp pool with a 
 wealth of flowering aquatic vegetation such as I
 
 Some Water Stuoies. 7? 
 
 have never seen before in so close a compass, I broke 
 through the upper crust and stirred the water up 
 below. If a nest of hornets had given out their 
 war-signals of flirting bizzes, we could not have left 
 the spot in a greater hurry. If I had stayed there 
 only five minutes I should have had malarial fever ; 
 as it was, for a day or two, the stings from gnats, 
 midges and monster "stouts" and other flying 
 and creeping things, caused me to relieve my feel- 
 ings vigorously. And yet, in spite of it all, I was 
 well repaid by seeing some of the waders and 
 swimmers guard their young, myself unseen by 
 them. One was a duck. I knew that not one 
 pike was in that pool, only large carp and tench 
 were there ; yet the mother duck, for the drake 
 does not help, took the same precautions as if 
 the water had been stocked with them. Keep- 
 ing just outside of the shallow edge of the pool, 
 where the water was not more than two inches 
 deep, over the fringe of dead sedges, she kept her 
 lot of little peepers well within it. If that brood 
 had been out a couple of days, they certainly 
 had not seen daylight longer, yet they darted at 
 the insects and captured them to their little hearts' 
 content, peep-peep-peeping continually. If at times 
 one or the other of them got out of bounds on the
 
 78 Drift from Xonosbore, 
 
 deeper part of the water, the old bird gently touched 
 it with her bill and it shot back again directly. 
 How far she might have brought them down to 
 the water I could not guess ; they were not hatched 
 out there. After a time the duck left the water, 
 followed by her small brood, not to retire to a tus- 
 sock hump but to a place as bare as the back of 
 your hand. Here she was busy for a few moments 
 in pulling off grass blades that grew near, and 
 strewing the ground with them for her ducklings 
 to rest on ; then she hovered them up ; and so 
 cleverly and quickly was this done that the small 
 things vanished as if by magic. Then we knew 
 why the duck had picked out that small patch of 
 dried mud to rest on ; for unless we had known 
 that the mud-coloured lump in the centre of it was 
 the duck with her mites of ducklings under her, 
 because we had seen her go there, one might have 
 passed within a yard of her without noticing her at 
 all. 
 
 Unless a man has seen some of the swamp birds 
 use their feet, he would never dream how handy 
 they are with them, in fact quite as handy as any 
 member of the parrot family. The common moor- 
 hen is one of the best in using her feet. The way 
 in which she will clear rank grass away for the
 
 Some Mater Studies. 79 
 
 sooty little chicks to follow is a very interesting 
 sight to see ; and it is all done so quickly. They 
 are formed for wedging their way through rank 
 growths, and the young ones follow so close under 
 their parent, that their way is never blocked by 
 the coarse stems springing back again. If the 
 track is made, it is closed again in a few moments 
 by the elastic stems springing into place. These 
 are small matters, but to many they are very 
 interesting. 
 
 From the time the small things are hatched out 
 until they get their first feathers, almost uninter- 
 rupted watching on the part of their parents is 
 needed. The youngsters require rest several times 
 in the course of the day ; the resting places are only 
 for temporary use certainly, but they must be suit- 
 able ones and have to be looked for. Some, I 
 fancy, think that water birds live on the water. 
 Sea-fowl, some of them at least, pass a great portion 
 of their time on it, but even they like a dry firm 
 spot to rest on when they can get it, and they would 
 rest far more than they do on firm ground if they 
 could do so without being shot at. When left 
 -alone, although they are surrounded by water, the 
 nests are dry. Even when the nest is on the water, 
 successive layers of dry stuff are continually added,
 
 so Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 as the lower part gets water- logged. If this were 
 not done the brood when resting at night would die 
 from cramp. The dabchick's nest is the one excep- 
 tion, for that is damp from the start, but as her 
 mites of divers when at rest, are, as a rule, cased up 
 snug under her wings, no damp reaches them there, 
 not even when the bird dives with them. 
 
 The heron can rest on the low boughs that al- 
 most touch the water, and look with contemplative 
 longing eyes on the fine fish below him ; but not one 
 will fall to his share, for the heron would starve if 
 he only had deep waters to frequent. Sometimes a 
 rise where a good fish springs clean out of the water,, 
 and goes in again head first with a splash, causes 
 him to forget himself a little. You will see his head 
 shoot out from between his humped-up shoulders 
 with snake-like rapidity. He has walked down to 
 the extreme end of the bough where he has poised 
 himself for a stroke, in case a fish should come near. 
 He makes a most beautiful still-life study, for the 
 bird and the reflection below him are indeed motion- 
 less, not a feather moves. ^ The bird is engaged 
 through the force of circumstances in night fishing, 
 because a charge of shot is ready for him in the 
 daytime. The heron, where protected, will fish by 
 day ; I have watched him at it for hours.
 
 Some Water Stu&fes. si 
 
 Directly the days begin to shorten, the herons 
 become restless. Recently I have heard them call- 
 ing hoarsely, when on the wing and in the trees, 
 not in the gloaming, but in the middle of the day ; 
 for they will flap over miles of country to find a 
 quiet run of fishing-water. 
 
 One stream, well sheltered by banks, with alter- 
 nate pools and shallows, has been very much fre- 
 quented by them of late not so much on account 
 of the fish as for small deer, such as rats, mice, and 
 voles, that come down the banks to drink. If the 
 quarry is too large it does not take the bird long 
 to convert it into swallowing size. How matters of 
 no small size go down that slender neck is a snake- 
 like mystery. 
 
 Five miles of dead marshlands are directly in 
 front of us, a flash of water showing in the extreme 
 distance. Beyond that are other flats, fading away 
 and mingling with the distant horizon, a vast 
 stretch of dreary grey-green. The weather has 
 been very hot all through the summer ; even in the 
 middle of September, the heat is very great. The 
 marsh dwellers tell us that they have not known 
 such heat since the year 1889. We have not 
 the least reason to doubt their statements, for 
 
 they are as accurate in all matters concerning 
 6
 
 82 E>rtft from Xon^sbore. 
 
 weather changes at the present time as they have 
 been in the past. But a shift has come out of 
 the east without the least warning, and the flats, 
 for a few hours at least, are as dull and grey as they 
 can well be. The few objects scattered about 
 far and wide, such as reed stacks, pollards and 
 solitary poplars, appear to sink down into the 
 marshes that they stand on. Even the sails of the 
 barges and fishing craft loom out like shadows as 
 they come round the bend of the creek and vanish 
 again. The wind has chopped round and carried 
 the thin cold vapours seawards, and four o'clock 
 booms out from that grey tower rising high above 
 the Swale. Then a soft golden light falls upon the 
 whole, and one of the most beautiful scenes on the 
 flats is before you. Far down, bright specks of 
 light show out from the sails of distant craft ; the 
 light grows stronger, showing up and out in fine 
 relief all that it falls upon. Prismatic hues are 
 slowly shifting about in all directions, at one time 
 lighting up the near ooze and water channels, then 
 wandering to and fro over the flats, until at last 
 that golden light fades out.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NATURE'S RAIDERS. 
 
 THE tragedies and comedies of wild life can be 
 seen by all that care for such matters. Our pre- 
 daceous animals, the wild cat excepted, may still 
 be met with in suitable localities. When one of 
 our domesticated cats takes to the woods and hills 
 when about half grown, and remains there for years 
 in spite of keepers and their traps, the change in 
 size and general appearance is something remark- 
 able. One that was brought to me recently measured 
 three feet nine inches from the tip of his nose to 
 the end of his tail, which was, from root to tip, 
 exactly twelve inches in length. Hares, rabbits, 
 pheasants, partridges, fowls, ducks, wood-pigeons, 
 squirrels and fish from the shallows, for nearly five 
 years, had provided nourishment for this tiger-like 
 cat. The hollow trees in and about his haunts, 
 also the cracks and crevices in the great blocks of 
 chalk firmly bedded in and over the hill side, found 
 
 him safe refuges when hunted from one place to 
 (83)
 
 84 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 another. A large hole in the trunk of a giant 
 beech is not the place for a man to swarm up to 
 a height of some fifty feet from the ground. Many 
 a time have the guardians of the covers heard the 
 creature making most hideous noises, love songs 
 of the night sung for the benefit and attraction of 
 the gentler members of his own species, the lady 
 Grimalkins who had their homes in some of the 
 distant farms. The ordinary cat on the tiles is 
 bad to listen to, but its caterwauling is as nothing 
 compared with the cries from a creature that has 
 had for years warm prey of its own catching. 
 There is something wild and unearthly about it, 
 as it rings out over the tree tops in the dead of 
 night. One of the covert guards remarked, " Mind 
 ye, I've heerd a 'menjous sort o' noises, o' one sort 
 an' t'other, o' nights when I bin watchin', but the 
 werry fust time as I heerd that 'ere cussed warmint 
 holler out high up frum them there gurt limbs, it 
 naturally riz my hair up, an' I gripped my ash-bat 
 middlin' tight ; fur jist at that 'ere time I fancied 
 as it might ha' bin the devil larnin' tu play on one 
 o' they key bugles ". It was entirely owing to the 
 creature's craft that it had escaped capture so long. 
 Directly the sound of the crack of a twig or the 
 rustle of dead leaves was borne to him, he climbed
 
 feature's TRaffcers. 85 
 
 up into a hole or crouched in one of the great 
 branch forks. The dogs told at last where the 
 fierce brute had his lair, and where he had for the 
 time being " treed " ; but not once in all the years 
 that he roamed the woods and hills had the keepers 
 .got a shot at him. Change of habitat wrought 
 changes in this creature's fur ; in the summer, when 
 they caught a sight of him at rare times, his fur 
 was smooth and sleek, in dead hard winter he 
 looked as they said "half as big again, and as 
 tough as a bush faggot". Once he was marked 
 fairly down, at least they thought so ; but the 
 creature made his way through and over the tree 
 stems and branches, out of the cover and away to 
 -a stronghold well known to himself, three miles 
 distant. That cover was drawn blank, and at mid- 
 night he was back again, caterwauling to the moon. 
 
 To the fox, however, as a raider, we must give 
 the first place, owing to his coolness and audacity ; 
 and not from a sporting point of view, for that has 
 been most ably dealt with by the most competent 
 authorities, but from that of the farmers and the 
 farmer's cottagers. Foxes are very numerous in 
 this district, in fact there are too many earths for 
 -sport. 
 
 Ringing round and round, without a kill, may be
 
 86 Drift from Xonosbore. 
 
 fair exercise for the horses and their riders but not 
 for the hounds, good kills make a keen pack. I 
 have known a vixen, before the sound of a pack in 
 full cry chasing her grey dog mate was lost in the 
 distance, bring her cubs out to play on the sunny 
 side of the copse hedge near her earth, and sit on 
 her haunches listening, as her family of young 
 hopefuls played around her, well knowing that 
 her grey-chapped council-chief and family provider 
 would do his best to come safe back home again. 
 
 Modern changes have not yet touched some 
 districts over which I have wandered of late. One 
 old farm I visited had been a manor house in past 
 days ; it had a sale bill posted on one of the gate 
 piers those gates were fine specimens of the old 
 wrought-iron work of Sussex. Close to the road, 
 and joining the old farm buildings, is the ruined 
 mill which was used at one time for grinding the 
 corn grown on the extensive fields that surrounded 
 the farmhouse. From the appearance of the mill 
 stream, now choked up to a mere ditch of running 
 water, foul to look at from the drainings of clay 
 lands on either side of it, a century of disuse must 
 have passed away to have made changes so ruinous 
 in all directions. All about is now in a state of 
 ruin and decay, not a sound can be heard but the
 
 Nature's IRaifcers. 87, 
 
 drip and trickle of the water that still finds its 
 way through the mill. The solid walls, built with 
 the small fine bricks that this part of the country 
 was once famous for, will last, judging from the 
 appearance of them, for centuries yet ; all the brick 
 and stone- work of that farm is good and firm. It 
 is the wood-work outside that tells its age. The 
 upper windows, oak-mullioned, with diamond 
 quarry lights of small size, are bulged out and 
 canted by the weight above them ; even the cant 
 roof over them is slewed and loosened. The roofs, 
 covered with heavy stone slabs, look as solid as a 
 rock. This is very easily accounted for. Sussex 
 oak timber, the best of it, was at one time used for 
 rafters to support the massive covering of stone 
 slabs. As for the chimney stacks, age and weather 
 have not left their mark on them, beyond the moss 
 and lichen stains. The upper windows had simply 
 gone wrong through neglect. Stone-arched win- 
 dows are all round the ground floor, stained green 
 with minute mosses ; here again the lights are 
 quarries of curious pattern. 
 
 There is something about that new sale bill 
 informing all that pass by that the farm and lands 
 belonging to it will be sold as whole property if 
 required ; or, failing that, in portions to suit the
 
 88 JDrift from %on0sbore. 
 
 convenience of purchasers, for building purposes, 
 that does not quite fall in with one's views. The 
 rumour that a new line of railway may probably 
 pass through wild lands closely adjoining accounts 
 no doubt for the owner's desire to sell. Farming 
 does not pay we are told, nor does building houses, 
 especially when they are built on speculating lines. 
 If there is not a living to be got in certain places, 
 it is useless to build houses for more people to live 
 in whilst the district will not fully support those 
 that are there. Three fine woodland estates, where 
 at one time, well within our day, it would have been 
 almost a crime to break the turf, have had their 
 timber felled and grubbed ; they have steam- 
 ploughed the ground, harrowed and levelled it, at 
 the same time spreading tons on tons of waste lime 
 over it ; so that the woodland flora will pass away 
 for ever and a day. This has been done, as enor- 
 mous notice boards with large white letters inform 
 us, " for the convenience and benefit of purchasers 
 either in large or small portions ". Some of these 
 boards are at the least fifty feet in length, and seven 
 feet in width, fixed high up, on the strut and brace 
 principle, their appearance certainly does not add 
 to the beauty of the surrounding scenery. It has 
 been a matter to ponder over of late how very
 
 Nature's IRatfcers. 89 
 
 pleasant a certain class are making things for the 
 benefit of those who only a few years ago were 
 outsiders. No one, if they will but accept the great 
 advantages offered at the present time, need now be 
 left out in the cold. 
 
 " How far is it from here to Brinkholme Mill?" 
 I ask. 
 
 " Eh ! there's Old Brinkem Mill, happen thet's 
 it, 'bout three mile furder on, I be goin' nigh there 
 with this 'ere box o' new laid eggs. The missus 
 sez as eggs is eggs jist now, for the foxes hev 
 played old Harry with a lot o 1 the layin' hens. She 
 missed twenty on 'em at one goo ; two days arter 
 we was a-plowin' the little field nigh the huss, an' 
 we turns all the lot on 'em up in the furrers, iv'ry 
 one on 'em hed got their necks bruk clean through 
 at one snap. Last year I 'members in thet 'ere hard 
 weather they thievin' warmints let the old gal hev 
 summut; for turkeys, geese, ducks an' fowls all 
 went the same way. She said as how the hunt 
 gentry hed give her five poun' fur the mischief them 
 'ere foxes hed done. I reckins as thet is a most 
 'menjous 'mount o' money, an' no mistake ; but the 
 master he groused 'bout it, an' sed as it waun't enuf 
 tu set things right ag'in." 
 
 Whether it was that the pleasure of having some one
 
 90 Drift trom Xonosbore. 
 
 to chat to, on a dreary road, caused him to give a 
 cheerful hitch up to the precious box he was carry- 
 ing over his shoulder by a stick, I am not prepared 
 to say, but down that box fell with a crash on the 
 hard road. For a few moments he looked down on 
 it with feelings too deep for words, then he found 
 his tongue, and in rude rustic eloquence gave his 
 opinion on the utter incapacity shown by women 
 folks in " cordin' a box o' eggs with a bit o' old rope- 
 yarn frum a sheep hurdle. Ah, well ! 'tain't no 
 good cryin' over spilt milk, nor yet smashed eggs, 
 I reckins. When I gits back an' tells her, I shell 
 get a tidy lot o' cherry-clapper pie ; when she da 
 start chouterin' there ain't no tellin' when she'll stop. 
 I'll goo back where I cum frum, the sooner I tells 
 her the sooner she'll git the rough edge off her 
 cherry-clapper. You goo over this 'ere long medder, 
 there's a track through it, then through that 'ere 
 wood beyont, an' ye'll find yerself lookin' down on 
 Brinkem Pond." 
 
 The wood was well timbered, but the numerous 
 cuts and runs bridged over by broad single planks, 
 all the water-courses going in one direction, told 
 that we were near our destination. Great tussock 
 humps, tangled masses of sword-blade grass, moss- 
 patches varied to a degree in colouring, with dwarf
 
 IRature's IRaifcers. 9i 
 
 alders and bush willows composed the cover border- 
 ing the water-runs. Bitterns have been shot here ; 
 one was dropped in the latter part of February, 
 1895. A fine male bird of this species that I 
 now have, exquisitely set up by a naturalist 
 friend of my own, in one of the bitterns' most 
 characteristic attitudes assumed at times either for 
 attack or defence, was shot in the same locality. 
 Wild ducks, teal, woodcock and snipe are all found 
 here, also certain members of the raptorial family. 
 The wild ducks or mallards are fairly numerous, 
 taking into consideration the fact that the great 
 woodland lake, locally called " Brinkem Pond," is 
 well inland, sixteen miles from the tide. Old 
 sluices, although built originally in the most solid 
 manner to fit the thick iron grooves or slides in the 
 massive piers of the sluice walls, will not last for 
 ever. For when iron-working was abandoned in 
 this district, beyond keeping the water in the lake 
 all flood water washing over the top of the sluice, 
 arched over for that purpose the sluices were never 
 raised ; so they were gradually rotted in places and 
 let the water out. From the far end of the lake we 
 could see with our glasses that such had been the 
 case here, for the banks were dry on either side 
 down to mid-channel, and a derrick showed at the
 
 92 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 mill end Looking down the run of water in the 
 lake, deep even yet in places although run down as 
 low as it could get, I saw bunches of fowl scattered 
 about here and there. Sweeping the sloping mud- 
 banks, a flick and flicker of wings showed through 
 my field-glass, which decided me to make for cover, 
 so that the birds feeding or resting on the mud 
 might not be disturbed. With one exception, and 
 that was where a great patch of osmunda regalis 
 showed warm browns and tawny yellows, our crawl, 
 or rather creep, was a dry one. Firs, heather and 
 bracken formed the cover to the very edge of the 
 lake ; in fact it was like crawling to the brink of a 
 long sloping railway cutting, and looking over it as 
 well as up and down it With the exception of a 
 slight dampness where that patch of king-ferns had 
 flourished in rank luxuriance when the leaves were 
 green, I kept dry. At first I thought it unfortunate 
 that the lake was not full, but in a very short time 
 had reasons to alter my opinion. Tortuous water- 
 runs showed in the sloping banks leading direct 
 from the cover ; they looked as if several plough- 
 teams had started fair and square from the brink, 
 and then bolted in all directions, with the plough- 
 men hanging on behind. These runs or feeders to 
 the lake were about the width of a good plough-
 
 Nature's IRatoers. 93 
 
 furrow ; in places a large stone or the trunk of a 
 submerged tree formed miniature dams over which 
 the water spirted, tinkling away down to the main 
 stream. 
 
 Soft querks and spattering siftings reach us as 
 we lie stretched out on the dead ferns, for no one 
 has cut them here. Then we see four pairs of 
 mallards running towards our ambush over the 
 mud ; wild ducks travel at a great pace, they are 
 all alive from bill to tail. They are searching 
 for the large fresh-water mussels left high and dry, 
 gaping on the mud ; each duck is attended by her 
 handsome mate in all the glory of perfect plumage. 
 Here we see bird chivalry and courtesy to perfection, 
 the drakes finding mussels for their sober-coloured 
 mates, not because these are not able to find for 
 themselves, far from it ; but for the simple reason 
 that the males consider it their place and province 
 to do so. Stretching out their necks and ruffling 
 all their feathers, they softly call when they have 
 a lucky find ; up rushes the duck, nips fast hold 
 of the gaper and swings it from side to side as a 
 terrier shakes a rat ; after wrenching it from the 
 shell she washes it in the water of the runnel and 
 swallows it. Then the drake finds a smaller one 
 for himself. All at once we see all the ducks that
 
 94 H>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 were on the water in mid-stream flirt the water up 
 in a shower with their wings and take short dives 
 under water. Then we miss the pairs that had 
 been feeding directly in front of us, and knowing 
 from past experience that there must be some 
 cause for this behaviour on their part, we patiently 
 wait and look on the broken up surface of the mud- 
 banks. There they are stretched out full length, 
 looking as small as possible, the ducks in the ruts 
 of the mud, and the drakes by the dead mussel 
 shells and the grey stones from the upland moors 
 which have been washed down there in flood time. 
 So cleverly have they concealed all the conspicuous 
 parts of their plumage that even at short range we 
 cannot make them out as birds, without glasses. 
 
 Skep-skep-scape-e-e- ! and a snipe springs from 
 a plash about twenty yards to the right and below 
 us; he shoots over the water at top speed and 
 drops in the sedges. Then on the opposite side 
 we see a swiftly moving shadow going to and fro, 
 but no form can be made out. Presently a large 
 dingy-brown bird with pointed wings and a long 
 tail shoots over the water on to our side. As the 
 bird turns in flight, we can see that it is a female 
 hen-harrier in mature plumage ; she has come from 
 a wild open heath two miles distant for her supper.
 
 IRature's 1Raifcers. 95 
 
 Flying low, with a side rake, it was impossible to 
 distinguish the form of her 100 yards away. She 
 had not come over those squatting ducks, for her 
 beat was below them, but on her return their keen 
 eyes tell them she will do this if they do not shift, 
 so directly she turns to come back, looking in the 
 distance no larger than a snipe, all the lot on feed 
 dash into the feeding runs helter-skelter, and there 
 they lie with only their heads and bills above water. 
 Even then they have not managed to shuffle down 
 many yards from where the hawk dashed over on 
 her return. She may have made a quarry, but she 
 did not do it whilst we were watching her. Two 
 days after this visit to Brinkem Pond the same 
 bird was placed in my hands, she had been left 
 for me, the mistress of the house said. I have seen 
 a grouse killed and partly eaten by a male hen- 
 harrier, a much smaller bird when compared with 
 the female. The beautiful creature left for me 
 was quite capable of striking the head as clean as 
 if it had been done with a knife off any pheasant, 
 grouse, duck or teal in the kingdom ; and the 
 harriers do it, both the marsh and the hen-harriers. 
 The badger, an inoffensive animal that folks are 
 doing their best to exterminate in all directions, 
 can barely be called a raider in the full sense of the
 
 96 H)rift from Xonssbore. 
 
 word. Recently we have paid a visit to some of 
 his haunts in a " No-man's land" country, but with 
 little profit. When they are killed off, two and 
 three at a time as we have seen them lately, it is 
 not to be wondered at if the poor persecuted 
 creatures flit for good ; at least from the districts 
 where they have been so cruelly harried. A boar 
 badger will lie out in the open for a time, before 
 finally making up his mind as to where he will 
 earth next. The vermin called by courtesy wild 
 rabbits are " harled," where they fall to the shot, a 
 very expeditious process that not only lightens 
 them considerably for the boys to carry, but pro- 
 vides free, and without any exertion on his part, 
 most tasty feeding for the grey brock on his wan- 
 derings. His sensitive nose tells him in what part 
 of his domains the offal lies, so he makes straight 
 for it and luxuriates exceedingly. The badger or 
 badgers feed on the paunches of the rabbits, and 
 other creatures furred and feathered do the same, 
 until the offal is cleared off. Yet strange to tell, 
 the creature has the whole credit of rabbit-killing 
 placed on his shoulders. For the purposes of 
 sport pure and simple, the small copper-wire brutes 
 are as good as the best, but the matter rests there ; 
 speaking from experience, I should decline with
 
 Nature's TRaifcers. 97 
 
 thanks a brace of bush and heath rabbits if they 
 were offered to me. Warren rabbits with half, and 
 in some instances more than that, of domesticated 
 rabbit blood in their veins, are very different both 
 in size and in their edible qualities from bush 
 rabbits. 
 
 After a long tramp through fir-woods, bordered 
 on their outer edges by thick stone walls composed 
 of moor-stones piled one on the other without 
 mortar, I found myself late one afternoon on a 
 wide heath. There was something very cheerless 
 about the look of things ; nothing was there except 
 stunted heather, scrub-firs, grey sand and large 
 stone litter. How far I may have travelled in the 
 course of the day I do not know, but fatigue and a 
 ferocious appetite told me I had walked quite far 
 enough. To add to the general discomfort, I had 
 gone through a great moss-cushion in a bog, out of 
 which I was only extricated by throwing myself 
 backwards, or matters might have been a bit 
 serious. There are bogs and bogs, also "quakes," 
 all varying in character and according to locality ; 
 but one and all are alike in their dangerous 
 treachery. You are standing on the hard dry 
 moorland road that winds along the lowest slopes 
 of the hills above you, yet, for all that, if you step
 
 98 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 off it before you have gone twenty paces downhill, 
 the water will be squelching up over your boots . 
 The worst of it is, no warning is given of the mis- 
 hap ; the moss-cushion you are standing on is 
 springy, but still, as you fancy, firm enough for a 
 very brief stay on it ; a vain delusion, for, with a 
 bubble up from below and a sinking hiss down- 
 wards, you are done for ; a part, at least, of you is 
 fast. 
 
 With the exception of a few pairs of jays nothing 
 has come under notice the whole day long, it has 
 been a most disheartening tramp, on and on over 
 this dreary stretch ; then the track we are following 
 leads downwards, and a more generous growth 
 begins to show here and there. Two more turns 
 in the descending track bring a complete transfor- 
 mation ; we find ourselves in a wooded hollow, 
 well timbered so far as we are able to judge, about 
 a mile in length and half a mile in width, taking all 
 the gentle undulations into consideration. So far as 
 looks may be trusted, that hollow might have been 
 as it is for centuries. Trees had fallen and rotted 
 where they fell ; the banks of the narrow trout-rills 
 that run through the place are four and in some 
 places six feet deep in pure leaf mould, with the 
 gnarled, bleached roots of forest giants showing
 
 IRature's IRatfcers. 99 
 
 through it all. Long stripes, patches and runs of 
 the thickest and greenest turf that could be walked 
 over, show in all directions, but not one sign of wild 
 life do we see or hear. There is only the trickle of 
 the water on its downward course to break the 
 silence. One more turn down the hollow and the 
 why and wherefore of this desolation is only too 
 apparent, for a couple of loads of drain-pipes are 
 stacked up on one side of the track we were follow- 
 ing, and we see the long line of earth-ridges showing 
 plainly where others have been laid down in another 
 direction. It is the same old story, one of nature's 
 sanctuaries that had not been invaded for generations 
 has been broken into at last, and the wild things 
 have gone. After clearing this beautiful but quiet 
 place we see a keeper's cottage of considerable size ; 
 .it is very evident that a couple of woodmen's dwell- 
 ings have been turned into one to suit the present 
 owner of the estate. Dog-kennels and fowl-houses 
 -are in evidence, also some first-class spaniels of small 
 size, lemon and white in colour. That looks very 
 like business. But the most striking features of the 
 whole are two very large pheasant aviaries, high, 
 wide, and long, covered over with wire netting and 
 boarded up all round, about three feet in height, with 
 jough-sawn boarding. This tells its own tale ; it is
 
 ioo Brtft from Xonasbore. 
 
 a wise precaution, for if a fox or a cat running wild 
 sneaked round them the birds would not see them. 
 Knowing well from past observations that all birds 
 delight in the last rays of the setting sun, we get on 
 some rising ground to see the occupants of those 
 aviaries take their fir-pole perches. It is a sight, 
 for pheasants from India and China are there, the 
 hardier species that will bear our English winters 
 out in the open. This looks like some acclimatising 
 scheme in progress, and my surmisings prove to be 
 correct, for I fall in with one of the keeper's boys 
 and talk to him a bit. 
 
 " How long hevit bin like this 'ere? Why, nigh 
 on two years, I reckins. All the warmints is gone 
 what was roun' about here, foxes, stoats, weasels, 
 hawks an' owls. Our master, what this 'ere place 
 belongs to, is agoin' tu turn them prankt, furrin 
 pheasants out, some on 'em leastways, fur tu breed 
 jist like t'other pheasants. Sum on 'em hev bred, 
 and there's a lot o' half-bred uns ready to go out 
 when the time cums. They're a pranky lot, I can 
 tell 'ee. An' one o' the medders below is agoin' to 
 be made into a fish pond ; they've laid a lot o* 
 drains down already, fur the water fur it. Now, 
 hap you'll think I'm a-lyin', but I ain't, if I tell 'ee 
 some o' them 'ere Chinee birds' tails is three and
 
 IRature's TRaifcers. 101 
 
 four feet long ; when they big uns rises there'll be 
 summat fur ""em tu pull at." 
 
 The experiment will be a costly one, and from 
 what I saw of the surroundings it will prove a 
 complete failure. One thing is certain, the prepara- 
 tions for it have cleared the wild things off as if 
 they had never existed there. 
 
 Go where you will, wholesale destruction is the 
 rule applied to all creatures that are not game ones. 
 How far and how well this is carried out is best 
 known by those who have the orders for doing it. 
 Some wild things escape for a long time, for they 
 pay their visits here and there and are gone again, 
 to the mortification of their would-be captors ; but 
 the younger and less experienced ones generally 
 come to grief before they reach maturity. The 
 men may know well that the creatures they have 
 been told to kill are really guiltless of the deeds 
 imputed to them, but that has nothing to do with 
 it ; they are kept and paid for doing just what they 
 are told to do ; and they have to do it or go. 
 
 The whole order of things has changed remark- 
 ably of late years. Sport as it once existed and 
 we hope that it may exist still in some remote 
 places was sport, carried on for its own varied 
 pleasures. At the present time it appears with
 
 102 H>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 some to be only a matter of pounds, shillings and' 
 pence. If certain shootings are bought or rented,, 
 the full value of the outlay in the return of game 
 killed is thought to be the essential point ; yet it 
 may be that more are missed or are frightened off 
 the premises, to take to those belonging to other 
 people. Over-shooting is bad for all concerned an 
 it. Let the weather be what it may, if there is a 
 chance of going out some will go. The result of 
 this is that fur and feather go also ; but it will be 
 to quiet covers belonging to others, where they can,, 
 for a time at least, rest in peace and safety. The 
 game laws and game shooting, much as they may 
 concern others, do not concern us in the least, from, 
 the naturalist's view of the matter. It is the de- 
 structive principles so rigorously brought to bear on 
 other creatures that we deplore. The banks that 
 surround home covers the hedgerow banks we 
 have seen completely tunnelled by ferocious thieving 
 rats. So much has this been the case recently that 
 amateur ratcatchers, with their ferrets and sharp, 
 well-bred fox-terriers, have been not unwelcome 
 visitors round about the covers. The poor wise 
 owls have a little protection given them ; in close 
 time at least they are supposed to have it, but they 
 have a double charge of persecution again whea
 
 IRature's IRaifcers. 103 
 
 close time is over. A man that I asked to give his 
 reasons for killing them told me that he "didn't 
 like the look on 'em ". 
 
 The jays have scant mercy shown them as a rule ; 
 exceptions, where extreme measures are carried out 
 against them, do exist on some estates, but such 
 cases are few and far between. Taking into con- 
 sideration their numbers, for they are still numerous 
 in some of their haunts, one must come to the con- 
 clusion that they are not half so hurtful as they are 
 represented to be even from the game-keepers' 
 point of view, or they would be thinned off more. 
 Jays are excellent cover guards in the daytime; in 
 the same way in which the peewits at night guard 
 the fields which they frequent. Both birds give 
 tongue as they term it. To the small allotment 
 holders who have their cultivated patches in shel- 
 tered hollows close to the woods, this bird must be 
 considered as a feathered benefactor, for he will, if 
 permitted to do so, keep within due bounds the 
 small raiders that play havoc with their garden 
 produce. Recently I saw at least a dozen jays 
 watching for, and not only watching but capturing, 
 some of the wood-mice that had ventured out on 
 the sunny slopes of the allotment grounds. As the 
 crops there are vegetable ones, the less attention
 
 104 Brift from Xongsbore. 
 
 they have paid them by the mice, when in a young 
 state, the better. 
 
 Small creatures that work their will in the night- 
 time on cultivated produce are very difficult to deal 
 with effectively. Not that they confine their opera- 
 tions strictly to the night, but that is their principal 
 time for being out and about ; the result in the 
 traps shows this plainly, when compared with day- 
 light captures. What the result of all this killing 
 off of nature's police will be, time will show. Small 
 deer are spreading in all directions out in the open 
 country ; and the cry is, still they come. One 
 would think that the natural remedy for all this 
 would very quickly suggest itself to some folks, but 
 somehow it does not, and matters remain as they 
 are. Opinions differ on matters concerning natural 
 life, and very few care to take the trouble to find 
 out on their own account the real state of the case, 
 either for or against so-called raiders. This is not 
 to be wondered at when they are satisfied to accept 
 a verdict on the subject from those who are very 
 much interested in the telling. If this killing goes 
 on and we fear it will with the exception of the 
 fox, a protected raider, the others will pass away 
 from many districts as if they had never existed.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A WATER RAIDER. 
 
 OTTERS range the rivers from their sources down 
 to the tide, and back again as the seasons change. 
 Pike, perch, trout, bream and roach, not forgetting 
 eels in profusion, supply their larder. Where the 
 river Medway rises I have known them bring 
 their young close to cottagers' gardens, which 
 the shallow stream divided from the grazing 
 meadows on the forest side. One of my friends 
 found a whole family, the dam and her three otter 
 kittens, sporting about in his dip-hole. As " nine- 
 eyes," locally so called, were very abundant in that 
 particular stream, their provender, or at least the 
 greater part of it, was easy to get. There is at the 
 present time a very deep-rooted prejudice existing 
 against these toothsome little " lamperns," or as 
 they are dubbed at times, "stone-suckers," owing 
 to their habit of fixing on a stone in the stream with 
 their mouths, some fifty or more at a time, looking 
 
 like a bunch of dark weeds moved by the current. 
 (105)
 
 106 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 Alterations have taken place more or less in that 
 neighbourhood, but in the heart of the country 
 otters hold their own still, and will do for years to- 
 come. At the rate the otter travels, when moving 
 from place to place in the water not fishing long 
 distances are made without the least fatigue. Tak- 
 ing weight and size into due consideration, this is. 
 without exception the most powerful, determined, 
 and intelligent of all our wild animals. Under 
 favourable conditions, and these simply mean safe 
 quarters and good food, from twenty to twenty- 
 four pounds, according to sex, will be the weight of 
 a fine otter. As a rule, in waters where they have 
 to work hard for their living, the weights are under 
 those I have mentioned. I prefer not to write 
 about their capture, but will endeavour to give 
 some of the life history of this prince of fishers. 
 First as to his bill of fare rabbits, rats, ducks, 
 fowls and moorhens, rails, frogs, all kinds of fresh- 
 water fishes, eels for choice in preference to trout 
 when the chance offers, and any salt-water fish or 
 fishes an otter can capture, when for a time the 
 mouths of tidal rivers are their coursing waters. 
 Where otters locate they have their casting mounds,, 
 and these from long use show out a luxuriant tuft 
 of bright greenery. If the castings or voids are
 
 a Mater IRatoer. 10? 
 
 examined, the rejectments of fur, feather or fin will 
 certainly be found there. 
 
 All the creature's movements, the few that it will 
 give you the chance of seeing either on the land or 
 on the water, are marked by a certain quiet alert- 
 ness. Sometimes he will let himself go canting 
 down the current of a swift deep trout-stream look- 
 ing like a dead thing ; but his sharp eyes are taking 
 note of the slightest objects on either side and in 
 front, as he floats down ; the powerful tail alone 
 directing his course. Certain runs or paths, otter 
 tracks, can be easily traced by those that know how 
 to walk without trampling on their " spraints " or 
 " seals ". For their pleasure, or it may be their 
 necessity, they leave the water at times to travel 
 over a portion of land that leads them to a different 
 part of the same water which they have been work- 
 ing. Copse growth, with a plashed line of bank 
 dividing it from a strip of grass and the river or 
 stream, as the case may be, finds favour in their 
 eyes ; for the dry sedge-heaps and tussock humps 
 provide warm dry shelters or lairs for their young 
 families. When they are giving out their curious calls 
 to each other in the season, and when their young 
 get about, are the only times, as a rule, when for a 
 brief space you can watch them. Chance observa-
 
 108 Drift from Xonosbore. 
 
 tions do not count ; for it is merely a rush from 
 under the bank that your footsteps have shaken ; 
 just a dark flash for a second, and that is all you 
 will see of the otter's exit. One evening, recently, 
 I watched the setting of a trap for the capture of a 
 certain otter. From the very first I could see 
 that the individual would have all his trouble for 
 nothing; the unset trap was under his arm, and 
 the chain of the trap in his pocket. 
 
 " It 'ill hold un, wun't it? " he observed. 
 
 " Yes it will if he gets in it." 
 
 " Ah, well, thet's all right." 
 
 Wading into the water he placed the set trap on 
 a flat slab of stone, near a small alder stem under 
 water, fastening the chain also under water to the 
 butt end of the stem. 
 
 "There, thet's all right, ain't it? he wun't see 
 nuthin' afore he feels it ; I reckins as I'll hev him 
 in the marnin'. When he gets fixed he'll go fur 
 deep water, an' the trap an' chain will drown him." 
 
 But as he had rested his hand on the stem, and 
 the taint of human contact was on the trap and on 
 the chain, the would-be capturer had his cold wade 
 up to his middle, in the evening and very early in 
 the morning, for nothing. For many years I have 
 not shot or caught either animals or birds, but this
 
 a Hdater IRaffcer. io& 
 
 does not proceed from any deficiency in craft, for if 
 I thought it necessary I could procure alive and 
 uninjured an otter, single or mated, without any 
 assistance. Owing to the formation of the animal 
 there is the greatest difficulty in gripping it ; you 
 might as well have a short thick eel to deal with ; 
 the otter is a combination of writhing muscles. 
 One that was caught in a trap by both forelegs, 
 without breaking them, was fixed by a pair of horny 
 hands that gripped like a vice. 
 
 " Have you got him, Ned ? " 
 
 The squire and one of his men were there. 
 
 " I hev thet, squire, fore an' aft." 
 
 " Now then, boy, look sharp with that sack. 
 Hold the mouth wide open. Sure you have him,. 
 Ned?" 
 
 " All right, squire." 
 
 " Then I'll loose the trap from him." 
 
 Directly the otter was free from the trap, it jerked 
 its body from side to side in the same way that a 
 powerful fish will when held by the head and tail, 
 only more viciously ; in fact so strong were the 
 convulsive jerks from one side to the other that had 
 not the boy fairly pulled the sack over the creature's 
 head and shoulders it would have got free. 
 
 " A close shave that, Ned, eh?"
 
 no Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 " 'Twas thet, squire. Look here at my finger-nails ; 
 they're broke off iv'ry one on 'em down to the 
 quick. I've fixed badgers an' foxes as you knows, 
 lots o' times ; but it's the fust an' the last time as I 
 fixes one o' they damned long-tailed things, as is in 
 the sack, with my hands ag'in." 
 
 From the thick neck down to the root of the tail, 
 the otter is nearly the same size, so far as a grip is 
 concerned ; and the fur pile, from the water-resisting 
 quality of it, gives but a very poor surface for hold- 
 ing. I have heard some say : " Why not lay hold 
 of the tail, and hold by that when captured ? " That 
 would be very nice and convenient if the otter 
 would keep quiet when suspended by it, but it has 
 not the least intention of doing this ; it turns itself 
 up, swings from side to side, snapping in very close 
 compass at leg or thigh ; and the sooner the job is 
 over the better it is for all concerned in it. From 
 the distances they travel over, up and down and 
 across country, the real harm, if any, done by them 
 is not noticed, because their diet is a varied one. 
 How they come before you in the most unexpected 
 manner, and it may be in your opinion in un- 
 likely places, it would be useless to conjecture ; and 
 they vanish from your sight in the same mysterious 
 fashion. Small fish are killed by them at one bite,
 
 a Mater IRaifcer. in 
 
 or at least thoroughly disabled, that is, fish from 
 half a pound to a pound in weight. Larger ones, 
 from four to ten pounds, are not captured without 
 some trouble, for they shoot along with amazing 
 rapidity. Those who have seen a large trout shoot 
 up stream to his hover when alarmed, will fully 
 understand this. But the otter moves quicker ; let 
 the fish turn or double as they will they are gripped 
 by the strong jaws just where their vital powers are 
 to a great extent centred. There are no hard and 
 fast rules that can be applied to the seizure of any 
 creature ; much that is or has been asserted must be 
 accepted simply for what it is worth. Those that I 
 have seen have been fixed just below the gills, or 
 directly across the belly, a most deadly bite. The 
 shoulder has been the part fixed on by certain 
 writers for the otter to begin feeding at, and they 
 may have seen this I do not for one moment wish 
 to question their statements but all the fish that I 
 have seen them feeding on, or that have been left 
 partly eaten by them, have been commenced from 
 the tail ; and others, as well acquainted with them 
 as myself, have noticed the same thing. The 
 whistle, as their curious call is termed, is, I think, 
 used as a means of communication at certain 
 seasons of the year ; for, just before mating for the
 
 112 Brift from Xonasbore. 
 
 year's domestic duties, they chatter to each other 
 at night considerably. 
 
 Bush rabbits are vermin pure and simple, at the 
 present time overmuch protected for their own good 
 and that of the people on whose crops they feed at 
 times. Otters kept in zoological collections are, as 
 a rule, sorry objects as compared with their wild 
 and free relations. This is not to be wondered at ; 
 warm blood to any rapacious creature formed ex- 
 pressly for the purpose of killing and eating others 
 is as a draught of generous wine to a fainting 
 man. Their natures demand it, and no other food 
 will supply what that alone can give. When some 
 of my pets got a little out of sorts they had warm 
 prey, but I killed it first before they had it. The 
 fox, polecat, stoat, weasel or rat can have the otter's 
 leavings if they come that way, also the magpie, 
 crow, rook or jackdaw ; but, when feeding, nothing 
 will cause him to leave his catch but his enemy, 
 man, or man's staunch friend, the dog. When fish 
 are very numerous he catches several and eats the 
 best parts of them, leaving the remains here and 
 there as he goes up or down ; but if the reverse 
 side comes to the front, and fish are few and far 
 between, a hearty meal is made then and there, at 
 the place of capture. So far as my own feelings
 
 H Mater IRaifcer. us 
 
 are concerned, I could look on with pleasure and 
 see them bank all the fish from a mill pond ; but 
 others take a very different view of the case, and 
 one must own that they are quite in the right from 
 their point of view. It all depends how the matter 
 affects the pocket. Where the millers have the 
 letting of the fishing on their waters, they object to 
 otters on principle. For in the same way that the 
 fox will have the finest and the most plump poultry 
 near his haunts, by some means the otter or otters 
 find out where the finest fish are in the mill pools, 
 especially if they are trout ; and they sample them 
 in the most generous manner. When one of the 
 club members has been written to in glowing terms, 
 and confidentially, as to the lay of a certain brace 
 of spanking trout ; and the miller or his son finds 
 the remains of that fine brace on the bank the very 
 morning they expect the patron down, a distance 
 of some fifty miles, to try for them, remarks are 
 apt to be made far from complimentary to the 
 long-tailed fishers. And the strange part of the 
 proceedings is this, after these very large trout have 
 been captured and eaten, there will not be the least 
 sign, for many a day, of otter seals or their leavings. 
 Locality has very little to do with their increase 
 
 or decrease, but it has all to do with their size and 
 8
 
 114 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 weight. Haunts of theirs that I have been explor- 
 ing recently, are, as compared with those on a 
 Surrey river, of the most uninteresting nature, so 
 far as woodland scenery goes. Miles after miles of 
 large corn, root and grazing grounds broken up 
 with woods and copses, the whole of the land 
 sloping gently down to the tide line, a flat land 
 with the deep and dirty-looking rivers and streams 
 crawling slowly through it, bayed up and back, 
 unless in flood time, by tidal sluices and canal locks, 
 here fish are in abundance from pike to trout, 
 flounders and mullets, and no wonder that the 
 otters increase and grow in size. As to the eels, 
 fine silver-bellied ones the sharp-nosed eels 
 they were a few years ago, and we have reasons to 
 believe that they are at present, so plentiful that 
 they were far too common to talk about. How it 
 will end when matters wake up a bit, as some of 
 them term it, remains to be seen. Rumours are 
 afloat that the old water traffic will once more come 
 to the front : it has never really quite stopped on 
 some of the canals ; and that a fresh line or lines 
 of railways will cross the county. Judging from 
 what one sees, it will take years to accomplish the 
 waking up ; some districts do not lend themselves 
 to the work very readily.
 
 H Mater 1Rai&er, us 
 
 To return to our subject. Whether it is owing to 
 the ^confined spaces of water caused by the tide 
 gates and locks, or to the quantity of food so easily 
 procured, the otters here are finer animals than they 
 are in the chalk hill districts. I have observed 
 this in other rivers that ultimately carry the sleepy, 
 heavily laden barges out on the tide. 
 
 The otter must be considered as a raider, but it 
 is only when driven to extremity that his quiet raids 
 are noticed. He has been found and killed in a 
 stack-yard where the lambing folds were placed. 
 He was there for no good purpose, for the folds 
 were only a few hundred yards from his holt by the 
 river. He belongs to the weasel family, on the 
 aquatic side, and would kill a young lamb and eat 
 it with as muchTpleasure as a stoat would a young 
 xabbit.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IN SUSSEX. 
 
 MY rambles in Sussex have never been influenced 
 either by maps or by guide-books. I have left the- 
 main roads to pass through this still thickly tim- 
 bered, old-time country by ancient green rides and 
 forest tracks wherever it has been practicable to do- 
 this without trespassing on private property. When 
 it has been necessary to travel on some of the 
 lonely main roads, fringed with their quiet hedge- 
 row beauty, these have been left again at the first 
 break for wild country ; and lately I have been 
 following, as well as I could, the various waterways 
 that so liberally moisten Sussex. 
 
 The Arun and the Adur rise in this forest, the 
 first falling into the sea below Arundel, the second 
 discharging itself into the sea at Shoreham. The 
 Ouse and the Cockmare rise in the deep part of the 
 Weald, the former from two branches, one of which 
 has its spring in St. Leonard's Forest and the other 
 
 in the Forest of Worth, the two uniting near Lewes 
 (116)
 
 in 
 
 to run into the sea at Newhaven. The Medway 
 also rises on the borders of Ashdown Forest, if not 
 fairly within it, but this river does not concern us 
 here. The forest itself I know well, having spent 
 six months on it. For a long time after leaving it 
 I felt deeply oppressed by two celebrated historical 
 personages, his Satanic Majesty and Oliver Crom- 
 well. According to the rustic traditions, one and 
 the other had been very busy on and about the 
 forest. The first-named personage had been about 
 a long time before Oliver came on the scene, but 
 that was a matter of detail ; and whatever mischief 
 had been done in the past, one or the other was 
 credited with it. 
 
 Brambletyre Castle, on the edge of Ashdown, 
 was given over completely to Cromwell and his 
 Ironsides. There in their time these warriors ap- 
 peased furious appetites and distributed the pure 
 kiss of peace and brotherly love in all directions. 
 But old Brimstone, according to local tradition, 
 went prancing round always at night, just to see 
 what mischief he could find to do which would 
 thoroughly upset everybody. 
 
 The legend of the Devil's Dyke I had from one 
 of the forest dwellers as follows : " Ye see, arter 
 that 'ere furrin king was killed below here at
 
 118 H>rfft from Xonasbore. 
 
 Hastin's, Harrild summut it doan't much matter 
 what, fur he was a furriner 'cordin' to what I've 
 heerd tell a lot o' good people cum an' built 
 churches, an' larnt folks better things eddicated 
 'em a bit. Well them 'ere doin's upset old Brim- 
 stone, so he 'lowed all to hisself as he'd dig a dyke 
 an' let the sea in, an 1 swamp the lot on 'em, 
 churches and all. But he waun't 'lowed to do it, 
 fur ye see all his rampagerous work had to be done 
 afore cock-crow. One o' them 'ere good wimmin 
 what lived in one o' them church places, doin' good 
 all their lives like, had a wision, a day or two afore,, 
 o' wat sort o' a game he'd be up to ; so she got her- 
 self took over there, an' all she had with her was a 
 lamp an' a good old rooster kivered up in a baskit ; 
 not much sartinly, but they was too much fur 
 Brimstone. Ye knows he ain't 'lowed to do jist 
 as he likes ; he has his times an' seasons, an' this 
 'ere good creetur knowed as he wouldn't be 'lowed 
 to try that 'ere plan twice, if she could only git 
 the better on him this onst. Well, she was in a 
 hole, digged out o' the hillside, with a wattle-brush, 
 door afore it ; an' she see him start work. 'Twas 
 like a reg'lar airthquake the way he set to work 
 on that 'ere dyke job. Not only that, the poor 
 frightened creetur could see as he'd git his job done
 
 3n Sussey. 119 
 
 long afore cock-crow if he warn't prevented, and 
 the more she prayed agin him, the harder he tore 
 away at it. She'd took that 'ere rooster with her 
 to keep away the hill spirits they don't like 'em 
 an' then all at once a woice whispered in her 
 ear : ' Light your lamp and uncover the basket ! ' 
 Directly that 'ere rooster seed the light, he crowed 
 out like a good 'un three times. Brimstone heard 
 him and bolted ; he thought his time was up. An' 
 that's how the place was saved." 
 
 To return to our subject, we leave the roads and 
 travel over the forest turf for miles, the line of 
 country we are following being little changed, so 
 far as primitive nature is concerned, from the time 
 when this particular district was one of the chief 
 centres in iron-working in England, until various 
 causes, which we need not enter into, broke up this 
 special industry. 
 
 How old some of the large cottages for so they 
 were called may be it would be difficult to conjec- 
 ture ; they are in reality large houses, occupied at 
 the present time by two or three families. Their 
 quarterings and the rafters that support the massive 
 Sussex slabs covering the roofs (not tiles or slates) 
 are as sound now as they were some few hundred 
 years ago when they were so solidly built ; for all the
 
 120 Brift from Xonssbore, 
 
 woodwork inside and out is of oak, black with age, 
 and almost as hard as iron itself. That valuable 
 secrets are handed down from father to son their 
 present skill in ironworking proves conclusively, 
 for in some of those large wayside smithies, with 
 their Rembrandt-like interiors, edge tools are still 
 made that will cut like razors. 
 
 If a large stack of brushwood were heaped up on 
 the high road that alone separates the large lakes 
 from their funnel-shaped tumbling bays, and lighted 
 at night, it would not require a very great amount 
 of fancy to think that old times had come again, 
 when the hammer ponds were illuminated with all 
 the weird woodland beauty in which they were set 
 by the light of the blast furnaces and forges. These 
 were the smelting furnaces and hammer forges of 
 that old time. I like that word-of-mouth history 
 you get from the native population none too 
 numerous now, as you will find if you get mazed 
 in a network of forest tracks and the " dims " are 
 coming on. 
 
 Historical records are easily got at mere matters 
 of dry detail ; but the people give these and more, 
 for with them, if you will but listen, is to be learned 
 all the woodlore of centuries. You must, however, 
 live with the people, and be one of them, to get it
 
 3n Susses. 121 
 
 Much has been written about folklore the people's 
 own traditions by those who have never heard it 
 at first-hand. If they had, I fancy they would have 
 written very differently on some matters. 
 
 Wandering about in all directions I have seen 
 many types of woodland beauty, but none to sur- 
 pass or it may be equal the lake surroundings of 
 this quiet ironstone district. The trees grow down 
 to the edge of the clear water ; tall ferns, and 
 heather that reaches above the knee, form the cover 
 beneath them. A painter could find subjects to 
 work on here for a year all of them beautiful 
 round the old mills, and if he thought it fit to intro- 
 duce a brother of the gentle craft in old monastic 
 garb, come down to ask the miller where the largest 
 pike and perch hover, the figure would be in perfect 
 keeping with the mill and all its surroundings. 
 
 But changes have taken place, and the thud and 
 clang of hammers and the roar of smelting furnaces 
 are things of the past. The only sounds to be 
 heard there now are the pipings of kingfishers, the 
 creaking of grebes, and the twitter of red-polled 
 linnets flitting to and fro in the alders. In the dis- 
 tance, looking as calm and quiet as the scenes we 
 are sketching, is the monastery of the peaceful 
 monks of Cowfold.
 
 122 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 In past times the forest district was famous for 
 fur, feather and fin ; even now wild life can be found 
 in plenty the old deer-parks shelter some of it,, 
 and the wild lands the rest. 
 
 The birds follow their flight-lines as of old, and 
 some of them stay far beyond the time that great 
 authorities assign to them. Valuable specimens of 
 bird-forms reach us from time to time that we 
 should not dream of recording, and the habitats 
 of these are safe from collectors. They reach us 
 a few hours after their death in all the sheen of 
 their feathering from the woods, the marshes, the 
 shore, and from off the tide, sent by those who 
 hold me in kindly remembrance of past days, when 
 I was one with them. On one of the large meres 
 was a fowling-punt last time I visited it, painted 
 light grey ; it told its own story, for fowling-punts 
 are not placed on waters to shoot dab-chicks. 
 
 How much longer the forest will remain as forest- 
 land one cannot say ; certain signs show in various 
 directions which are not reassuring. In front, nearly 
 three miles away, I saw with the aid of my glasses 
 that the heavy covers of thorn, furze, heath, and 
 scrub undergrowth, which when I first knew the 
 district had never been touched save for firewood, 
 were parcelled out in squares by wide shooting rides.
 
 5n Susses. 123 
 
 Rustic history, recorded by one who knew the 
 forest well, told of some dangerous places covered 
 with brush. " A feller could drap in middlin' quick 
 where them 'ere old iron gitters had bin a-workin'," 
 they said. As this ground has changed owners, 
 probably the old iron pits have been filled up. 
 Very likely some of the dangers talked of were 
 more or less fictitious ones, for it is a well-known 
 fact openly talked about at the present time 
 that the contraband brotherhood at one time held 
 this district under an iron rule. 
 
 Old rangers of the forest, and the old retainers of 
 once noble mansions bitterly deplore the modern 
 changes that have completely wrecked them ; quite 
 enough of this is said in Surrey, but far more in 
 Sussex. When the news reached some of them 
 that the estate they had lived on " for years and 
 years," as they phrased it, that is, from one genera- 
 tion to another, was going to be sold, and the house, 
 their pride and glory the " Big House," rightly so 
 named, was going to be sold too they were com- 
 pletely stunned, and wandered aimlessly up and 
 down, not being able to settle down to anything. 
 Some of the motherly dames suffered terribly, for 
 all sorts of convenient corners and cupboards were 
 in those fine old cottages, or rather houses, with
 
 124 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 large sheds thatched with chips, heath, or reeds, 
 dose to the house in the large garden. 
 
 " Where in the world, father, shall us be able to 
 place my dresser an' your clock ? 'Twill break me 
 up, this 'ere set out will ; I can't believe it, it do 
 seem so onnateral. Neither on us would 'a bin 
 about much longer, for we be well over our 'lotted 
 span, as the Book tells us on. But this 'ere has 
 cum on us like a thunder-clap. 'Twas mother's 
 dresser, an' I have prided myself on it. There ain't 
 a bit o' furniture up at the House as is better 
 polished, though I says it, an' it is all hand-rubbed." 
 
 " Ah, dame, 'tis a terrible clip like. Look at 
 that 'ere clock o' mine ; it hav' ticked time out and 
 time in fur my father dead and gone, and so it hav' 
 fur me an' all on us, but 'twill niver keep time ag'in 
 as it hev done, if we be 'bliged to move frum here. 
 'Twill kill the clock. IVe knowed fambly clocks 
 killed afore now by movin'. Tis heart-breakin' 
 to think on it. Them 'ere places as they runs up 
 now, an' calls cottages, ain't much better nor bigger 
 'an rabbit hutches, an' the rent is most 'mengous. 
 It wun't be fur long though." 
 
 And indeed, in less than a fortnight, this old 
 man and his aged wife died within a few hours of 
 each other, and were buried in one grave.
 
 5n Sussej. 125 
 
 What the county of Sussex must have been 
 centuries back, we can only gather from reference 
 to those old records, which were accurate in the 
 most minute details so far as property is concerned. 
 Not a wood, lake, mere, mill or water-course 
 escaped the inventories of our conquerors, and they 
 were most generous in giving away other people's 
 property after having thrashed them out of it. 
 
 The thought crosses us, in looking over these 
 varied scenes, how many poor hunted creatures 
 have been maimed for life under the cruel forest 
 laws framed by that king who loved the great red 
 deer as his brothers, and guarded the hares so that 
 they might run free. Yet the people were hunted 
 down for killing their own deer, and for snaring 
 fowl or pike from lake, mere, or stream. 
 
 The cutting down of vast quantities of wood for 
 smelting purposes and ironworking opened up some 
 parts of this forest land in fact, thinned it out. 
 The deer, wolves, badgers, foxes, martens, and 
 foumarts or polecats, must have winked and blinked 
 at night as they crossed the clearings by the light of 
 the furnace fires. I am not the least particular 
 where I go, over rough country, either by day or 
 night, and the time has been when I would go just 
 as fancy led, but only stern necessity would induce
 
 126 Brift from Xonosbore. 
 
 me to travel on that lonely closed-in road by those 
 old hammer ponds and their disused workings on a 
 dark night, even in this nineteenth century. 
 
 One night I missed my footing and soused into 
 the river, though I was going carefully and with all 
 my senses alert. Land and water get terribly 
 mixed at times. I got out somehow, and had to 
 walk six miles in wet clothes before reaching 
 home. 
 
 Once more we are on the higher part of the forest. 
 A wide road track runs over and through it, for the 
 turf has been taken off preparatory to making a 
 carriage-road from one end to the other ; great 
 patches have been broken up by the side of this new 
 road and planted with potatoes now ready to dig 
 up, the first cultivated crop ever known on that 
 ground. 
 
 On the new track, which will soon have carriage- 
 wheels over it, we see more wild life than we have 
 seen for years. The shyest creatures will leave 
 their haunts to feed and frolic on fresh-turned 
 ground. Sandy roads full of heather stumps are 
 tiring to walk over, seventeen miles have yet to be 
 covered before we reach home ; on we jog a couple 
 of miles, then we see something that stirs us to 
 anger and gives power to our feet to get out of it
 
 5n Sussex 127 
 
 all quickly. Right in the heart of the forest, on 
 one side of the new road, again a large board stares 
 us in the face, informing travellers that " the whole of 
 this highly picturesque and salubrious portion of the 
 forest will be sold in convenient plots for the erection 
 of large or small mansions to suit the convenience 
 of purchasers ". 
 
 " Doan't you tell me ; if they ain't a-doin' of it 
 now, it wun't be long afore they begins, I knows. 
 Rooks is varmin, an' jacks (jackdaws) ; so's yaffles, 
 fur they picks holes in the trees an' lets the wet in. 
 So's cuckoos, an' heave-jars, owl-hawks, an' all the 
 lot on 'em. As to them 'ere hawfinches, them big- 
 headed pea-scrunchers, I'd bust 'em. All as I kin 
 git a flick at I knocks over." And so the game has 
 been played some are playing at it now to the 
 best of their ability in holes and corners. When 
 certain creatures can be sold for a good figure, the 
 harm they are credited with doing is tremendous ; 
 41 dimenjous " our rustic called it. 
 
 Driven by force of circumstances, which ought 
 not to exist, fur, feather and fin even reptiles 
 are making their way to places, few and far between, 
 where for a time at least they can rest in peace. A 
 reaction may set in presently, with a stronger 
 current than will be agreeable in certain quarters ;
 
 128 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 for circumstances may crop up demanding the pre- 
 servation of our fauna, quite independently of the 
 Bird Act. 
 
 If you turn off the main road, into the most lonely 
 green road, you may come to one of the old tracks 
 still showing in Sussex, and follow it up-hill and 
 down returning often, you may fancy, on your 
 own track, covering in reality a mile or more of 
 " orkard twists" as the natives call them not a 
 sound will you hear except those that the birds may 
 make a chirp here and a chack there. Those small 
 sounds will not proceed from your side of the 
 high hedge or copse bank, and unless you are 
 ascending one of the hills, nothing can be seen but 
 the bank in front and on either side of you, so deep 
 are some of these old green roads. Then all at 
 once you gain the top of the hill, round which for a 
 long time you have been circling, and there below 
 you nestles one of those small quaint hamlets not 
 to be found except in the hollows of the South 
 Down hills. To look at it one would think that 
 peace had its head-quarters here, but there is always 
 something to mar perfection. The strife of tongues 
 has found its way there ; the landlord of the com- 
 fortable public informed me on parting : " the place 
 is quiet enough, an' all that there, but some on 'em
 
 3n Sussej. 129 
 
 is a bit cocked up and consaited, I tell 'ee, an' I 
 tells 'em, too, so I does ". 
 
 I have been making some notes during an un- 
 usually wet season. Drenched woods, sodden 
 moors, wet heaths, and mired up green roads are 
 the portion of those whose daily work or pleasure 
 takes them over hill and dale just now. Whether 
 it be man or boy at work in the fields or by the 
 hedges, the weather is the first topic with all, after 
 " passing the time of day ". 
 
 " I hopes as how you've left better weather 
 behind, where you comes from, 'an what we got 
 'bout here" a little Jeremiad this is from a rustic 
 I meet " Fur we be stodged up. It hev been a 
 most desprit wet time round these 'ere parts, enough 
 to give the ducks and geese footrot, let alone the 
 sheep. Look along them 'ere furrers, the water 
 in 'em is chock full. 'Tis stiff soil here in the clay. 
 'Twill be rare, I reckins, as I shell come acrost an 
 old hare squattin' on one on 'em. As to garden 
 stuff, 'tain't up to nothin'. Fruit ain't bin no good ; 
 what they hev got in an' put by wun't keep. An' 
 if these 'ere turmuts an' wuzzles ain't pulled and 
 happed up afore frostes cum, they'll be done fur. 
 
 " What do ye say ? You wants to git right up
 
 130 Drift from OLonosbore. 
 
 over the forest. Ye can't, leastways ye'll have to 
 goo back for a mile, an' hap it may be more. Fur 
 it be all flooded in the hollers, and all busted afore 
 it. Don't ye hear the roosh o' it over the road in 
 the holler ? A waggon an' four hosses would be 
 washed inter that 'ere Hell-pot tumblin' bay if they 
 tried to get over." The man was quite right in his 
 facts. There is a large lake here that had at one 
 time supplied the water power for one of the largest 
 iron-works in Sussex, in Queen Elizabeth's time, 
 and as for the old tumbling bay, it well deserved 
 its title of Hell-pot. 
 
 The river Arun rises not far from Horsham ; 
 and the Moulsey, or, as it is now called, the Mole, 
 rises in Tilgate Forest, just within the borders of 
 Sussex. If ever any river had a name bestowed 
 on it that was appropriate it is the River Mole. 
 Like those of the animal it derives its name from, 
 some of its movements are of a baffling and deceptive 
 character, and like the mole the river passes, from 
 a state of innocent quietness, into one of ungovern- 
 able fury at the shortest notice. It is a river to 
 wander by for days and nights in the bright sum- 
 mer time and in the early fall when for a brief 
 space all nature is hushed in the soft Indian sum- 
 mer that precedes the first days of autumn. Rush-
 
 5n Sussex 131 
 
 ing over stones and pebbles, it forms pools and 
 shallows, and anon long reaches, to fall again into 
 quiet lakelets ; woodland mirrors these. When lit 
 up by the sun the great trees on the banks are 
 reflected in them as in some huge looking-glass. 
 It is not often the angler wets his line in! these bits 
 of water, for the banks are not safe. The otters 
 can have the pike that lie there and welcome. 
 
 In summer time you may see the dry bed of the 
 river for fifty, and in some seasons for 100 yards, 
 nothing but stones, sand, and the submerged trunks 
 of trees firmly fixed in the shingle. Then again 
 you will see the water springing up from some- 
 where, running along as merrily as it did before. 
 
 If a man can read even the ABC of nature's 
 primer, he may spell out whole pages from the book 
 of nature in carefully examining the prints left in 
 the moist sand around the edges of those sullen 
 pools by the feet of some of nature's furred and 
 feathered children. 
 
 In the course of the night, or in the grey of the 
 morning they have visited the deep pools ; the fox, 
 otter, badger, stoat, and stoat kittens, as well as rats 
 and mice, for these get thirsty like other creatures. 
 Also herons, moorhens, sandpipers, and some mem- 
 bers of the duck family ; there are their signs plain
 
 132 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 enough ; you see where the otter has left the water 
 with a large bream ; it is easily traced out, for the 
 fish was a large one and scales at intervals are seen 
 on the stones where he dragged the fish over them. 
 Looking over the fern-sprinkled turf we soon come 
 on the remains of that brown-coated fisher's meal. 
 He could not have been very hungry, for beyond a 
 few mouthfuls from the shoulders and a bite near 
 the tail, there remain a good four pounds of coarse 
 fish to be converted into gentles, if other creatures 
 do not eat it. Some stray feathers, and one of the 
 beautiful feet of a moorhen that has been bitten off r 
 tell us all we require to know about Master Rey- 
 nard's proceedings. Some of the creatures go there 
 either to get food or drink, and come away again 
 all right ; others do not. So quiet are some parts 
 of this woodland river, and so little visited even 
 now, that the otter can be seen fishing or at play ; 
 and the fox will stop to look at you as he passes by. 
 Kingfishers you will see all the day long passing 
 up or down, or fishing, for they nest in holes in the 
 steep banks ; sometimes they have perched to fish 
 on a twig so close to us that we could have touched 
 them with the first joint of the rod we hold. Once 
 a dweller in the river's bank came so close to where 
 I had hidden up for purposes of observation that
 
 3n Susses, 133 
 
 I quietly asked it "What it was doing there". 
 Instantly the creature's ears were directed towards 
 the sound and its keen eyes met mine ; then it 
 vanished. 
 
 When the warm river vapours hang over the 
 shallows just before the sun is fairly over the hills 
 is the time to see large fish feed and to catch some 
 of them. Sprit sprit sprit sprit sprit sprit ! 
 and a shower of willow-blades bleak throw them- 
 selves out of the water ; for a good trout is filling 
 himself up to the gullet with them. Lower down, 
 just off the mouth of the shallow, pike and perch 
 are feeding. They rush and cut in all directions. 
 If there is one insect that I dislike next to " stoat 
 flies" and midges, it is the dor-beetle or dor- 
 clock ; for he goes booming about like any hornet 
 all over the place. If you are engaged about any 
 matter such as my old fishing friend, Billy, used to 
 call " precious extra perticklar," this black boomer 
 will manage to fly up and hit you in the face. 
 
 Very peaceful and beautiful is the burrowing 
 Mole in fair weather ; but three days' rain will flush 
 it bank high, and the people that live in the fields 
 joining the river and along its banks will rue the 
 havoc made for some time to come yet. One other 
 such wet season I remember full well.
 
 134 2>rift from Xonasbore. 
 
 A bad October, and torrents of rain in November 
 brought matters to a climax. For weeks the river 
 had been more or less in flood, but not enough to 
 cause serious apprehension. On the I2th the water 
 from the clay lands, drained by trout streams and 
 rills, spread out over the land ; and to make matters 
 far worse the hills were sending down vast volumes 
 of water on either side, bayed back for miles. On 
 the 1 3th, about two o'clock in the morning, when 
 the moon was shining brightly enough for me to- 
 write some notes, the river broke all bounds and 
 rushed out all over. 
 
 The mills, cottages, gardens, and fields were all 
 flooded in and flooded out, and when the moon 
 went down, the high part of the main road was the 
 only safe place where you could listen to the roar 
 and rush of it all. 
 
 Daylight showed what one of the villagers called 
 " ructious damage ". Some of the women folk were 
 seriously alarmed, for the swirling waters were lap- 
 ping their door sills. One elderly native informed 
 me that " if some on 'em kept a-chouterin' an' a- 
 clackin' like a lot o' skeered hens, they'd git 'stericky ^ 
 There waun't no fear o' their being drownded jist 
 yit, however ; they could go upstairs and look out 
 o' their winders."
 
 3n Sussej. 135 
 
 The owners of boats on the river, some of them 
 good stout ship boats, had hauled them up on their 
 lawns far out of flood mark, as they thought, and 
 secured them to tree stems. When they looked out 
 in the morning the boats were gone. Some of the 
 people had been up all night ; in fact it would have 
 been a difficult matter for some of them to have 
 slept, penned in as they were ; all that they could 
 do was to shout out questions and answers to each 
 other across the rushing river. 
 
 " Look, oh fur dear marcy's sake look, 'tis a boat 
 acomin' down, and all in her drownded. It's turned 
 right over ; see 'tis floatin 1 bottom uppards. Dead, 
 poor souls, all on 'em." 
 
 "Do ye think," chipped in the goodman, "as 
 anybody would be fool enough to git in a boat in 
 such ructions ? " 
 
 "You unfeelin' old warmint, here cums one o' 
 the poor souls as was in her," exclaimed a very sour 
 complexioned dame close by. " A poor young 
 feller ; poor soul, look here's his dark head o' hair 
 jist popped up, I can't look no longer. Tis real 
 heart-breakin' ! " 
 
 " Go in, an' git yer specks, Betsy, an' wipe 'em 
 well so as ye can see clear. I niver see a poor young 
 drownded feller as iver had got four feet on him ;
 
 136 Drift from Xongsbore* 
 
 'tis only a dead black-faced ship, and here cums 
 two more." 
 
 One man who had his horse ready saddled to 
 come to Dorking, said, " I'll see her take the weir 
 and the bridge ; for she's a good boat and will take 
 a lot of banging about ". She rose at the weir like 
 a live thing, three parts out of the water, before her 
 bows plunged into the weir race. Then she turtled, 
 and went down the river, sides and ends up. He 
 never saw the wreck at the bridge; to his eager 
 question: "Has she gone through? "was shouted 
 back, " Yes, knocked all to pieces ". 
 
 As soon as I could get there, I looked at the 
 wreck that had somehow hung in the timbers of 
 the bridge that spans the mill pool. She was split 
 from stem to stern as cleanly as if some one had cut 
 her down with a felling axe. As to her sides, they 
 were only fit for firewood. A boat, or we should 
 say part of one, the bow of much lighter make, 
 was by the side of her, and two very mournful - 
 looking objects they were. 
 
 No lives were lost that time, I believe, although 
 some folks had very narrow escapes. Wild creatures 
 had a rough time of it ; for a flood upsets them 
 quite as much as it does humans, the wild things 
 being for a time homeless. The otter, brave and
 
 5n Susses. 137 
 
 wise river-fisher that he is, leaves his temporary 
 home and comes down the fields to the very edge 
 of the flood line, blowing, whistling, and chattering 
 in the moonlight, to try and get together his mate 
 and three - parts - grown kittens ; for the young 
 ones are all abroad for a long time, if they get 
 away from their parents. They are most affec- 
 tionate creatures, with a fine set of the whitest 
 teeth ; nothing would induce me to shoot or trap 
 one. 
 
 The badger, as usual, comes to grief ; his haunts 
 now are in the same localities as they were when 
 we first knew him years ago at the bottom of 
 chalk hills, where the earth masses have been riven 
 by the fall of giant trees. When the river rises, his 
 earth on the bank and that of his neighbour the 
 fox are several feet under water. So he wanders 
 into the garden close by the river just above the 
 water-line for food Jerusalem artichokes presum- 
 ably ; also for any small deer that have taken 
 refuge among the crops. 
 
 Be this as it may, the poor beast is seen, chased, 
 and killed, being hit on the snout with a hoe- 
 handle. There was no help for it : the thing was 
 done, and as usual, I was asked to look at it. 
 Then it passed into the hands of a. friend of mine,
 
 138 2>rift from Xoncjsbore. 
 
 who remarked : " Let me think a bit. I have 
 heard you say badgers are good to eat." 
 
 " So they are," I replied, " and I never ask 
 people to sample any creature that I have not 
 sampled myself." 
 
 " All right : after I have taken his jacket off I 
 must set him up I am going in for badger meat.'" 
 
 And he did, fore-quarters, chops, and hams were 
 all served up at his table, until there was not a 
 particle left. The last time I saw him he told me 
 that he firmly believed in " brocks," and that it was 
 a very good thing for the badger family that others 
 did not. 
 
 The rabbits that burrow in all directions along 
 the banks of the river and dot about under the net- 
 work of tree-roots close to the water's edge have 
 been sadly put to it for lodgings. Hollow trees, 
 tufts of torey grass, hedgerows, and the vicinity of 
 corn-stacks in the fields have been freely visited. 
 The Englishman's belief that his house is his castle 
 is shared by Mr. Drummer and his relatives ; for 
 the river-bank drummers are not on visiting terms 
 with the drummers of the upland fields ; indeed 
 their views on the over-crowding of dwelling-places 
 would please the strict sanitary officers. Otters, 
 badgers, foxes, stoats, weasels, and rats are neces-
 
 139 
 
 sary evils that they have to meet or get away from 
 the best way that they can, but they take care not 
 to suffer from foreign visitors of their own species. 
 So numerous are these homeless rabbits that I saw 
 a rabbit-killer, with only a ferret and his gun, shoot 
 as many as he could carry in a very short time. A 
 thinning out like this does good, for they are so 
 numerous in some places close to us as to become 
 a great nuisance. 
 
 I pitied the harmless voles the water-rats, so 
 called for the poor things look wretched, thor- 
 oughly washed out, and half-drowned. Living as 
 they do on the leaves, stems, and roots of some 
 aquatic plants, their food supply has been under 
 water. There has not been much whisker-stroking 
 and fur-combing or face-washing with them lately, 
 and from all that could be seen it looked as if they 
 were putting that business off for a better time. 
 
 Bird-life has been singularly affected this season ; 
 and why it has been so hard to find is a matter 
 beyond my comprehension. Rare visitors one does 
 not expect to see, they are welcome sights, but 
 even the ordinary species that frequent our woods, 
 fields and hedges have been comparatively scarce 
 lately ; we have seen them certainly, but in greatly 
 diminished numbers. Whether -it is that their
 
 140 Brlft from Xonasbore. 
 
 acute faculties tell them that a certain range of 
 country will be seriously disturbed by storms and 
 heavy rain-falls and they for a time desert their 
 usual haunts for others where the weather cannot 
 affect them, who can say ? There is a mystery 
 about bird movements that has never been ex- 
 plained yet, and never will be, for it is impossible 
 to follow them. Some of their important move- 
 ments take place in the night. More real informa- 
 tion about birds has come to the front of late years 
 than was known before, but the field naturalist of 
 the future we think may be able to add much 
 more to it. 
 
 With the exception of a few moorhens taking 
 shelter in the hedges, and of one or two that are 
 perched on the trees in the thickets ; [also some 
 tits, nuthatches, and yaffles, and the irrepressible 
 sparrows, no bird can be noted by the river. Even 
 the rooks have had to fly far to feed on the dry 
 slopes of the upland pastures facing the south. 
 
 Flood time creates a feeling of general depression 
 which affects all creatures more or less ; for they 
 have their favourite grounds and homes that no- 
 thing but cruel and wanton extermination will 
 ever cause them to forsake, and these are by the 
 river side. Dire are the shifts and expedients to
 
 3n Sussex. 141 
 
 which the furred and feathered creatures are put 
 by a flooded river. 
 
 Hanging in front of me by a leather thong is a 
 cow's horn, polished by long and constant use, for 
 the friend who placed it in my hands as a parting 
 gift had never moved abroad without it. There is 
 not much to admire in the short, curved, white horn, 
 veined with grey and tipped with black, but some 
 stirring memories are aroused in me when I look up 
 at it, for the original owner and I once stood, side 
 by side, nearly surrounded by a ring of roaring fire. 
 
 So far as memory goes, it seems a matter of 
 almost yesterday, when that fine young forester, 
 my trusty friend through rough and smooth and 
 at times it was rough enough for any creature 
 sent a long wailing blast down the valley, to let the 
 others know that we could keep our post no longer. 
 
 At that time, and, to a certain extent, in some 
 districts up to the present day, different notes blown 
 tell those dwelling wide apart if all is well or the 
 reverse ; a perfect code of signals can be sounded 
 on the horns. I will try to explain from what I 
 have seen and heard when I lived with these forest 
 folk why this custom has been followed from the 
 earliest time.
 
 142 Drift from 
 
 The various purposes these horns were used for 
 would surprise some who had never moved far from 
 towns. For the natives of the soil made powder 
 and shot horns, fixing the wooden disc at the 
 bottom in such a manner that it never moved after- 
 wards. Drenching horns, and drilling spoons also, 
 were shaped, and other small matters were improved 
 by having a few strips of horn applied to them. A 
 stout yew bow, for instance, if it required more 
 power to it, would have some strips bound on in 
 the most clever manner, with fine lashings of raw 
 wet hide ; when this contracted in drying " it was 
 there fur iver and a day," as they phrased it. Some 
 large tanneries existed in full working order in out- 
 of-the-way places in and about the weald, and thus 
 horns and fine hide lashings were easily procured. 
 
 As they were taught the art of horn -bio wing from 
 childhood, no wonder that the foresters were pro- 
 ficients in it. But the boys' cheerful toot, toot, 
 toot, toot-e-e-toot-e-toot-toot-toot-e-toot, as they 
 passed on their way in the early morning, and when 
 they returned home at night, also the short, sharp 
 blast, that they used as a signal for play on the 
 village green, were alone allowed to the boys ; not 
 one of these would have dared to blow a note like 
 those used by his father and elder brothers.
 
 5n Susses. 143 
 
 A youth of my acquaintance who must have had 
 a soul for music, worked the cap off one of his 
 grandmother's worn out brass thimbles and fixed 
 it on his tooting weapon. This addition altered 
 the tone considerably, causing the lad's father great 
 uneasiness ; he said he'd " heerd fur sum time a furrin 
 soundin' horn a-blowin' ". As the youngster was 
 not working with his father, the " furrin " tooting 
 went on for some time. 
 
 One unlucky evening the mystery was solved to 
 the perfect satisfaction of the stern parent, who saw 
 his son bring his horn out and heard him blow it 
 Calling him into the woodhouse where the " ash- 
 plant-ile" suckers were kept, he told him " thet he 
 reckined there wus a heap o' wanity wanted 
 takin' out on him, an' he'd do it ". From the look 
 of the lad when he was let out it seemed as though 
 vanity and he had parted company for ever. Just 
 to let him know, however, that he still felt kindly 
 towards him, his parent told him, " he'd like to hear 
 him toot a bit, now that 'ere fancy top was off, if so 
 be as he'd got wind enough ter do it ". 
 
 These were harsh measures, some readers may 
 think, but they were necessary, for a false note 
 blown at any time would upset whole hamlets, no 
 one knowing at first whose place or stock might be
 
 144 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 in danger ; and that long-drawn howling blast, only 
 heard when the forest is on fire, causes men, lads, 
 and boys to cast down their tools and rush off to 
 the quarter whence the signal came. 
 
 Wild creatures are not alarmed by horn-blowing, 
 for the cattle out at feed are continually calling to 
 each other more or less throughout the day, and 
 sometimes under exceptional circumstances at night. 
 The blast from a fox-hunter's horn can never be 
 mistaken, there is a metallic ring in it that a cow's 
 horn never has. 
 
 More than once have I been roused from sleep by 
 the howling of horns, heard at intervals above the 
 moaning of the firs whose branches almost touched 
 my bedroom window. I knew what to expect, for 
 a rush of footsteps could be heard coming over the 
 moor-turf, and a well-known voice would shout, 
 " Now then, out ye cums ! there's summut as will 
 mek ye feel as if you wus a-livin' ". And out I 
 would go, to return parched, scorched and torn in 
 the early morning when the owls were quartering 
 their last beats ; and my friend would observe, " you 
 do feel alive and kicking ". 
 
 One lonely woman, who lived by herself in a 
 sheltered cottage in one of the numerous hollows 
 under the woods, knew the meaning of the different
 
 3n Susses. 145 
 
 notes quite as well as the men who blew them. Rustic 
 tradition, and, as usual, rustic tradition was quite 
 right in the main, said " thet she knowed the fambly 
 hisfry of a rare famous house, an' hed bin pensioned 
 off like " ; but why she had chosen that secluded 
 spot to pass the last days of her life in was known 
 only to herself. Nature had bestowed on her one of 
 those iron constitutions that age apparently affects 
 but little ; and when she passed away suddenly, 
 after seeing eighty-six years come and go, her tall 
 figure had no stoop in it, and her eyes flashed bright 
 and commanding to the last. 
 
 The most daring leader of a lawless crew, who 
 once lived near her, would slink by her garden gate, 
 if he were obliged to pass that way, like a lashed 
 hound ; for she had once looked him full in the face 
 and cowed him. She was credited too with for- 
 bidden power and "the passing of hands" by some 
 of the ignorant dwellers near her. That she had 
 in the course of a varied life, and she had travelled, 
 gained a very keen insight into human nature soon 
 made itself evident to those who at rare intervals 
 came in contact with her. Her power of insight 
 was so very penetrating in certain directions, and 
 her forecasts as to the ultimate fate of certain evil- 
 doers had proved so true, that at last she was uni- 
 10
 
 146 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 versally credited with the gifts of foretelling and of 
 " the passing of hands," now called hypnotism ; this 
 latter power is as old as the hills and it has been 
 used in its varied forms in rural districts at times 
 for good purposes. 
 
 Some, and they had reason for it, dreaded her so 
 much that even when primed with drink they would 
 not pass her cottage after dark ; others in extremity 
 sought her as a friend and found her such. I have 
 tramped, for many a long day, beside a man who 
 sought her aid and profited by it, but it is only 
 recently, and by accident, that I have heard the 
 full particulars from one competent to give them. 
 I will present them to my readers in my infor- 
 mant's own words. He spoke of one well-known 
 to us. 
 
 " One day, he cums tu me, an' he says, ' Charley, 
 I wants tu hev a word with ye, fur I be regular 
 cornered.' 
 
 " ' All right, out with it, Davy.' 
 
 " ' Well, I bin fool enough tu git in the squire's 
 covers with sum o' that 'ere shet [crew] ; an' 'cos I 
 told 'em I waunt a-goin' there no more, they says 
 as they'll blow on me. . . . An' poor old father an' 
 mother will git turned out ye see, fur we lives under 
 the squire. I bin a fool, an- wuss, to git hanked in
 
 5n Sussex 147 
 
 with sich a lot o' varmints, but it all cum about 
 afore I knowed where I was.' 
 
 " ' Well, Davy, you take my advice, and go arter 
 ye hev left off work to her what lives under the 
 hill.' 
 
 " ' An' you tells me fur to go there ; why ? ' 
 
 " Then I tells him I bin there once on my own 
 hook. There waunt much as could daunt him, I 
 knowed ; but he was 'most afeered to go. But he 
 did go, mind ye, an' this is what he tells me arter- 
 wards. 
 
 " ' When I got near her house I could feel the 
 cold sweat o' fear on my face, fur I'd heerd sum o' 
 thet 'ere shet say as how she could fix ye like a 
 moor-stone, if so be she'd a mind. I jist got in sich 
 a wax as my legs began to totter, an' I gripped 
 hold on her fence. Then I hears her say, close to 
 me, jist as kind as poor mother could ha' said it, 
 " Come in, my poor lad, come in ". Thet 'ere did it, 
 fur no matter what she'd ha' told me to arter thet, 
 I sh'uld ha' done it. So there an' then I up an' 
 tells her all. When she looked at ye, if so be as 
 ye wanted to, ye could no more ha' thought o' 
 telling a lie than ye would o' flying. 
 
 "'Arter looking me through and through, she 
 says, " Now take heed to what I tell you. Go from
 
 148 Drift from Xonosbore. 
 
 here and mend your ways. The time will come 
 when the longing for the hills and woods will force 
 you for a short time to return ; for it is born in you ; 
 then you will leave them for the last time to return 
 no more." ' 
 
 That her words in this man's case proved true to 
 the letter I can vouch for. The man died in his 
 prime. There is much that may by-and-by be ac- 
 cepted as a matter of science which has been an 
 open book from all time to some ; but to place a 
 certain kind of knowledge in the power of ordinary 
 people is very much like giving a monkey a box of 
 matches to frisk round an open barrel of gunpowder 
 with. Yet I am only touching on matters well 
 known to myself when I state openly that a certain 
 kind of knowledge, fortunately confined to a few, 
 and used only at times for a good purpose, has not 
 died out with the dwellers under the hills that cast 
 their mighty shadows over the weald. It is green- 
 wood lore certainly, used at times by those who 
 know how to use it, and chiefly on animals ; yet if 
 I were to write about what I have seen in that way 
 I should be rated as a Munchausen. 
 
 It is a notorious fact, fortunately known to only 
 a few aged men now living in a certain district of 
 the weald border which shall not be mentioned
 
 5n Sussex 149 
 
 for excellent reasons that one blast on the horn 
 blown from a certain hill would once, in less than 
 one half hour, bring together nearly 100 men, from 
 dells and hollows where they lived completely out 
 of sight of any chance travellers. I need scarcely 
 say that this gathering not only could, but did, re- 
 sist most effectively the feeble authorities of those 
 days. 
 
 When the time came at last for the old order to 
 give way to the new, the very men who had looked 
 with such loving eyes on game that they felt com- 
 pelled to have it, suddenly directed all their 
 energies to honest labour and they were eagerly 
 sought for in fact the demand exceeded the supply. 
 Steady, quiet, good workmen they proved to be, 
 using their brains as well as their hands ; and, best 
 of all, they were thoroughly to be trusted. 
 
 The wooded districts of the wealds were favourite 
 hunting-grounds in the days of our early conquerors, 
 and the natives of the soil have certain hereditary 
 proclivities which still mark them as a distinct class. 
 Broad-shouldered, stalwart men they are, with 
 ruddy faces and clear grey eyes, these merry horn- 
 blowers of the weald.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UPLAND FIELDS. 
 
 SHOWERS have fallen in the night, the dawn 
 brought soft winds and bright sunshine ; it is a per- 
 fect April morning. The hawthorn blossoms have 
 opened out in favourable nooks and corners ; 
 the wheat, rye, clover, and all those plants or 
 weeds as we call them that grow up with the 
 crops in spite of all modern agricultural improve- 
 ments, are flourishing fresh and fair. It is one of 
 the balmy mornings when you fancy that you can 
 see things grow. 
 
 From the woods, copses and double banked 
 hedges which surround these large cultivated tracts, 
 one mighty song pours out from thousands of 
 feathered throats ; there is not a break or lull in it, 
 for if the singers which are near you consent for a 
 time to sing in a lower key, far away, in the soft purple 
 haze of the budding woodlands, you can hear the 
 harmony faintly from a distance. It is not on map 
 
 or guide-book, that ring of song, for a sort of " No 
 (150)
 
 Tllplanfc tfielfcs. isi 
 
 Man's Land " surrounds this great bird gathering, 
 mile after mile. Won from the woodlands in past 
 centuries, these vast upland fields still preserve all 
 their woodland characteristics of hill and dale. 
 
 Half-mile furrows require good ploughmen. The 
 nearest hamlet to these cultivated stretches is two 
 long lane miles away, and the nearest town is six; 
 so that those who cultivate them have few neigh- 
 bours. They who till the soil here, and gather in 
 the crops, are a sturdy self-contained race, and they 
 need to be; for through summer heat and winter cold 
 they have all thek work set out for them. The nut 
 hedges which part some of the fields from the tor- 
 tuous up and down lonely cart tracks, or roads, are 
 three " stams " deep ; that is, three lines of hazel 
 butts form the hedgerow, with the stout shoots or 
 suckers that spring from them ; ten and twelve feet 
 in height these are, and each one is straight enough 
 for a fishing rod. This method of trimming causes 
 the foliage on the top sprays to grow out, sunshade 
 fashion ; which is done not for the benefit of the 
 nuts, but for the convenience of working the hedges, 
 as rabbits and other creatures that have a weakness 
 for these have to be looked after at times. Alto- 
 gether, what with free root room, and any amount 
 of air and sun about the tops, the nuts on these
 
 152 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 suckers are larger and better flavoured than any 
 that can be found for miles. 
 
 The bold stormcock's time is now divided into 
 three almost equal portions ; one for singing, 
 one for feeding or procuring food for his precious 
 family, and during the third he is fighting. His 
 proceedings from dawn to sunset are if crows, 
 rooks, jackdaws and jays are about more or less 
 erratic, owing to his extremely combative nature. 
 Scores of times have I seen him knock the feathers 
 out of one or other of the birds mentioned, when it 
 has passed too close to his nest, or the young. Then 
 from the top twig of some tree he will pour out his 
 rich wild song, which rings out above all as clear as 
 the notes from a silver trumpet. Blackbirds and 
 thrushes are woodland choristers, but the stormcock 
 is the wild singer of the tree tops. 
 
 Larks are overhead in all directions, singing as 
 only they can sing, yet their music comes soft to the 
 ear ; so vast is the space above and below, that the 
 hosts that people the rookery, which are now flying 
 to and fro, cawing and chattering, and jake-jaking, 
 jackdaws being with the rooks, only sound as a 
 soft second to the principal singers. Peewits, par- 
 tridges and pipits are nesting in the same fields, 
 each one on the portion best suited to it. The
 
 mplanfc dftelfcs. 153 
 
 kestrel, wind-fanner or " stan'-gale hawk " stand 
 gale does, we know well, kill birds at times, for 
 it is only natural that he should. But just now it 
 would be a crime to shoot or trap him, indeed at 
 any time it would be a pity. No better vermin- 
 killer ever poised on wing than that mouse-hunter, 
 the kestrel falcon. 
 
 In the early spring, if the season has been warm, 
 we have seen more life in one upland grass field 
 than would be credited by many. Vipers, snakes, 
 slow-worms, toads and frogs, mice of all kinds, 
 lizards, efts and beetles, all are there in their ap- 
 pointed seasons, so are the creatures that feed on 
 them. 
 
 An old hedgerow that I visit and hunt about is 
 half a mile long and twelve feet high, the lowest 
 part of it being composed of black and white 
 thorns with other old-fashioned hedge growth, the 
 gnarled and twisted stems are like small trees. 
 This hedge parts one great upland field from a 
 mansion and a grey old church below, with one of 
 those peaceful God's Acres that are dotted here 
 and there in secluded out-of-the-way places. 
 
 The latter part of the year 1894 and the early 
 part of 1895 were periods remarkable for the 
 scarcity of feathered life, yet I have never at any
 
 154 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 time seen such a profusion of bird provender as in 
 the year 1894. The trees and bushes were covered 
 with berries and fruit, but no winter visitors came 
 to feed on them. " Service," white-leaf, mountain- 
 ash berries, bullace, pickets, sloes, acorns, beech- 
 mast all were there in vast abundance, waiting 
 for the birds that did not come. The open 
 weather we had up to Christmas and beyond 
 it, may have had much to do in the matter ; the 
 migrants' provender may have lasted out longer 
 in their other homes. One great common, covered 
 with fine holly trees that were red with thick spikes 
 of berries, some of them clustered as thick as your 
 wrist, had not been visited that winter, before 
 February of 1895. This statement not only 
 applies to woodland visitors but also to the swim- 
 mers and waders in certain localities. Still fowl 
 did reach me, perfect in plumage, which had been 
 simply killed by rough weather. I then tramped 
 twelve miles, all to no purpose, over places that 
 the snipe are supposed to frequent, and when some 
 were found at last, one wisp was sheltered under 
 thick hollies on the top of a dry hill, just the spot 
 to look for a woodcock in, the other close to a 
 main road and large farm that was supplied from 
 warm springs, springs that the hardest weather
 
 ffielfcs. iss 
 
 does not freeze up, so that in summer or winter 
 the water for the house and stock never fails. One 
 large pond, in a very secluded situation, which is 
 supplied by a number of great springs that look 
 like small funnel-shaped pits, with a profuse 
 growth of aquatic plants in its clear waters, is not 
 visited by strange fowl. The birds that do frequent 
 that pond, ducks, swans, coots, moorhens and grebes, 
 have, through the kind protection afforded them, 
 become slightly conservative, they seem not to 
 take kindly to strangers or their ways, in fact more 
 than once I have known them move strangers off 
 their water in a very determined fashion. That 
 strange fowl sometimes drop on the water at night 
 there is not the least doubt, for as you pass by it 
 after dark you will hear sullen fluf-pluf-flops from 
 those who procure their food by diving for it, or 
 they dive to escape when danger threatens them ; 
 and the sharp swish of wings from the surface feed- 
 ing ducks as they rise. These are strangers ; it is 
 as easy to tell by listening to their movements what 
 manner of birds are on that water at night as it is 
 in the daytime. To return to the ancient hedge 
 afore-mentioned. It is when the sun shines warm 
 on one side in the morning and the other in the 
 afternoon that life stirs above and below, the whole
 
 156 Brift from Xoncjsbore. 
 
 length and breadth of it. When little toddlers 
 under the care of larger children pick blue and 
 white violets, and all the greenery of the hedge is 
 fairly moving, then is the time to see how much 
 life has been and is still sheltered there. Jays, 
 shrikes, blackbirds, thrushes, bullfinches, greenfinches, 
 chaffinches and hawfinches, a pair or two all nest 
 there, comparatively safe from harm ; also those 
 grey and brown singers the hedge-sparrows. It is 
 a peaceful-looking spot, but perfect peace does not 
 exist in that old sanctuary, for living things, 
 more than in any other place. One sees many a 
 little comedy and tragedy acted there. When a 
 warm shower has fallen, to be followed by brilliant 
 sunshine, then is the time when all creatures rejoice, 
 in the boughs above or at the feet of the root stems 
 below. Very few people concern themselves much 
 about frogs, but one that lives and gets his living 
 from any old hedge bottom is well worth your notice. 
 There is deliberate method in all his movements, 
 except when he is taking kangaroo-like leaps when 
 frightened. Insect life, mature and immature, 
 shelters itself under the leaves or the rank grass 
 blades, there to remain until the sun has dried all 
 up again. This is froggy's hunting time. Very 
 deliberately he makes his way under the leaves and
 
 Zflplanfc jfielfcs. is? 
 
 grass blades, his beautiful eyes opened to their full 
 extent, looking out for food. Something takes his 
 attention and he comes to a full stop. There is his 
 head with its bright eyes ; crouching down we see 
 that it is a caterpillar that he is looking at so 
 intently. As we look, the crawler vanishes from 
 the grass blade like magic ; he has been flicked into 
 the frog's mouth by his wonderful tongue. Unfor- 
 tunately for himself, when he is in good condition, 
 other creatures love him dearly. The harmless and 
 handsome common snake is a very great frog-eater 
 and I have at times heard the frog bleat most 
 terribly when the snake has been chasing him, but 
 those sounds are soon over. When hedge hunting, 
 if you wish to see any creatures don't move about ; 
 get from one point to another from the field that 
 the hedge borders and stand perfectly still, so that 
 the blind mole so called will run like a rat by 
 the side of the hedge on one of his expeditions of 
 love or war, throwing his head up like a foxhound, 
 and, as he nears the toe of your boot, twisting his 
 nose about in all directions. Then off he scuttles 
 to the other side of you with a rapidity that is simply 
 marvellous. Stoats and weasels, the few that are 
 about, hunt for birds' nests, eggs or young, it does not 
 matter which, or the old birds if they can get them.
 
 158 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 Never place your hand in a bird's nest before 
 you know what is in it. Have you ever seen a 
 snake on the hunt for young squabs (birds just 
 hatched) the most delicious morsels that he is 
 acquainted with ; young mice not excepted ? The 
 creature simply glides without a rustle over the 
 twigs, feeling its way with its tongue ; for if there 
 is one moment's hesitation as to which will be the 
 best way for it to go, the tongue is moved with 
 extreme rapidity. I have kept both venomous 
 and harmless snakes, making pets of the harmless 
 ones. These when crawling over and about you 
 will examine all parts of your hands and face 
 with their tongues, in exactly the same manner as 
 they would feel objects when at liberty. 
 
 To judge from the direction the creature is mov- 
 ing in, a poor little hedge-sparrow's nest appears 
 to be his object. As the stuff is thorny we do not 
 take the trouble to see if it is tenanted, Master 
 Natrix will settle that matter for us if we keep 
 quiet. He has reached the nest, shoots his head 
 over it and makes a stroke at something, then we 
 see a young squab in his mouth. We upset him 
 for fun, not meaning to hurt him, but he hasn't 
 time to swallow his captive. We poke at him and 
 hustle him about, the squab is soon dropped and
 
 ffielfcs* 159 
 
 the way that he hisses and darts about is interesting. 
 He is doing his best to make for the bottom of the 
 hedge whilst we are doing all we can to prevent 
 it without injuring the reptile. But apparently he 
 or she judging from its size we should be inclined 
 to think that it belonged to the gentler sex uses 
 at last the only defence that nature has provided 
 the creature with, so far as man and animals are 
 concerned ; the whole hedge seems to be filled 
 with concentrated essence of snake abomination 
 and we fly from the spot. How long this hedge 
 will remain it is difficult to conjecture, for changes 
 come quickly, and what has existed from generation 
 to generation is at times moved suddenly from off 
 the earth, all traces of it being obliterated. At 
 different times all the fauna of a southern county 
 have sheltered here, water fowl excepted. Once, 
 indeed, dabchicks and moorhens it was a winter 
 well remembered by us left the river and the 
 mere close to it, and crept jfor shelter into holes 
 and root hollows, and they (were picked up half 
 dead from the hedge-tangle. What birds will do 
 and where they will go in time of drought or hard 
 weather for one is nearly as bad as the other 
 must be seen to be credited. One of my acquaint- 
 ances swept a bare place in a field to shoo* small
 
 160 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 birds, larks, finches and sparrows ; two snipes came 
 with them and got shot. 
 
 After the wheat, oat and barley crops have been 
 gathered in, the fields are visited by all the raptores 
 that migrate in that direction. They do not stay 
 long, a few days or it may be a week at the most,, 
 then they pass on. As thousands of small birds, 
 such as larks and finches, are feeding in the fields, 
 there is no lack of quarry for them. Rough-legged 
 and common buzzards, also the beautiful honey 
 buzzards visit here. That they are shot or trapped 
 when the chance offers goes without saying. As 
 the locality is noted for being the best land for 
 partridges in the county, this is not to be wondered 
 at. A game preserver's point of view and that of 
 the keepers whom he employs to look after the 
 game are naturally very different from that of a 
 wandering field naturalist. As one of them said 
 to me : " The sooner them big uns is gone or done 
 for the better, there's nothin' but a chow-row from 
 mornin' to night. Our head un says they must be 
 knocked over, an' the guv'nor he's got the same 
 tale. They can't git at 'em no more than we. It 
 ain't so much as what they ketches, tho' they tries 
 hard at it, as what they frightens off the fields ; it 
 spiles the shootin'. Them 'ere damned great things
 
 TTlplant) ffielfcs. iei 
 
 hovers an' swishes after the birds till at last the 
 coveys makes for the hedgeroos an' you has to git 
 'em out as if you wos beatin' for cocks. We ain't 
 had none o' them 'ere blue an' ring- tailed hawks 
 harriers 'bout here lately. They're reg'lar wus- 
 sers ; they kills 'em dead at one clip, an' takes 'em 
 out in the middle o' them big fields to eat 'em. 
 They ain't goin' to let you git near 'em, not they, 
 an' they wun't fly over a place where you kin hide. 
 I've tried to git at 'em but it all cum to nothin'. 
 Them 'ere blue hawks an' ring-tails would circum- 
 went the devil." 
 
 The nuts are almost ready to slip from their 
 tawny hoods, and a few leaves drift from off the 
 trees into the fields, the first signs that summer has 
 passed away. With the exception of the stubbles, 
 root crops alone remain in the ground. There is 
 a time when, as the rustics say in their homely 
 fashion, " you can smell the root crops growing ". 
 Those who have strolled through turnips or man- 
 golds with all their great leaves covered with dewy 
 bloom, will know what they mean. Any attempt 
 to place on paper the life-giving odours proceeding 
 from green leaves and mother earth is useless. 
 Here you may see the hare raise herself on her 
 
 haunches and cock her mobile ears at the sound 
 11
 
 162 Drift from Xon^sbore. 
 
 of rarely heard footsteps. The scuts of rabbits 
 show, as they dot to and fro over the narrow foot 
 track ; they are not nibbling either the roots or the 
 leaves that crown them, they are simply feeding 
 on the plants or weeds as they are called that 
 grow so plentifully between the root rows. Hard 
 weather alone drives these creatures to root gnaw- 
 ing. Mice are numerous in the fields, but as their 
 provender consists in part of seeds from the very 
 growths that the farmer does not like to see on his 
 ground if he can help it, the little nibblers are to 
 a certain extent his benefactors. Oberon's long- 
 tailed cattle the wood-mouse, bank-vole, field-vole 
 and the diminutive harvest-mouse are all of them 
 more or less seed gatherers for their winter's store. 
 I have seen them collect their provender by climb- 
 ing up the plants, and go to their holes with their 
 cheeks distended as if they had got the mumps. 
 Rats at times do more mischief in allotment gardens 
 than all the hares and rabbits in the district that 
 they may claim to be in. As some of these gardens 
 are surrounded by woods where game is preserved 
 for several gentlemen in Surrey, well known to 
 myself, have been kind enough to place ground at 
 the disposal of the tenants on their estates the de- 
 predations committed by the rats are easily seen.
 
 dplant> jfiel&s, 163 
 
 Rats and larks in cottage gardens such as I have 
 mentioned, give the cultivators of them what they 
 call " hard beans ". The rats gnaw into the succu- 
 lent stalks of cauliflowers, kail, brussels-sprouts and 
 savoys, the result being that the stems break off 
 and the plants rot on the ground. As to the larks, 
 they simply pick out all the tender parts from the 
 leaves ; and so cleanly is it done that the leaf fibres 
 form skeleton leaves. There is not the least mis- 
 take about it, they pick at all green stuff that is 
 -on the ground in any gardens they may find out. 
 Directly in front of the window of the room I am 
 writing in is the garden of a noble mansion. For 
 weeks one of the men employed there has shot all 
 day long, sometimes as fast as he could place the 
 cartridges in his double-barrelled breech-loader, at 
 the larks that have swarmed to that large garden 
 in order to procure green food ; and nearly all the 
 birds are foreign visitors. The rats that work such 
 havoc in the gardens are rouge-rats, huge creatures 
 as rats go, and, for rats, handsome fellows ; bright 
 shining reddish-brown on the back, pure white on 
 the belly. They have been for some good reason 
 forced to leave the general rat community, for their 
 own good and for the good of others, probably on 
 account of their ferocious cannibal propensities.
 
 164 Drift from Xon^sbore. 
 
 These great fellows live, like rabbits, in holes in the 
 hedges that surround the gardens. They are very 
 dangerous vermin when they visit the covers ; no 
 stoat or weasel is tried for more keenly by the 
 keepers than these rouge-rats. They have two 
 chambers to their dwelling-place, one is the sleep- 
 ing room, kept scrupulously clean for they are 
 extremely particular in this the other is the store- 
 room for food, and well stored as a rule it is. I 
 have known a pair of good ferrets to be half killed 
 by one of these long-tailed brutes. Only when the 
 parties concerned made a hole at the back of him, 
 in a line with the front one, and turned a fierce 
 polecat ferret of the first cross in behind him, did 
 he condescend to move from his fighting quarters. 
 Then he made a rush and fixed his cutting chisels 
 in the cheek of one of the gamest little fox-terriers 
 I have ever known. She did not let him hang 
 there long. That rat died game. Twenty inches 
 from the nose to the end of his tail, he measured. 
 A few weeks past, a little fellow only ten years 
 old, who has a strong leaning towards wild creatures,, 
 brought me one of the same kind that he had cap- 
 tured all by himself. It measured nineteen inches, 
 when he held it up in his small hands. The boy 
 is really a very little chap, but full of pluck. I
 
 Hlplanfc Jfielfcs. ies 
 
 asked him how he had managed to capture such 
 a creature without being bitten. With child-like 
 simplicity he answered : " I have caught some as 
 big as this before, and I know how to keep them 
 from biting my fingers". 
 
 Beautiful, beyond the power of pen to describe, 
 as these vast cultivated uplands and all that sur- 
 rounds them are in the bright spring time, in the 
 glorious summer and in the gorgeous fall season, 
 there is a reverse side to the picture. In dead hard 
 winter when people say that they are scarcely warm 
 in their sitting-rooms, those uplands are hard 
 places to live on. The narrow roads are blocked 
 completely by the drifts off the fields. Here, be- 
 fore the dims come on, you may see the fox slip 
 out of the cover you are standing by to stalk the 
 hares and rabbits that show like clods of earth on 
 the bare expanse of snow. It is not safe to be out 
 here when the night falls, although I have but 
 just returned from a late exploration. The net- 
 work of paths is so intricate, sometimes leading 
 to a lonely house, but more often out into a " No 
 Man's Land," that it is better to get into a main 
 road or track as soon as you can. Of all the places 
 we have as yet visited, none of them are so difficult 
 to travel over as these upland fields.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SOME TRAITS OF WILD LIFE. 
 
 THERE is no limit, practically, as to what birds will 
 or will not do when they are compelled to adapt 
 themselves to circumstances. The very common 
 house-sparrow is a case in point. In the course of 
 my business in November I had to visit a large 
 hunting lodge which had just been completed on a 
 gentleman's estate that was situated in a very wild 
 part of the country. The exterior was heavily 
 timbered ; the vergeboards, cross-beams and quarter- 
 ings were not only ornamental, but massive. Be- 
 hind this woodwork, where space permitted, the 
 sparrows had made their winter nests to sleep in,, 
 bringing all their materials, such as small straws, 
 hay and feathers, to line them with, from the farm 
 which was quite a mile distant from the lodge as 
 the crow flies. As I saw them begin to build their 
 sleeping quarters and also thoroughly examined 
 them when these were finished, I was not only 
 
 astonished, but also delighted at the little fellows" 
 (166)
 
 Some Urafts of TKatlo Xffe. 167 
 
 forethought. Master Phillip Chip-chip-chissick 
 does not stand alone in this matter, other birds 
 prepare for winter in much the same way. 
 
 The powers of mimicry possessed by birds are 
 almost beyond belief. Birds will, if they think it 
 necessary, place themselves against objects so much 
 like their own plumage that they seem actually to 
 melt away with your eyes full on them. Recently 
 I was watching some pheasants feeding out in the 
 beech woods ; the last year's leaves were thick be- 
 neath the trees, showing a rich warm brown. On 
 the top of these the leaves of the present autumn were 
 slowly falling, not in showers, but a few at a time, 
 showing rich orange and that dull golden green so pre- 
 valent in the fall ; and tufts of the richest dark green 
 moss were dotted about. As I looked, a splendid 
 cock pheasant stalked by, within a few yards of me. 
 He was glistening with purple, orange and green, the 
 white ring round his neck showing to perfection. 
 But something told him that a pair of eyes do not 
 belong to a beech bole, so he made a dead stop, 
 his head well up and one foot raised from the 
 ground. Then very gently the bird lowered until 
 he was stretched out, head, neck, body and tail, like 
 the end of a small bough with withered leaves on 
 it. The pheasant's head and neck were close to a
 
 168 H)rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 moss tuft, and the rest of him was lost in the richly 
 tinted leaves. How they do the thing is a mystery ; 
 there is not one moment's hesitation or searching 
 for a spot, the bird appears simply to sink into the 
 surroundings, and to become at will, for the time, 
 part and parcel of them. 
 
 Finches and buntings are lost to view when they 
 settle on a fallow field, and a freshly ploughed one 
 conceals them quite as well. Brightly as some of 
 them are marked, and in some instances very dis- 
 tinctly, their varied hues fall in with the ground, 
 the weeds they feed on and their seeds, so that 
 even the sparrow-hawk, keen as he is, misses them 
 at times. 
 
 The young of all birds, that follow their parents 
 directly they are hatched out, either land or water 
 birds, are adepts, from the moment of getting clear 
 of their shells, in concealment of a wonderful nature. 
 No better example can be seen in this way than 
 that shown by the young brood of the common 
 pheasant when just clear from their shells. I had 
 been out one day looking for reptiles, more par- 
 ticularly for sand lizards and slow-worms, but did 
 not happen to see one. I determined, although I 
 had had quite enough of it, to explore a warm 
 sandy lane, quite out of any beaten tracks, one
 
 Some traits of Wilo Xtfe. 169 
 
 which had not been visited by me for a long time, 
 just on the off chance of finding what I sought for 
 there. Walking slowly along, with my eyes on the 
 ground, when about half-way up the lane I heard 
 one or two low clucks, and, looking in the direction 
 the sounds came from, saw a hen pheasant running 
 right at me ; in fact the bird only stopped when 
 nearly close to me, stretched herself up with her 
 tail on the ground, softly clucked again, and then 
 quietly glided into the whortle bushes that covered 
 the low banks on either side of the sandy road. 
 " All right, old girl," was my first thought, " your 
 brood are out, not far off" ; and on I passed with 
 my eyes on the track as before. Some sand-stones 
 about the size of my fist were littered about the 
 old wheel ruts, striped as usual with dark lines on 
 their yellowish-grey groundwork of colouring, with 
 a few dead oak leaves, almost skeleton leaves, and 
 -a few dead twigs here and there. Quite by accident 
 a small piece of stone a little more regular in form, 
 and slightly more bright in colouring, caught my 
 eye, and, on stooping down to examine it more 
 closely, the supposed stone turned out to be a 
 young pheasant. There the little creature squatted, 
 close to a piece of real stone, without the least 
 movement ; even when my face was within a foot
 
 170 2>rfft from Xongsbore. 
 
 of it the mite never stirred. Once or twice it half 
 closed one of its eyes, and opened it again, that was 
 all. Walking back, and looking very carefully by 
 the side of the rut, I found some of the supposed 
 stones were a brace of pheasant chicks squatting 
 close to each other, only in different positions ; and 
 some of the dead leaves turned out to be single 
 chicks, wide apart from the others. Four times I 
 passed up and down by them, giving them a close 
 and minute examination, but not one of them 
 moved a muscle. Then I got into the cover to rest 
 and think a bit, and also to give the hen an oppor- 
 tunity of collecting her scattered brood. Very soon 
 she slipped, in the most quiet manner, out in the 
 road below her chicks, gave two soft clucks, and 
 the eight little fellows I had been looking at ran to- 
 her with surprising speed, followed by four more 
 which I had not seen, for they were all on one side 
 of the road, the sunny side of course. Now, out of 
 the eight so closely looked at, no two were exactly 
 alike as regards markings or shades of colouring. 
 They were all slightly different from each other ; 
 and this will be found to be the case in all furred or 
 feathered creatures. 
 
 If a fox is not able to slip through a wood or 
 cover without the bird finding him out, you may
 
 Some drafts of mtlo Xife. m 
 
 rest assured that you will not catch a glimpse of 
 him. But keep quite still for a time, after gliding 
 from tree to tree like a shadow. Feathered creatures 
 have the bump of investigation fully developed ; 
 they will shift away at first from any unusual sight 
 or sound, and then in the most quiet manner work 
 their way back through the trees in order to find 
 out the cause for their first alarm. Then is the 
 time for you to observe them ; they will gather 
 round and about you overhead, round the butt of 
 the tree you have stopped at, for a time. 
 
 Some people will upset a mile of a naturalist's 
 good hunting ground in five minutes, and see nothing 
 for their pains. A thorough acquaintance with at 
 least the first principles of woodcraft has to be gained 
 before you can hope to see certain creatures in their 
 own haunts. Sometimes, when I want for a time to 
 leave all traces of man's work behind, I visit a dark 
 fir wood on the crest of a hill that rises from two deep 
 wooded glades, where there are a few miles of primi- 
 tive nature, pure and simple. How far that wood 
 may run, I am not able to state, having only explored 
 parts of it. Three miles up hill and down I can 
 answer for, but it runs beyond that. Some parts of 
 it are comparatively open, others are so thick that 
 ven during a July noon a soft warm grey light is all
 
 172 Brift from Xonosbore. 
 
 around and about you, with the fragrant life-giving 
 soothing odours from the pillared aisles of fir trees. 
 Now and again gentle airs up above agitate the 
 needles and cause the firs to hum, they are con- 
 tinually whispering. Flashes of the brightest golden- 
 green light play about on the whortle shrubs below. 
 So strange and erratic are these, and so quickly do 
 they come and go, that you might compare them to 
 huge green lizards flitting about under the firs. What 
 there may be at times in that dimly lighted forest 
 sanctuary, in the form of wild life, one is not able to 
 state. Thick cover does not find favour as a rule 
 with any creatures ; they require room where they 
 can move freely, and look about them, for by their 
 own woodland logic they know well that if thick 
 cover will hide them from their foes, it will also hide 
 their foes from them. I am fairly conversant with 
 what one may come across in a ramble, in the way 
 of insect life, but I do not capture one of the 
 beautiful creatures, nor do I inform scientific collec- 
 tors save the mark where they can be found. I 
 can examine at my leisure, through a pair of power- 
 ful glasses, any sleeping beauties in the shape of 
 moths that are to be found on the trunks of the firs 
 the rare pine hawk moth is one of them (sphinx 
 pinastri}. Whortle berries grow here in profusion,
 
 Some drafts of Wilo %ife. 173 
 
 and they are quite as large as fine black currants. 
 So thickly cropped are the waxen-leaved bushes 
 that if you incautiously sat down to rest in them 
 you would rise up again with many a stain on your 
 garments. 
 
 The woodcock comes here to feed on soft 
 luscious insect life in its varied stages, and he does 
 well on it. Like the fern-owl that shares the same 
 quiet range in the season, the woodcock squats on 
 bare places for purposes of concealment. One or 
 two stones on the patch of hungry white sand, a 
 few twigs and a tuft of dead heather, are enough 
 for him, and there he will hover, with his head well 
 in between his shoulders, and his flank feathers up 
 over his wings, fast asleep for hours, if not disturbed. 
 It is the unexpected glances of bird life that present 
 themselves at rare intervals, few and far between,, 
 that give you to a limited extent some of the crea- 
 tures' varied actions in their own wild habitat. You 
 have not been thinking about the bird, you have 
 only been moving with snail-like pace over the 
 thick carpet of dead fir needles ; there is not a breath 
 of air stirring, but something like a piece of paper 
 that had been soiled through being trampled on 
 rises from that bare patch, and before you can 
 think what it may be, with a whip-whip the cock is
 
 174 2>rift from Xonasbore. 
 
 up and off. When alarmed the bird throws his 
 tail up over his back like a fan. As a veteran 
 woodcock -shooter once said to me, " Put a cock up 
 three times, and there is no trail for toast ". Our 
 readers who shoot will know all about this. The 
 nearest acquaintance that ever I made with a red 
 viper, without picking him up, was in this very fir 
 wood. Without seeing it as it lay coiled up on the 
 red sandstone slab, I placed one of my feet just on 
 one side of it ; with amazing rapidity the creature 
 made three distinct strokes at the foot and then 
 shot off hissing like a little steam engine into the 
 cover. For quickness this small variety of the 
 common viper far exceeds the larger one, and the 
 worst of it is his bite is as dangerous as that of one 
 four times his size. 
 
 Owls give one something to think about. For 
 some time one white owl has in the early part of 
 the evening settled himself on the bough of a tree 
 that reaches low down over a well frequented road, 
 for all to see who pass that way, and no one 
 throws a stone at it. Not from love has he been 
 spared, but from a certain undefined fear that it 
 was not wise to meddle with him. I have heard in 
 past years, when living with folk who were full of 
 the mystic traditions of natural life, that the white
 
 Some Uraits of Wilb Xife. 175 
 
 owl under certain unholy conditions brought the 
 last summons to the dying. Another bird of the 
 same species, for reasons of its own, stood on the 
 ground at the roots of a decayed tree where the 
 white feathers on his breast showed out from the 
 grass and ferns like a sheet of note-paper. There is 
 not the least doubt that both birds had good reasons 
 for acting as they did, but such actions on their part 
 are quite out of the usual habits of the birds. 
 Owls are gifted creatures, having very weird ways 
 of their own ; but they certainly do give the lie to 
 some popular natural history of a certain moral 
 tone, which has been written by people who never 
 saw an owl in its haunt or kept one at liberty. 
 Most affectionate and intelligent pets they make. 
 
 In the heart of that deep fir wood you will not 
 see much wild life of any kind, but there is enough 
 and to spare, at times, just on the borders of it. On 
 a ragged, half dead old Scotch fir standing above a 
 deep hollow, a rift in the moor, I once saw a long- 
 eared owl put into practice all the self-preservation 
 tricks that he possessed. All tree trunks I narrowly 
 scan when in the woods, and any projection that 
 looks like a large witch knot (sic), or a branch broken 
 off close to the trunk, is at once brought under the 
 glasses. Black and white woodpeckers were what
 
 176 2>rift from OLonosbore. 
 
 I was looking for, but I unexpectedly saw some- 
 thing far better ; for about half way down the trunk 
 of the tree, on a dead snag, pressed as close to the 
 side of the tree as he could get, was our tufted ovvh 
 Stumbling over one of those half hidden sand- 
 chunks that are so very troublesome at times, I 
 caught at a bough to save myself from falling, and 
 that slight disturbance woke him up ; his organs of 
 hearing being very large. If the feathers are gently- 
 moved on one side from them, if the bird is living, 
 unless you had seen for yourself you would not 
 credit that such large openings as his could find 
 room in the head of a bird. Up shot his body like 
 a bit of a dead limb, the face was lengthened so 
 that the eyes looked like slits in it, and one wing 
 was hitched up and brought forward so that the 
 bend of it looked like the knot on a branch. As 
 to the plumage, it was a perfect bit of mimicry of 
 the half dead moss and lichen-covered trunk. In 
 and near the district above mentioned you may, in 
 the season, see some very handsome fungi, some of 
 them edible for those that like them. For instance, 
 the handsome delicious milk-mushroom, so called 
 (lactarius deliciosus). Unless people are quite 
 sure, without chance of a mistake, it is better to let 
 fungi alone the common mushroom excepted
 
 Some ttraits of Wilo %ife. m 
 
 for even some of the others that are eaten, if kept 
 over a certain time, are not safe. Some years back 
 I had a very unpleasant experience through eating 
 some fine meadow mushrooms that had stood too 
 long, in fact I was fairly poisoned. As the poison- 
 ous and harmless ones in some instances are very 
 much alike to ordinary observers, mistakes are 
 easily made. 
 
 Where reeds, sedges, and oat grass abound, and 
 peat bogs are, if you find the alder rod you have 
 cut and pointed at one end, goes through four 
 feet of matted floating tangle into water with- 
 out touching the bottom, although that rod is ten 
 feet in length, you will have to get away, and 
 in a most gingerly, cat-like manner. Fortunately 
 for the swamp dwellers, but unfortunately for a 
 wanderer like myself, such spots are chosen above 
 all others for nesting purposes and the rearing of 
 their young. Once, and once only, I saw what a 
 submerged swamp tangle looks like under the water, 
 for at my urgent request, made more than once 
 before my friend would listen to it, the reed cutting 
 punt was at last poled by him into a narrow deep 
 run of water which was fringed on either side by 
 reeds and sedge. The day was bright and hot and the 
 
 water was very clear, no rain having fallen to colour 
 12
 
 178 2>ritt from Xongsbore. 
 
 the water from the moor streams above that par- 
 ticular belt of swamp. When the punt was near 
 the middle of the run and fixed by her chain to a 
 thick willow stump, my friend said, " Now, I reckins 
 as this 'ere is a goat's game, but I'm a-goin' tu see the 
 beginnin' an' the end on it, since I bin dotty enough 
 tu give in. Ye ain't a-goin' out o' this 'ere punt 
 without this 'ere swamp-line round ye, an' I'm a-goin' 
 tu tie it. What ye will do afore you're done ain't 
 tu be reckined for, but I'm a-goin' tu tie ye, an' ye 
 wun't be under water long." All being arranged to 
 his satisfaction, I jumped from the bow of the 
 punt, and of course with my eyes wide open. 
 Then I saw for the first and last time what no 
 amount of persuasion would ever induce me to see 
 again. Deep down was a mass of floating tangle, 
 crossing and recrossing like a maze of fishing nets 
 hanging anyhow. It was only a glint, for my friend, 
 not knowing how long I could keep under water, 
 hauled me up as if some alligator was in pursuit. 
 In his eager haste he pulled me up through the 
 extreme edge of the swamp fringe, and the conse- 
 quence of this was that my head was well thatched. 
 I looked as if I had got one of his old skeps on. 
 From time to time very large pike, trout and eels, 
 are caught by anglers, very much to their astonish- 

 
 Some traits of Wflo Xife. 179 
 
 inent, from small runs of water certainly not more 
 than six feet in width at their widest part ; but there 
 may be thirty or forty yards of water, down on 
 either side, where even trees are growing, rooted in 
 the floating rotten tangle, the deposit of centuries. 
 The luxuriant growth, varied to a degree, is really 
 one of the agencies of nature for absorbing the 
 poisonous exhalations that would, but for it, float 
 about in all directions.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PAGEANTRY OF AUTUMN. 
 
 Go where you will just now, through the woods, or 
 over the heaths, or you may creep cautiously through 
 the beautiful but dangerous swamps, and you will see, 
 fresh and pure from nature's own palette, scales of 
 most harmoniously contrasted colouring. No matter 
 where it is distributed or what the arrangement of 
 it may be, massed or single, all things are in perfect 
 keeping with their surroundings. The hedgerows 
 alone, with their wealth of wild tangle, wild fruits 
 and berries, are full of changing hues as the days 
 go on, until at last the dead leaves fall, forming 
 stripes of hedgerow carpeting that might vie in 
 harmonious arrangement of colouring with the 
 choice products of Persian looms. To those who 
 have the true artistic instinct or feeling, the early 
 fall is a season of real enjoyment ; all day long 
 beautiful forms of the richest hues are before and 
 around them as they walk. 
 
 Nature's wild children are all alert, and in full fur 
 (180)
 
 pageantrg of Hutumn. isi 
 
 and feather. They have come from their temporary 
 hiding-places to enjoy the bountiful supply of food 
 provided for them. 
 
 One of the most beautiful objects to be seen in 
 the woods is the mountain ash, or, as it is far more 
 frequently called by rustics, the quicken or witch- 
 driver. So heavily are the trees cropped this genial 
 season that the branches droop with the weight 
 of the coral -red bunches. These " fowlers' trees," 
 so called again in some districts from the partiality 
 all fruit-eating birds show for the berries are 
 scattered here and there in loose order, very good 
 to look at, and, from the birds' point of view, ex- 
 ceedingly pleasant to eat from. 
 
 There is much to be seen just now by quiet 
 waters, for some of the waders have very young 
 broods with them. Young moorhens, when just 
 feathered, might very easily be mistaken at the first 
 glance, if seen singly or in pairs, for water rails. 
 If they would stay we might watch their movements 
 for hours. A very shallow run of water is trickling 
 in between some weed-covered stones, and two of the 
 brood are turning the weeds over in the most 
 business-like manner in order to get at the small 
 creatures concealed beneath them. The others are 
 running actively up and over the half submerged
 
 182 Drift from OLonasbore. 
 
 stem snags. I should not care to place a limit as 
 to where moorhens could get, if it were a case of 
 necessity. Until the broods are well able to take 
 care of themselves, the old birds keep them away 
 from deep water. We have repeatedly heard cruik,, 
 cruk ! from the parents, as a warning for the young 
 to keep close cover under the bank, so that they 
 could try a run of water through some lily pads. 
 They not only head-nod and tail-flirt their way 
 through the pads, but also into the rush clumps that 
 fringe them. Apparently their investigations are 
 quite satisfactory, for out they come, and they cluck 
 sharp that all is well ; then, and not before, their 
 young leave cover and join them. As four pike 
 have been taken from that run of water early in the 
 morning, we know that the passage is a safe one,, 
 but the birds are not sure of this and they act ac- 
 cordingly. Not being gifted with the accomplish- 
 ments of " Daddy Quin's " frog, which that gentle- 
 man declared stood upright when he sat down, and 
 had his eyes on the top of his head " jist for the 
 illigant crayther's convayniance " we are naturally 
 compelled to crawl and snake about considerably 
 in order to watch these small details of natural life. 
 We have passed the last house that we shall see 
 for seven long miles. So I am told by one whom,
 
 TTbe pageantry of Hutumn. iss 
 
 I overtake on that starved heath. No doubt this 
 gaitered " he'th cropper" thought I had lost my 
 way, and that it was his duty to put me right ; or 
 else to try by some means or other to find out 
 where I was bound for and what my business might 
 be. A strange face is not a particularly welcome 
 sight in some of these out-of-the-way places. More 
 than once I have overheard conversation with re- 
 gard to myself, when my temporary quarters were 
 in a comfortable roadside public-house, where the 
 natives used to "looter in when their work was 
 over for the day, in order to reckin things up a 
 bit ". You could hear their rambling talk from one 
 end of the house to the other. 
 
 " Where hev yer furrin feller bin tu day? " 
 " How suld I know, du ye think as he calls me 
 o' one side o' a marnin' to tell me wheer he be 
 a-goin'?" 
 
 " How long be he a-goin' tu bide wi' ye? " 
 " You git yer head in thet 'ere quart mug, an' see 
 if ye kin git tu the bottom on it," replies mine host. 
 "He ain't cum 'bout here tu mek inquirations 
 'bout Broom Squire holdin's, right o' paster, nor 
 yit wind-whistlin' heriots paid o' foggy nights. 
 So none o' you need worrit yersel's 'bout he." 
 So very secluded is this place that some of those
 
 184 Drift from XoitQSbore, 
 
 inquisitive sons of nomadic ancestors used to walk 
 two, and some of them three miles from their 
 lonely dwellings, just for the sake of a chat, and to 
 hear what little news had drifted there. Those 
 dwellers on the heaths have been named Broom 
 Squires, Broom Dashers, and Heath Croppers 
 the three titles have exactly the same meaning. 
 When or how they settled is of little moment ; 
 there they are, with their peculiarities and strong 
 prejudices. If you will take care to respect these, 
 it will, on their part, not be forgotten. 
 
 Where, I ask, will that line of country lead one to, 
 if I follow the main track of white glistening sand 
 that runs through the starved stunted heather. 
 
 " It'll take ye a most martil way up hill an' 
 down, right through the big holler atween the 
 Devil's Jumps, an' ye wun't see nuthin' but moss- 
 titlin's,puckriges [fern-owls], he' th-hummers [snipes], 
 herns and ducks " [mallards and teal]. This piece of 
 good news decides us at once as to the course we 
 should take, come what would of it. 
 
 As usual, when nearly out of hailing distance, 
 the man has something to communicate. All that 
 we can make out is something about " soft hollers ". 
 
 After trudging a couple of miles we dip down 
 into a green grass hollow ; the transition is start-
 
 jpacieantn? of Hutumn. iss 
 
 ling, from flinty sand and brown dwarf heather on 
 to that velvet-like stripe ; it is a compensation of 
 the waste. As we saunter down it, seedling firs 
 show here and there on either side of us, then 
 ferns. 
 
 We did not expect to see such a picture of fairy- 
 like beauty as that which presents itself to us on 
 turning a sharp bend in the green hollow. The bay 
 end of a lake is before us, the lake itself we cannot 
 .see, as the fir-covered hills curve round from the 
 water in front of us. Not a ripple on the surface 
 from fish or fowl, not even the hum of a moss-bee 
 or the faint cheep of a tittling can be heard ; we 
 are in the rest hollows of the hills. Feathered life 
 is there, but it is silent ; a solitary heron stands on 
 one leg, with his long neck in between his shoulders, 
 evidently digesting a full feed and pondering over 
 matters. On the margin of silver sand that fringes 
 the bay, some common sandpipers are tripping in 
 sober fashion, showing none of the restless activity 
 that is so noticeable on their first arrival, for their 
 ""flighting time" is near. The soft bright light of a 
 September's day steeps all in a bath of soft aromatic 
 brilliance. The light wanders over the cool dark- 
 green foliage, creeps down the red trunks, flickers on 
 the fern fronds, and then for a time rests on that belt
 
 186 Brift from Xongsbore. 
 
 of sand. There is a fringe or frame of silver round a 
 dark mirror of sword-blade steel-hued water. Then 
 for a time the light appears to stay ; the fresh shoots 
 of the firs show like points of the most vivid emerald 
 green, and where the light falls fair on some of the 
 trunks, they flash out in cinnabar hues of colouring. 
 The fading foliage of the brambles, crimson and 
 bright orange, show out from the ferns like living 
 fire, the whole being perfectly reflected in the still,. 
 clear, deep water. As we rest in the cool green 
 ferns here they have not changed colour we 
 breathe in all the life of the heaths and moors, for 
 only fir and heather flourish here. Wafts of heather- 
 honey scent reach us, rich and full, mingling with 
 the odour from the firs, not only refreshing, but 
 soothing us. Nature's remedy is this for those who 
 are wise enough to accept what she offers them free 
 of cost ; perhaps the sole remedy for some of the 
 minor ills that will and do trouble us all at times. 
 You are only one of the units of creatures here, 
 burdened with the power of loving and hating, and 
 troubled with hopes and fears, many of them not 
 to be explained by mortal man. A change steals 
 over you presently. The great Mother is silently 
 soothing her fretful child, telling you to do and to* 
 hope for the best, leaving all else to the great
 
 Ube Ibaaeantn? of Hutumn. is? 
 
 Power that shaped out these restful hollows of the 
 hills. 
 
 Day dreams will not, however, carry one over 
 moorland heather. As we leave the fir-fringed bay 
 and turn the bend of the lake, with a rattling scape, 
 sca-a-pe-skep-scape-skep ! up shoot a couple of 
 snipes, real beauties ; they go zig-zagging off at top 
 speed. Then, with almost as quick a spring, up get 
 a nice lot of teal, they breed here down by the 
 swamp tracks ; in fact you might see in this district, 
 without one exception, all the fauna of southern 
 England. The next generation may see some 
 startling changes, but they will not come in my 
 time. That is something to crow over ; so long as 
 I am able to get about to look after them, the 
 creatures will be there for me to see. Of all the 
 blatant humbug that has been put forth of late by 
 ignorant agitators, the talk of the cultivation of so- 
 called waste lands has in my opinion been the worst. 
 Shining gritty sand districts where rabbits are not 
 able to live, and miles of moss swamps where a 
 spade would sink out of sight if placed there, are not 
 the places to experiment on. Small runs of swamp 
 bordering main roads we have seen drained and 
 cultivated, but all the conditions were favourable. 
 The water feeders that formed the swamps were
 
 188 H>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 diverted by a short cut to the trout stream, and as 
 the whole of it was pure water no harm was done 
 there. One great help to the undertaking is a 
 natural one, that is the run of water from all the 
 swamps into the river. Runs are cut in all direc- 
 tions for the water to drain out, so that in a very 
 short time they are able to get on the quake bogs, 
 to work, by laying down the planks. But first 
 there will be the lord of the manor's consent to be 
 gained, then a compact has to be given to the 
 millers that no water shall be taken from their part 
 of the stream, also that they shall not have excess 
 of water when the bogs are drained from the 
 original sources that feed them. Draining opera- 
 tions for the purposes of spade-husbandry have not 
 been looked on favourably by certain classes, and 
 no small amount of tact has been necessary at times 
 to make matters fairly bearable for those who were 
 doing the job. 
 
 One of the worst bogs or swamps call it by 
 either name known to myself at the present time 
 is the source of one of the finest trout streams in 
 the district. It is a beautiful place at any time 
 or season, but just before the fall really sets in, 
 no artist's palette could show the brilliant tones 
 of colour that nature has here in the richest
 
 pageantrg of Butumn. 189 
 
 profusion. Crimson, yellow, deep orange, pale 
 pink, golden green and grass green, vermilion olive, 
 madder brown and glittering emerald are all here, 
 making a vast carpet of bog mosses, so exquisitely 
 blended that any description of them in writing 
 would be useless ; it is one of those rare combina- 
 tions where all is beautiful. And the surroundings 
 are in noble keeping with that gorgeous carpet of 
 nature's weaving. But a sad memory rises at times 
 when we visit it, for one well known to us lost his 
 life there. He and his fine dog were missed and 
 searched for ; at last they found " Hector " whining 
 pitifully and shivering with terror, his head laid 
 low, close to the spot where his unfortunate master 
 had gone down. Those that heard it will never 
 forget the funeral dirge that dog howled out as they 
 carried his master home through the fir woods. 
 
 The last faint reflections from the afterglow have 
 faded away, leaving the moor and the hills that 
 close in on either side, huge grey masses. Not 
 one sound is to be heard ; for a time the hollow 
 of the moor is at perfect rest. Bubble-bubble- 
 bubble-trickle-trickle-trickle then a faint splash. 
 That was a trout rising at a moth. This we can 
 hear as we lean on the old rail of the bridge that 
 with its single arch spans the moor stream which
 
 190 H)nft from Xonasbore. 
 
 delivers its waters with faint bubbles and trickles 
 into the long stretch of meadows below. A gleam 
 of the softest primrose light shows over the tops of 
 the firs that cover the hills in the distance ; the 
 light brightens and the full moon shows in all her 
 glory ; and then we see a transformation scene that 
 well repays us for our long tramp, as the light 
 steals over the firs to meet the long turf stripes of 
 the moor. For a time it rests on them, causing 
 blue-green patches of phosphorescent brightness 
 that appears to wander off and up in all directions. 
 Then the light falls fair and full on that carpet of 
 bog mosses, so that they show bright as day. A 
 " Jack o' Lantern's " paradise is this. Two birds, 
 with owl-like flight, come from the firs and are 
 lost to sight as they pitch on the moss in front of 
 us ; they are woodcocks come down to their feed- 
 ing quakes. Passing through the moonlit woods, 
 on our way home, we rest for a short time on the 
 low wall of a lonely churchyard that the woods en- 
 close. Close to us, full in the moonlight, is the 
 grave of one I knew ; one who longed for rest and 
 found it here. 
 
 Some of the woods that we roam through have 
 deep spring-water pools in them of considerable 
 size and depth from six to ten feet although
 
 ZTbe paseantrs of Hutumn. 191 
 
 from the clearness of the water they do not look 
 half so deep. Each one is a woodland mirror, and 
 here again the scale of colouring might almost be 
 called chromatic, for beech, oak, birch, ash and 
 maple trees are all changing colour. And trout 
 are there ; great fellows lazily sailing over the 
 bright green masses of weeds, or in between them ; 
 sturdy handsome fish that certainly do full credit 
 to their abundant food supply. The bright leaves 
 fall and float on the water like Queen Mab's boats ; 
 and little bits of twigs drop from the trees ; but 
 the fish give no sign. Presently some insects drop, 
 and flirt their wings in their efforts to recover 
 themselves. Then is the time to see those trout 
 swish round ; some of them, when they showed 
 their leopard-like spots on their golden sides and 
 cream coloured underparts, as they turned after 
 taking their flies, were a sight worth going far to 
 look at. 
 
 But it matters little when or where you may go in 
 the country, ever changing scales of colour are con- 
 tinually before you, even during the dead winter 
 time. One of the most fairy-like scenes of beauty 
 I have ever looked on was a wooded lane with the 
 winter's sun shining on and through the hoar frost 
 draped twigs and branches. For here the purest
 
 192 H)rfft from Xongsbore. 
 
 and most dainty hues had been distributed, flashing 
 and glistening above and below, from nature's own 
 palette. 
 
 Tracts of wild land, once little frequented, have 
 become known more or less to the general public 
 since so many lines of various railway companies 
 have been made through and over them. Vast 
 stretches, however, still exist at a distance from the 
 main roads, which have not yet been overrun by the 
 public ; where the so-called network of paths are 
 mere tracks leading over the hills and through the 
 hollows, closed in by long lines of hazel bushes 
 which are bowed down with the weight of their 
 clusters of nuts, you may wander for days ; the 
 few people that you see will be natives of the 
 district engaged in their various occupations, fern- 
 cutting, stone-digging, or cutting down the fir trees 
 which had been killed by the fires which have 
 devastated miles of some of the finest woodland 
 scenery in England. Not that this can be seen 
 from any main road the wreck of it all I mean 
 for the firs are so thick, extending in one direction 
 right away for six miles, that the fire has only driven 
 its way in a sort of path through them. 
 
 Whorts, or hurts as they are more generally called 
 in Surrey, are scarce just now, for the whortleberry
 
 ttbe paaeantrs of autumn. 193 
 
 bushes have been killed for miles in one district from 
 which I have just returned. The fire burned night 
 and day for a whole fortnight, and in some instances 
 for three weeks in spite of all that was done to stop 
 its work of devastation. The loss of wild life must 
 have been very great, for with the exception of four 
 jays and a small heath-lizard one saw nothing for 
 four miles. Black tree-trunks and burnt ground 
 get a wide berth given them by all creatures. A 
 fern-cutter told me that he had never known it burn 
 so deep down before ; in one narrow hollow the fir- 
 needles and the peat were burning far below the 
 roots of the trees. 
 
 Some of the larger tracks, which even in summer 
 are moist, show the marks of cart-wheels very 
 plainly, and these, if followed up, will lead into 
 sheltered hollows where you will find either a farm 
 or one of the old-time cottages. One out of three 
 of these cart-wheel tracks which I followed to the 
 end led me to a farm where everything seemed 
 sleeping. The house itself was old and solidly 
 built, having fine old-fashioned stacks of chimneys, 
 and it was surrounded by a high brick wall that 
 looked equally aged and weather-beaten, through 
 which a wide doorway led into the farmyard where 
 
 the thatch on some of the sheds was rotting, and 
 13
 
 194 Drift from Xonssbore. 
 
 large holes showed. All was silent, not a dog 
 barked, not a rooster crowed defiance, and the place 
 looked a picture of desolate and neglected old 
 age. A plum tree trained against the wall was 
 smothered in ivy, but one branch had managed to 
 push itself forward from the dark green mass, and 
 there it hung, the only fruit-bearing one on the tree, 
 weighed down by the large plums. Hard by was 
 the orchard, or rather what had once been one ; no 
 sign of fruit was on any of the trees, some of which 
 had sunk down in the grass, still alive but slowly 
 dying, while others were quite dead and completely 
 covered with moss. Not a goose or a duck was to 
 be seen about the horse-pond which a trickling rill 
 filled with water from the upland moor, not even a 
 solitary pigeon was on the roof of the house, no 
 sound was in the air but the trickling of the water 
 over the stones. Nevertheless the house was still 
 inhabited ; I knew that when I saw one of the win- 
 dow-curtains pulled a little on one side, as if a 
 strange face was not often seen and it had aroused 
 some curiosity. 
 
 At one time such dwellings were occupied by their 
 owners, and they were then kept in good order, but 
 no one would willingly live in them under the 
 present system of farming, and from what informa -
 
 paoeantrs of Butumn. 195 
 
 tion I have been able to glean, some of these 
 out-of-the-world houses are only tenanted by thos 
 who work on the large upland fields surrounding 
 them. 
 
 An artist, if he only knew where to find these 
 picturesque old buildings, would look upon them as 
 perfect treasures, but they are not easily to be got 
 -at ; and if the weather becomes rough it is very 
 difficult to get away from them, indeed there are 
 times when the tracks leading to them are impass- 
 able. When snow falls and the wind drifts, few 
 would care to venture into this region of sleepy 
 hollows, and even in summer things are not in- 
 variably pleasant. 
 
 The people living in the hurt woods are not com- 
 municative ; the facilities for intercourse with the 
 outer world are still limited ; and, even were it 
 otherwise, it would take time to develop a love of 
 polite conversation in a race that has for generations 
 past been taught from childhood to see everything 
 but to say nothing. In so primitive a district the 
 ties of kinship count for a great deal, memories are 
 very tenacious, and grievances, some of them really 
 groundless, have been religiously handed down for 
 generations. I have often heard some of the country 
 folks say : " I doan't 'zactly know 'bout it, but there
 
 196 2>rift from Xonasbore. 
 
 was a summut warn't jist right in some part o' our 
 fambly 'lations. I've heerd my old granny talk on 
 it and she knowed about summut." 
 
 And on the strength of such hearsay evidence ill 
 will is carefully fostered although no one knows the 
 circumstances over which the grudge arose a couple 
 of generations ago. The wisest plan to adopt is to 
 say absolutely nothing for or against either side, as. 
 relationships run wide here and you maybe reminded 
 of your own words from some very unexpected 
 quarter. Some of the old farms and large farm 
 cottages have sufficient histories and legends con- 
 nected with them to make a fair-sized volume. 
 Every one of these has been handed down from 
 father to son, and when compared with well authen- 
 ticated records they coincide perfectly. 
 
 Signs are still looked for and omens still believed 
 in by the dwellers in this lonely land, and not 
 without some reason, in fact they draw their in- 
 ferences in each case direct from nature. Whortle- 
 berry land is frequented by various classes, and 
 these are quite distinct from the woodlanders proper. 
 "Class" exists and is recognised even under the 
 shadow of the pines. Strange tales are told of horses 
 which have been stabled in these lonely farmyards, 
 tales that I firmly believe, because I know a little
 
 pageantry of Butumn. 197 
 
 about such matters. Horses are contradictory 
 creatures, being both courageous and timid, and even 
 -cart-horses have their aversions as well as those 
 that are better bred. A fox or hare that has crept 
 into a stable, will, if frightened and not able to get 
 out by the way it came in, dash about in the most 
 surprising manner. In one stable a half-wild cat 
 had crept in just before the horses were littered 
 down for the night, and had crouched down on a 
 beam where it remained unseen by any of the 
 carters or their lads. What caused the cat to get 
 frightened no one knew, but the carter in the middle 
 of the night heard a tremendous noise, as if the 
 stable were coming down. Lighting his lantern, 
 he got up and went across to see what could be 
 the matter. Two of the horses were snorting and 
 blowing and the others trembling and all in a sweat. 
 As he lifted up his light to take a look round, 
 something shot by his head and out of the door. 
 Although I actually collected the flick of fur that 
 had come from the cat, as it banged itself about in 
 terror, and showed it to him, it was a long time 
 before the worthy man could be persuaded that the 
 row in the stable had not been caused by some 
 supernatural agency. The old smuggling days 
 .gave rise to many a tradition that still obtains.
 
 198 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 It is where the firs have been thinned out to 
 allow the remainder to make timber trees that the 
 hurt bushes flourish in luxuriance over miles of 
 country ; and in the season, all, no matter what class 
 they belong to, are busy picking the whortle berries 
 both for sale and for their own consumption. But 
 now, unfortunately, that small industry will be 
 stopped for a season or two until the hurt woods can: 
 recover their growth. 
 
 A stranger would be astonished to see how in> 
 time of need the people will gather, suddenly 
 appearing by twos and threes, as if they sprang out 
 of the ground, until the entire strength of the dis- 
 trict has rallied for prompt action while the cow- 
 horns sound out the dreaded alarm of fire. Before 
 long this little oasis of primitive nature will have 
 become like the surrounding districts. Already 
 many changes have affected its outskirts, although 
 at present it still remains a pleasant land of fir, fern 
 and heather, with the hurt woods thrown in. Firs 
 are the trees most in evidence, but oak and beech 
 abound in numbers, while as to the beautiful elms 
 which stand round and about some of those lonely 
 farms and cottages, they are the finest I have ever 
 seen. 
 
 Beautiful although this country is, the intense
 
 pageantry of Hutumn. 199 
 
 quiet which reigns supreme will impress the mind 
 of a visitor even more than its loveliness. No 
 vulgar strife of noise clashes with intruding discords 
 to break its serene repose ; the pealing thunder 
 rolls, the rush of the swelling winds or the song of 
 birds, nature's voices which awake no jarring string, 
 are the only sounds that grate on your ear, and if 
 the cares of life fret you, as fret they sometimes 
 will, you can forget them in the perfect rest and 
 quiet of the hollows and the calm which broods 
 like a spell over fir-crowned hills within an hour 
 of London.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 COMMON LAND. 
 
 WE use the term " common land " as applied to all 
 wild waste lands which are not under cultivation. 
 No-man's lands these, let them be upland or low 
 moors, wooded or bracken heaths, wide downs or 
 fir-barrens, so called when nothing will grow there 
 but firs, which are in many cases self-sown. The 
 lords of the manors used to receive from the free- 
 holders and copyholders who had right of settle- 
 ment in the very centre of the places mentioned, 
 as well as on their outskirts and fringes, the simple 
 heriots and quaint manorial dues, leaving the 
 dwellers in peace to enjoy all the rights that be- 
 longed to them. Very great changes have taken 
 place within the last twenty years, and my aim is 
 to show plainly and fairly, without leaning to either 
 side of this vexed question, some of the changes 
 which have led up to the present unsatisfactory 
 state of affairs. This I do, not from what I have 
 
 heard, but from what I know after wandering over 
 (200)
 
 Common Xano. 201 
 
 these common lands very much during the years 
 1894 to 1896. I have, however, known them in- 
 timately for more than forty years. 
 
 If the various alterations had not affected the 
 fauna of these wild districts there would not be so 
 much to regret from the naturalist's point of view, 
 but they have done this. The wild creatures, the 
 most common species, are decreasing month by 
 month and year after year ; they have vanished 
 from some of their favourite haunts as if they had 
 never existed. Changes are of course necessary for 
 the general good of the people, but nature allows 
 no actions of her own creatures to alter one jot 
 her final and imperative laws. Certain conditions 
 are necessary for the well-being of certain creatures, 
 and if through human agency those conditions cease 
 to exist, the creatures move from their old-time 
 haunts to return no more. Financial changes, 
 allied to political ones, have had something to do, 
 directly or indirectly, with the present land question. 
 The owners of large properties have a perfect right 
 to dispose of them for the building purposes of 
 speculators if they choose to, and those who have 
 the control of manorial rights can, of course, dispose 
 of them as they please. If freeholders or the copy- 
 holders think fit to sell their holdings, with all
 
 202 Drift from SLongsbore. 
 
 rights of commonage and range of mast-feed, to a. 
 fresh lord of the manor, they must very naturally 
 expect that he will certainly claim and use for his 
 own benefit all that he has paid for, and in nine 
 cases out of ten paid for well. What can it matter 
 to these who the lord of the manor or manors may 
 be, when their interests in the matter have ceased 
 to exist ? But endless and most bitter are the con- 
 tentions of the near, and also the distant, relatives 
 over a sale of this kind. " I 'swayded fayther all as 
 iver I knowed how, not tu let the old shant goo, 
 but I moight jist es well ha' kept my tater-trap 
 shet. You've heerd o' second childniss cumin', 
 ain't ye? My fayther's eighty-four year old, but 
 he's a leetle too much fur me. 'Ain't I eldest son?' 
 O' coorse I be, an' I allus reckined on my sheer, as 
 things wus. But this here's a reg'lar corker ; the 
 moore I thinks on it the less I likes it. He sez as 
 how he's set out fur the money, what the old shant 
 an' groun' fetched, tu be ekally divided arter he's 
 gone, but how do I know as it wull be ? Old folks 
 is main full o' crokits, an' they gits wenemous 
 timpered, if so be as you doan't hold in wi' 'em in 
 all ways ; an' yit it's wuth all as ye expects to git 
 to hold in wi' 'em. An' I doan't know where he 
 hev put his money. S'pose it be in one o' them
 
 Common Xano. 203 
 
 'ere banks, an' it busts up ? I axed him if so be 
 as he could let me hev my sheer, an' done wi' it. 
 
 " Massey-oh-alive ye never seed, nor yit heerd 
 sich ructions. He chucked his crab stick on the 
 floor, an' he turned his cheer over, jumpin' on it 
 in a wenemous way, an' he hollers out, 'Will, 
 ye onnateral vill'in, do ye want tu order a coffin 
 fur me afore I dies, do ye, eh ? ' An' I says, ' No, 
 sartain sure, I didn't'. ' Wull ye obleege yer fayther 
 then wi' doin' him a kindness, Son Will ? ' an' I 
 said, ' By course 'es, I would, if I could'. ' Werry 
 well then, goo out o' thet 'ere door, and doan't ye 
 cum in ag'in afore I sends fur ye ; fur ef so be as 
 ye do, I cuts ye off wi' a shillin'.' " 
 
 A long four miles through forest growths, com- 
 posed principally of oaks that grow luxuriantly free, 
 broken here and there by huge holly clumps, varied 
 by black dogwood and sallows, have we tramped 
 over without seeing one human being, after leaving 
 the narrow main high road that runs through this 
 portion of No-man's Land. 
 
 The soil is a stiff, tenacious clay broken up by 
 pools and pits, now nearly dry, for no rain has 
 fallen for months. The place is bad to travel 
 over as it is ; we pass through acres of rushes, 
 fresh and green, although the sun-baked earth is
 
 204 H)rift from Xonasbore. 
 
 riven and cracked in all directions. Deep water- 
 courses, now quite dry, form a very awkward lot 
 of traps to step or stumble into, half hidden as 
 many of them are by tangled brushwood. But 
 they contribute to the comfort of the ragged-fleeced 
 sheep which are scattered about in all directions. 
 Look where you will, there they are in the cool 
 shadow of the water runs. Dark yellowish stone 
 colour the creatures are, just the tint of the soil 
 they rest on in the water runs. A few jays, not 
 half a dozen all told, one partridge, four wood- 
 pigeons, three tree-pipits, five blackbirds, two 
 thrushes, with some rooks and jackdaws these 
 you will never fail to see where sheep are feeding 
 complete the list of all the bird life seen by us in 
 this place. And these were mute. 
 
 Surely, we think, this is not natural ? Another 
 uncomfortable mile of walking solves the question, 
 for quite fifty fine oaks were down on the rough 
 sward, barked and free from lop and top, ready to 
 be carted away. Looking through the gap, two 
 great notice boards meet our view, these state that 
 760 acres are for sale, on the most advantageous 
 terms, to suit the convenience of purchasers. The 
 ring of axe-strokes and the hiss of saws, combined 
 with the crash of falling timber, are more than wild
 
 Common Xano. 205 
 
 things can bear. Wise creatures that they are, the 
 first warning is enough for them as to what is be- 
 fore them, and they flit before worse comes. Even 
 the so-called lower forms of life, the reptiles, are 
 seized with panic, when for the first time the 
 ground jars where the great trees fall. Although 
 we search all the most favourable spots fully ex- 
 posed to the hot sun, we do not see or even hear 
 one. When, to our great relief, we have cleared 
 this lonely belt of woods and gained the road once 
 more, we come out of the bushes directly in front 
 of a lonely wanderer's hoop tent, with a fire on the 
 ground in front of it. A bare-footed child about 
 eight years old stands near it ; suddenly he springs 
 on one side and yells out, " Here's a big adder, 
 father ". The man rushes to the place, with a stick 
 in his hand, but the reptile has vanished. " He'll 
 come back to the same place, master," he remarks, 
 " out of that hole he's gone in, if I keep quiet ; then 
 I'll get him. 'Tis the heat of the fire draws him." 
 The strange changes in tenants that some old 
 mansions have seen, from the time when they were 
 first built, are remarkable. One well known to my- 
 self, which has a noble staircase leading from the 
 hall, was, when I first knew it, used as a farm- 
 house ; the Court Farm it was. Now it is a man-
 
 206 H>rfft from OLonosbore. 
 
 sion of the olden days once more, having been 
 restored to all its former grandeur by one who is 
 well able to appreciate its beauties. Strange pro- 
 ceedings have taken place in the great halls and 
 cellars of some of these old places, the doings of 
 those who rented them during the absence of their 
 owners who lived abroad for many years. As 
 three, or at the most four of the smallest bed- 
 chambers, and about the same number of rooms 
 on the ground floor were quite sufficient for all the 
 needs of a farmer's family at that time, all the 
 other rooms were closed. The long box shutters 
 had never been unfastened from the time when the 
 owners left their fine places to travel abroad. The 
 floor of one great hall, belonging to a fine old place 
 I knew, was used by one tenant as a vast malting 
 floor for the purpose of illicit distilling. When this 
 was at last found out, he had himself to make 
 quick tracks for foreign parts. Magnificent stained- 
 glass windows were there, many were removed from 
 them later by their owners to their modern man- 
 sions, there they reminded you of a bit of the old 
 world brought into the new. There is an unfitness 
 though, when the rich and harmonious colouring of 
 one of those old-time windows is seen in a modern 
 dwelling, which is like placing a fine picture painted
 
 Common Xano. 207 
 
 by some old master in a collection of the latest 
 impressionist school. Strange sights were seen at 
 times, and weird, uncanny noises heard as well in 
 the old places. Standing in lonely places, with a 
 very limited rustic population about them, the 
 greater part of these employed on the estates, a 
 population that could talk freely about spells, 
 charms and the evil-eye, this is not to be wondered 
 at. 
 
 It is a cruel sight, a four-horse pleasure-van full of 
 people, decked all round with great boughs of haw- 
 thorn blossoms, wrenched and torn from the hedge- 
 rows that they have passed on their way ; and from 
 those beautifully shaped trees on the downs that 
 the main road from London runs over. Where 
 some of the trees do not yield their floral treasures 
 easily, united force splits them in half. People 
 come into the country to enjoy themselves, as they 
 term it, and find the chief part of their so-called en- 
 joyment in wanton, thoughtless mischief. Accord- 
 ing to what one gleans from history and from ancient 
 records, the great stretches of common lands, vast 
 in past days, were the chases or hunting grounds of 
 the religious establishments, and of those nobles 
 who dwelt near them. Some of the mansions 
 remain, but only the ruins of peaceful abbeys,
 
 208 Drift front 
 
 chapels and pilgrims' rest-houses are seen. There 
 are, however, some compensations. On the last 
 day of a long tramp, before writing this article, with 
 no chance of refreshment, and several miles distant 
 from the nearest railway station, I was thinking of 
 the old saw, " Wise men stay at home," when a turn 
 in the road on the crest of the hill showed just 
 below me a fine old red brick mansion that had 
 stood there in Queen Elizabeth's days, with its 
 ancient cedars and old-time garden surrounded by 
 massive walls. The soft light of a July evening 
 brought the whole out in fine relief. On reaching 
 the foot of the hill another surprise was in store, 
 for the back of the house with its enormous out- 
 buildings was, I think, grander than the front. The 
 river ran by the side of it ; at one time there had 
 been a mill here, the house mill, which not only 
 ground for the manor-house but also for tenants and 
 others, but now a thing of the past. Only the 
 choked-up water-course remains to tell where the 
 water left the river above the house to turn the 
 wheel, and again to enter the river just below it. 
 There was a ford here in past days, where the great 
 cardinal passed, on his way from his palace to Lon- 
 don. A grey bridge spans the water, and from it 
 you can look down on the trout playing about in
 
 Common Xano. 209 
 
 the clear water of the old ford below. A solitary 
 figure stood on the bridge looking down on the 
 water. From the cut of his rusty velveteen jacket 
 and his frayed spattledashers, commonly called 
 leggings, and his loosely laced boots, one knew at 
 once that, if he could not talk fluently on some 
 matters, he could about fish. 
 
 " Have you got many trout in the run of this 
 river? " we ask him. 
 
 "Ah, a few I reckins, and a middlin' size. I've 
 seen 'em ketched off where I'm standin', five pound 
 weight, an' one or two of 'em six. Do you fish, 
 master? " 
 
 " I have fished a little in my time, but are you 
 allowed to fish in this water ? " 
 
 " Only from this 'ere bridge. If so be you was to 
 git down by the edge o' the water they'd pull ye up 
 for it like a shot. But nobody ain't able to perwent 
 ye ketchin' 'em from here." 
 
 " But how do you manage to land a good fish 
 when you have fairly hooked him ? You could not 
 lift him up fifteen feet without tearing all out and 
 away." 
 
 " We fishes in pairs ; one helps t'other, jist as luck 
 runs. If I hooks a fish I gives him the butt quick, 
 
 an 1 gits him to the side." 
 14
 
 210 Drift from Xonasfoore. 
 
 " But how is he brought up from below without a 
 break ? " 
 
 " Do ye know what a bat-foldin' pole is, a good 
 tough ash un ? " 
 
 " I have used one many a time." 
 
 " Well, we has a good stone-willow hoop lashed 
 on with a net to it. Afore he gits close in, that 
 long pole with the net on is let down behind, an' 
 it follers him in. Directly his head touches the 
 bank the whole o' the fish is fair in the net, an' 
 up he comes." 
 
 Taking all the bearings of the matter into due 
 consideration, very little harm is done by real down- 
 right poaching, on or over wide spaces of common 
 lands, where game certainly can be found at all 
 times, more or less according to the seasons. Even 
 if some of the dwellers did wish to do it, which they 
 do not, the job would not pay for the trouble, for 
 wide ranging creatures are wild to a degree ; here 
 and there, and up like a flash, or going at top speed 
 for long distances, over the ground without stop- 
 ping. As to the little which is done for the love of 
 real sport, pure and simple, no one suffers from that 
 except those who at times get caught red-handed. 
 Poaching looks ugly in print, but as a rule that is 
 the beginning and the end of it. If all who have
 
 Common Xano* 211 
 
 had a little fun that way, in their time, owned up to 
 it as a warning to others, how astonished some of 
 their friends would be, and their better halves most 
 of all. 
 
 Serious misunderstandings have cropped up of 
 late in one district that I know, the real cause of 
 which is only known to those who are directly in- 
 terested in the matter ; but the effects proceeding 
 from the real or fancied grievances have been dis- 
 astrous enough. For the last nine months I have 
 kept away from the locality. It is simply impos- 
 sible to reason with a certain class. Some of the 
 freeholders, copyholders and squatters who claimed 
 from long years of unquestioned holdings, have 
 themselves brought about the state of things that 
 they complain of. 
 
 If there is one thing that this class of people can 
 do better than another it is keeping their mouths 
 shut on their own affairs. Through long years of 
 intimate acquaintance I never knew one of them let 
 his neighbour know what he was going to do. A 
 few years back there was a very curious instance of 
 this. Four gentlemen built their houses on a fine 
 open grassy down, well dotted over with fine old 
 yew trees and juniper bushes. A public bridle path, 
 used at the present time, ran over the downs for
 
 212 2>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 seven miles. After a time the whole of this track 
 had notice boards by the side of it, warning all 
 travellers that if they got out of it they would be 
 proceeded against for trespassing. Then for a brief 
 time there was a considerable shindy. Heads were 
 punched and eyes placed in mourning ; and dead 
 rabbits, held by their hind legs, were used as 
 weapons for leathering purposes. It leaked out at 
 last that all those who had undoubted rights of 
 commonage had sold them, without the least re- 
 serve, to the gentlemen that had built there, with- 
 out one of their fellow copyholders or the people 
 in the small village knowing one word about it 
 Each had acted simply for his own benefit, and 
 this with them is a rule without exception. New 
 comers of a certain class who run up their paltry- 
 bungalow villas, that will not last out their building 
 leases, have only added fuel to the fire in some 
 directions. Their wages, " high fallutin'," and their 
 arrogant self-assertion have not been appreciated. 
 This they have found to their cost. 
 
 " Do ye see that 'ere feller wi' a flat cap an' a 
 tarsel a-top on it like a come-back's [guinea fowl's] 
 head ; he wi' the blue sparticles on ? Well, our old 
 Jack went fur him t'other night. I'd jist turned 
 the beast out o' the cart an' he went on the sward
 
 Common Xanfc, 213 
 
 yander in front o' the huss where thet chap's bidin' 
 fur a time. Out thet 'ere feller cums, an' ladles it 
 inter old Jack wi' a stick, cos he said as the horn- 
 blowin' [he can sound his horn proper] perwinted 
 him from studyin'. Jack wun't stand thet, not frum 
 folks as he doan't know, so he went fur him an' 
 snapped at his head jist as he was a-goin' in the 
 gate. He pulled thet 'ere tarsel cap off on him." 
 
 How or when this vexed question will be settled 
 no one can tell. That a stubborn feeling of resent- 
 ment exists, their side glances and gruff evasive 
 answers to plain questions as to road and path, 
 directions asked* for by chance wanderers, show. 
 If some of the natives have seen you using a field- 
 glass or telescope, you will not get directed accur- 
 ately, far from it. One wide common that I lately 
 passed over had a whole colony of show-carts and 
 roundabout people settled on the extreme end of it. 
 By cautious inquiries I elicited that they camped 
 there all the year round. Thousands of children 
 are brought down there by rail to sport and play, 
 and grown up folks visit the place in legions. In the 
 holiday season a large portion of the breezy place 
 looks like some huge fair. Thirty years ago the 
 only visitors who came there were feathered ones, 
 wild-geese, mallards, teal, woodcocks, snipes,
 
 214 H>rift from Xonasbore. 
 
 golden and green plovers, crows, rooks, jackdaws,, 
 hawks and owls ; now large houses fringe the 
 common round on all sides. 
 
 Some birds will claim attention by the strange 
 pertinacity with which they cling to a nesting site- 
 Here is one great plashy tract encircled by trees, a 
 perfect site, if appearances could be trusted, and not 
 one single peewit on it. Yet when we have cleared 
 and got on the high road, the peewits wheel about 
 us and strike down over us in the most demonstra- 
 tive manner. They are nesting ; although this is a. 
 narrow rushy flat close to the back of a railway 
 station, and directly in front of a very fine-looking 
 hotel. Before the line was made, or even thought 
 about, this part had been for long years their favourite 
 haunt, both for nesting and feeding purposes ; but 
 then the nearest cottage was more than a mile 
 away. As common rangers really keepers have 
 the over-looking of these places in the interests of 
 their employers, the lords of the manors, the birds 
 are comparatively safe from harm in the way of 
 egg-pilfering, or at any rate they are supposed to 
 be so. 
 
 Forty years ago those who had the looking after 
 matters did not " gun-about " so much as they do 
 at present ; they did not press small matters where
 
 Common Xano. 215 
 
 they would seriously affect humble individuals. 
 The smallest shanty that was ever stuck up had a 
 good wide ditch round it, with a run from the ditch 
 leading out on the waste. 
 
 Now all ditches are scrupulously cleaned out 
 every year, just before the autumn rains fall. As a 
 dead hedge surrounds them not a live one for 
 various reasons the tenacious soil from the ditch 
 is thrown up on the dead thorns, where after a time 
 it solidifies. As this simple process narrows the 
 ditch, it has to be widened out after a couple of 
 generations, and by this very primitive but far- 
 seeing process, small holdings have developed into 
 large ones. The clearing out of those ditches, also 
 the widening of them, has been done to perfection ; 
 and not by cotters alone, but by those immeasurably 
 above them in the social scale. As one old squatter 
 observed to me recently, " I hev sin places git bigger ; 
 they grows ". 
 
 When the holdings have been situated in some 
 lonely dingle, which was barely visited by the 
 rangers of past times, it can be little wonder if the 
 " count of the matter," as the rustics term it, passed 
 away with them when these died. A man I lodged 
 with for some three months was a forest ranger in 
 a very wild locality. From him I heard the history
 
 216 s>rift from Xonosbore. 
 
 of several well-to-do people whose fathers had been 
 " broom squires " and " he'th croppers " pure and 
 simple. 
 
 " The old squire didn't heed about 'em, an' the 
 young one hev seldom bin home ; he likes furrin 
 parts best. Ye see his mother was a grand furrin 
 lady o' sum sort, so he took to her country. An* 
 my father had the same place as I hev now, an' he's 
 told me lots o' times as he waun't a-goin' to interfere ; 
 fur he was about a goodish bit o' nights, an' he 
 didn't keer to hev enything happen to him atween 
 night an' morn in'. You knows what I means, I 
 reckins." 
 
 Freehold, or copyhold squatter rights, or in some 
 instances prescriptive ones, each and all have been 
 duly recognised. This can be proved by looking 
 down any bill of sale posted up in country places, 
 where it is duly named that certain properties are 
 to be sold, which are now in the holding of persons 
 herein mentioned, subject to heriot at death, or 
 held by paying yearly to the lord or lords of the 
 manor, quit rent or fee simple, or held under life- 
 leases of ninety-nine years, half of the same having 
 expired. There are two very distinct views to be 
 taken on this subject, one that of the landowner and 
 the other from the standpoint of those that hold
 
 Common Xano. 217 
 
 property independently, on the ground or grounds 
 that his manorial rights extend over. The present 
 age is certainly one of investigation on all subjects, 
 both theological and secular. In more than one 
 instance we have known certain rights supposed to 
 be manorial ones to be handed direct over to the 
 people.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AT DAWN OF DAY. 
 
 THE first grey light of the dawning is showing over 
 the eastern hills as we stand on the firm edge of a 
 wet common, or, more properly speaking, a swamp, 
 which is the last portion left of a vast area of 
 " quakes ". Only a generation ago these were 
 practically impassable, except to those wanderers 
 of a nomadic type who had for generations been 
 settled near them. These people gained their living* 
 from the fur, feather, and fin that at one time were 
 to be found there in great quantities. The growth 
 of wood, copse, and moor was all laid under con- 
 tribution by them ; they really ruled these wilds 
 in their own primitive fashion. The power they 
 had was unacknowledged, but it was one that could 
 make itself felt at times in most objectionable ways. 
 The middle of July is not a very favourable time 
 for general observation, but for the few swimmers 
 and waders that remain to breed with us that period 
 
 is the best to watch them about with their broods. 
 (218)
 
 Bt H>awn ot Bap. 219 
 
 Birds of the same species do not nest according to 
 rule or plan : some are very early and others very 
 late in breeding. On and about a spot I have 
 visited, not once but many times at the same time 
 of year, some birds were constructing their nests, 
 whilst others were sitting hard ; and in many in- 
 stances broods were out and about. In the early 
 stages that is, when they are fluffy these latter are 
 not allowed to leave their platforms of sedge, rush, or 
 mare's-tails some are made exclusively of one of 
 these growths before the sun is high up overhead 
 and the water warm. Sitting on a bundle or sheaf 
 of last year's sedges, we can see through a fringe of 
 tall sword-blade grass, in which slight openings for 
 purposes of observation have been made most care- 
 fully, by means of slight, forked alder-boughs. My 
 water-boots are in the wet sludge ; a long, heavy 
 ash staff firmly planted between the knees in the 
 soft mud ; a sling is hitched round the stick as a 
 rest for a powerful telescope that I use at times for 
 purposes of accurate definition beyond a certain 
 distance, instead of field-glasses. With my left hand 
 resting on the top of the staff and the elbow of the 
 right arm on my knee, I can turn the glass in all 
 directions as it rests midway in the temporary 
 sling, and the simple contrivance is as firm as a
 
 220 Brift from Xongsbore. 
 
 post. Midges and other winged fiends of a larger 
 size, and of the most bloodthirsty habits, have to be 
 borne with ; the only relief being smothered excla- 
 mations that far overstep the boundary lines of 
 refined diction. With the exception of the mallards, 
 all the other cock-birds are foraging over the water, 
 and diving beneath it for provender to take to the 
 hens, so that they can feed their little coodlers. 
 The shallow water is almost tepid with the heat. 
 Just beyond the flowering rush- beds the water is 
 little more than five feet in depth, not counting 
 mud. Mallard, teal, coot, moorhens, dabchicks 
 these latter, by the way, have as yet only just got 
 their full complement of eggs at least none of the 
 tiny creatures are about with their parents a few 
 water-rails, and some herons that come here to feed, 
 complete the show. A pale yellow, so pale that 
 the light looks cold, succeeds to the grey ; then 
 through and over it comes the rose-tinted flush of 
 morn, followed by the rising of the sun. As his 
 life-giving beams glide down and over the heather, 
 to turn the grey sheet of water into liquid dancing 
 gold, whilst the fowl splash and flutter over their 
 morning wash, the cold mists that had rested a few 
 feet above the water throughout a night of semi- 
 twilight rise up in the warm air above and float
 
 Ht H)awn of 2)ap. 221 
 
 away. Insects, together with vegetable matters, 
 form the food-supply of the young broods in their 
 early stages. As some of the nests are not a 
 dozen yards from our hiding-place, we can see the 
 insects captured and the delicate weeds collected 
 by the male birds and delivered to the females, that 
 are sitting close, for distribution to their hovered 
 young. All the nests have sloping gangways on 
 one side or the other, as convenience or instinct 
 dictated, so that the feathered father may walk up 
 to his mate, and the young ones run down from 
 out the nest to meet him, one at a time, and be fed, 
 the food passing from his bill to theirs in the form 
 of pellets about the size of large peas. For two 
 hours I \vas busy sketching the various actions of 
 seven young coots in a nest close to me. The tops 
 of their heads looked like half-withered damask 
 rosebuds, and this colour, combined with the hair- 
 like yellow fringe round their necks, and their 
 greyish-black bodies, formed a fine bit of colouring, 
 brought up and out in the most vivid manner by 
 the greyish-green mare's-tails that composed the 
 nest. As some of the structures, with the birds on 
 them, are from fifteen to eighteen inches above the 
 level of the water, the use of that sloping weed- 
 gangway is evident. As long as the sun was full
 
 222 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 on the nest, the mother allowed her chicks to go 
 down for the food that the father brought for them ; 
 but directly the least shadow fell, she called them 
 all to her and fed them under her. 
 
 No predaceous fish are here to disturb their 
 domestic arrangements ; in fact it is doubtful if any 
 fish could live in the brown peat-water. Herons 
 are here, for the numerous small deer that are far 
 more free than welcome in making their appearance 
 at times. These birds have their time for coming 
 and going : before eight o'clock they will rise as 
 one bird and betake themselves to the river below, 
 where they will gorge to repletion on small fish 
 that no one troubles about, such as gudgeon, loach, 
 miller's thumbs and cray-fish, natter-jacks (the 
 yellow-striped "running toads"), newts, snakes, 
 frogs the snake's principal provender great water- 
 beetles the Goliaths of their race all are sampled 
 by the grey herons when they visit this remnant 
 of the primeval wilderness. Their visits to the 
 river below, in order to pick up trifles here and 
 there, seem to be made from a corrective point of 
 view, just to set right what they have devoured 
 in their swamp investigations. I saw this spot 
 last when moonlight, a bright moon high up in a 
 clear, cloudless sky, threw her soft light directly
 
 St Dawn of H>as. 223 
 
 on and over the peat-water swamp, converting it 
 into a silver mirror, framed in by a wide ebony 
 border of rush and sedge. The distant hills and 
 the near moorlands only showed out as great 
 shadowy masses, more or less defined according to 
 distance. Not a sound could be heard ; even the 
 " puckridges " a local name for the fern-owl or 
 eve-jars for a time seemed to have forgotten their 
 only song, the whirr of the spinning-wheel. Why 
 it should be so absolutely silent at certain seasons 
 I have never been able to discover. Not even the 
 hum from a moth's wing or a beetle's boom is to 
 be heard, all around and about is at perfect rest ; 
 so quiet is it that your own breathing falls on your 
 ear distinctly, as you look on the wondrous scene, 
 from the cool damp sward of the moor. 
 
 A lowering dawn, the damp air being charged 
 with electricity, finds us in the very heart of a 
 woodland haunt, returning home after being out 
 all through the night. Two courses are open to 
 us, either to go the nearest way through some belts 
 of oak woods, or over the moors and through the 
 fir warrens a longer distance, but, under the 
 threatening aspect of the weather, the safer route. 
 
 Oaks I have seen struck and riven by lightning 
 repeatedly, but a fir tree only once in a lifetime :
 
 224 H)dft front OLongsbore. 
 
 there is the tree in front of us, a forest giant, torn 
 and twisted as if the great limbs were rope cables. 
 When fairly on the moors, a heavy curtain of dark- 
 grey hot mists blots all out with the exception of 
 the tops of the firs on the higher ground. Then 
 from out the grey veils shoots a blinding flash of 
 forked lightning, followed by a terrific peal of 
 thunder. Flash follows flash, and peal follows 
 peal ; then the wind comes rushing and roaring 
 through the firs, and whirls the mist away. Some 
 rabbits and one solitary hare appear to fly over the 
 ground and vanish like shadows. The pipits, or, 
 as they are far more frequently called, " titlings," 
 or tit-larks, endeavour to rise up from where they 
 have been feeding ; but their long tails get " slewed " 
 by the winds, and they nearly turn turtle. After a 
 few flicks from their wings, very much on one side, 
 they drop down again, cheeping in the most dis- 
 consolate manner. Presently we almost walk on a 
 fine old cock pheasant, a real stout moor-rover. 
 As he rises, his long tail-feathers almost touch our 
 shoulders ; but the wind is too much for him, his 
 long tail swings round in a curve, and away he 
 goes down-wind like a rocket, sounding out his fran- 
 tic alarm notes of chuck -chuck- chuck -chuckeep- 
 chuck-chuck. Then down comes the rain ; not a
 
 Ht H>awn of 2>a. 225 
 
 shower, but sheets of it, blotting out all objects from 
 view far and near a blinding torrent of water. In 
 two minutes we are as thoroughly wet through as 
 if we had plunged into a river. The ruts on the 
 moor are full of water rushing down to the trout- 
 stream below ; in fact, we can hear the plashing 
 from those nearest to us as they leap like miniature 
 cascades from the banks direct into the stream. 
 
 As a rule, wild things make for cover on the first 
 indications of a storm ; but, like common humanity, 
 some of them are sure to be abroad if it comes on 
 them quickly. The storm passes away with low 
 grumblings over the northern range of hills, for it 
 came up direct from the south. The sun shows 
 warm and bright, the rain-drops glitter all over the 
 moor turf as if millions of diamonds had been 
 scattered broadcast over it. From the very top 
 twigs of the trees and stunted bushes all the 
 choristers of the district break into full song and 
 gay twitters ; for they know well that after the air 
 is cleared, life will be brighter. The same at- 
 mospheric changes that depress human beings 
 affect bird life. 
 
 It has been a dry night, without dew, so that we 
 can pass along the path that leads from the fir 
 
 woods direct through the meadow and through the 
 15
 
 226 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 farm-road a public one, although rarely used in 
 this sequestered spot into the lonely woodland 
 roads beyond. When heavy dews are on the 
 grass in water-meadows, it is best to avoid them 
 if possible, for this moisture has a most penetrating 
 quality. Lonely as the old red -bricked farm, so 
 snugly sheltered at the foot of the well-wooded 
 hollow, is, no dogs are loose outside of it; that I 
 know well ; but three game fox-terriers have their 
 stations at night inside the fine old place one on 
 the mat at the front door, another at the back, 
 and one in the kitchen. You may pass along at 
 any time of the night, or in the early dawn, with- 
 out being challenged ; but if they hear a step on 
 any of the three paths leading to where they are 
 stationed, their infuriated, sharp, yapping yells of 
 defiance will be heard plainly enough, inside and 
 out. Very little life is moving so early as two 
 o'clock in the morning : a solitary thrush perches 
 on the top shoot of a fir, and pipes once or twice ; 
 but evidently thinking he has made a mistake 
 in the time, he drops down to his rest again. 
 
 It has continued hot and dry for two entire 
 months ; in fact people have in some places been 
 forced to carry water to the sheep. All the cattle 
 are down in the grass, not one of them is up, a
 
 Ht S>awn of 2>a. 22? 
 
 sure sign that they have fed well through the 
 night without anything to disturb them ; all you 
 can hear from them is munch-munch, as they 
 peacefully chew their cud. They will come to the 
 farm-gate of their own accord before five o'clock, 
 -at the sound of the milking-can. The poultry 
 roost outside here, and take their chance all 
 through the spring, summer, and early autumn ; 
 the turkeys, fowls, and the guinea-fowls or " come- 
 backs," in the trees. When winter comes they 
 must be placed under cover from prudential 
 motives. The fine Aylesbury ducks, large farm- 
 yard and half-bred wild ducks, are all asleep on 
 the grassy margin of the duck-pond, the various 
 breeds in separate companies, not mixed up any- 
 how. We know that geese are about somewhere ; 
 but if we can avoid it, not one of these grey patri- 
 archal ganders will get a glimpse of us as we move 
 along slowly over the turf. If one does, he will 
 open his mouth and give out his honking, gabbling 
 noise, loud enough to be heard in the hush of early 
 morn a mile away. 
 
 What we want is to see some of the tenants of 
 that farmyard before the house-folks are moving. 
 The sparrows are waking up in their nesting-holes 
 under the thatch. Then one of the farm cats
 
 228 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 crosses the road in front, with something in her 
 mouth ; not a rat or rabbit, nor yet a young game 
 bird or hare, but a full-grown stoat. I have often 
 seen cats * with stoats and weasels in their mouths 
 that they have killed ; yet when puss gets a few 
 yards out of bounds the keeper shoots her when he- 
 can. Over the thatched roof of the great barn a 
 white owl flaps, with some small quarry in its bilL 
 This is not held, as is usually the case, by one foot, 
 or, if the prey is of some size, by both. The reason 
 for this is soon made clear, for the bird makes 
 directly for the top of the pigeon-cot, hooks on 
 with its claws to the lower edge of a crack in the 
 boards, and enters sideways in the most expeditious 
 manner, through a small hole that looked only 
 large enough for a starling to pass through. 
 
 If a bat enters the trunk of a hollow tree, or a 
 hole in one of its limbs, it flies to it at full speed and 
 vanishes like a flash. Owls do the same : they 
 look large when on the wing, but I have repeatedly 
 seen both species the brown owl and the white 
 owl come with a dash and disappear like magic 
 into their holes, not ten feet above my head. As 
 
 * A certain cat of my acquaintance sometimes brings in a stoat 
 from an adjacent warren, but she is invariably sick after a meal off 
 it. Yet she repeats the dose. J. A. OWEN.
 
 at 2>awn ot H>as. 229 
 
 to how it is done, that is only a matter for con- 
 jecture ; the action is gone through far too quickly 
 for you to make out its details. 
 
 To all appearance there is nothing in the farm- 
 yard but dirty trampled straw; there are one or 
 two heaps about that look as if one of the farm 
 hands had shaken some of it up in passing through 
 with his fork. Presently somewhat to our sur- 
 prise, for we are not thinking how the raised straw 
 heaps come to be there one of them heaves up, 
 the straw falls down on either side, and a great, 
 gaunt, red-eyed, vicious-looking sow rears herself 
 up and shakes the straw from her, followed by nine 
 perky-looking, nose-wriggling little snorkers. These 
 were very wide-awake all at once, as young pigs 
 usually are ; they rooted the straw up with their 
 snouts, buried beneath it, poking their heads up to 
 give out a snort and a "week-week-week" or two, 
 just to let the remainder of their brothers and 
 sisters know where they had got to ; then, with one 
 of those rushes which only young pigs can execute, 
 they all huddled round the sow, rubbing their 
 snouts against her legs and lean sides in the most 
 -affectionate manner, to dash off again all round the 
 yard, followed by their ever-watchful, vicious, grunt- 
 ing parent.
 
 230 2>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 In ranging over wild places where rough swine 
 with their litters have been turned out for the mast- 
 feed of a whole season, eyes and ears have to be or* 
 the alert ; for the creatures make rough hovers, 
 of brush-twigs, rough grass from the tussock-humps^ 
 and dead leaves. If you are unfortunate enough to 
 stumble on or over one of these, the sow will charge 
 with a rush, making the most desperate snaps with 
 those powerful jaws, which if they struck home 
 would break one's leg. Fortunately the alarm notes 
 proceeding from her disturbed progeny keep her 
 within a yard or so of the spot. It is best to clear 
 out and leave them all to it just as quickly as one 
 can. This hover-making is the hereditary habit 
 transmitted by their wild progenitors ; " what is. 
 bred in the bone will out in the flesh ". 
 
 The rattle of cart-horse hoofs sounds on the 
 pitching of the stables, and the carter and his mate 
 will soon be there to attend to their beasts ; so we 
 pass out of the yard again into the woodland road, 
 to come back when all is bathed in the light of a 
 golden eve : then the corn-fields above the farm will 
 show out as great patches of dead gold, the light 
 will creep up and over those fields until it rests on 
 the heather-covered hills directly above, which show 
 out in great masses of purple or pale rose, according
 
 at JDawn of JDa. 231 
 
 to the colour of the heath. Just before the sun 
 dips down, a great shaft of golden light falls for a 
 few moments on the blooming heather, causing it 
 to appear like some gigantic upland garden, a mass 
 of bloom.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 VOICES OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 IF you do not see any traces of aquatic birds in the 
 daytime, visit their haunts at night when certain 
 notes and calls, some of them faint, certainly, but 
 quite sufficient for a fowler's ear, will tell you 
 plainly that the fowl have either " flighted " to the 
 swamps, or left the thick cover that surrounds them, 
 in order to feed. 
 
 Rough weather is the best for night observations 
 if you wish to hear fowl on the inland swamps, or 
 passing over these. For two days I had been walk- 
 ing through the swampy hollows of the hills where 
 the cotton grass bents show without seeing enough 
 beautiful scenery excepted to place on half a 
 sheet of paper. " The thunder had got in the hills," 
 as our folks say, meaning that after drifting here 
 and there the clouds had gathered and massed 
 before discharging their electric forces. All wild 
 creatures know what is coming days beforehand, 
 
 and they act accordingly. Even the few butterflies 
 (232)
 
 IDoices of tbe mtabt . 233 
 
 that show flit along in the most listless fashion, as 
 if they were half dead with the close moist heat. 
 One of the fern-cutters that I fell in with, told me 
 that he hoped it would be a regular buster when it 
 did come " for tu kill the hoss-flies an' the stouts 
 off. I has a hew o' a job," he continued, " tu get my 
 critters out o' thet 'ere pond in the holler ; they're 
 in it as fur as they kin get, without swimmin', frum 
 marnin' tu night. Worrited most 'menjous, I can 
 tell 'ee ; some on 'em is as thin as hurdles, they 
 ain't able tu feed when the varrnin gits at 'em ; it's 
 nuthin' but swish, swishin' with the'r tails all day 
 long. I hopes as 'twill mek the old hills rattle ag'in, 
 an' rain cum as can drown all the bitin' lot on 'em." 
 I have known working men, indeed, have to leave 
 some of our fly-infested districts on account of their 
 sufferings. 
 
 Not a sound reaches us as we pass along ; now 
 and again a jay flirts up from the whortle bushes 
 which are now covered with fruit, but not a note 
 does it give out ; the birds flit up from the whorts 
 into the firs in perfect silence, a most unusual line 
 of conduct in this squawking family. It is all ow- 
 ing to the weather, which affects wild creatures in 
 the same way that it does commonplace humanity, 
 it gives all the dumps.
 
 234 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 The clouds lower by degrees until at last there is 
 only a line of light above the hills where the sun is 
 going down ; and we can see the stock out at feed, 
 making for shelter well known to themselves, some 
 going at their best paces ; and we are not slow in 
 imitating them. Some fine oaks are in our line of 
 tramp, but these we give a wide berth to, having 
 seen one of these trees split clean through by light- 
 ning, and the bark cut clean from another oak as if 
 bark-flayers had been at work on one side of it. 
 Nothing is more satisfying than to be out in the 
 open, away from trees, in a thunderstorm at night ; 
 and the darker it is the better. As our resting- 
 place, a country cottage, stands just on the edge of a 
 wide moor flat, one of the upland moors, we see the 
 gathering of nature's mighty forces to perfection 
 ^and hear them too, as they come up and out of the 
 west. A long-drawn sigh passes over the wooded 
 hills, which is followed by a vivid flash of blue 
 lightning and a muttered growl of thunder ; then 
 the vast hollows of " The Devil's Jump " are lit up, 
 showing Hindhead and Blackdown for a few 
 seconds. Then utter darkness, or what seems such, 
 after a fierce glare of light followed by a peal of 
 thunder that roars, cracks and rattles as if all the 
 trees on the hills and below them were crashing to
 
 IDoices of tbe IRfobt. 235 
 
 their fall. Next comes a blinding flash which lights 
 up the Weald, and is followed by a deafening peal ; 
 Ewhurst Hill, Holmbury, Leith Hill and distant St. 
 Leonards' lonely tower are all seen for a few seconds, 
 then there is darkness as before. A roar of wind 
 passes through the firs and some great heat drops 
 fall, causing us to make a rush for our place of 
 shelter, and not too soon, for a perfect torrent of 
 rain falls down and continues falling, without the 
 least abatement, for more than an hour. As my 
 host observes : " A dry huss is a lot better than a 
 lot o' wet land sich a night as this ". 
 
 Before the storm broke, and when it was at its 
 height, wild fowl were passing through it, all from 
 east to west on their way to the tide ; curlews, 
 redshanks and golden plover against the wind, not 
 tacking but cutting right through it, leaving rough 
 weather behind them. In the teeth of a gale, on 
 the darkest night if you face it, and fowl are moving, 
 it is easy to tell if they are in a line with it, or 
 tacking on one side, by their call notes. The lots 
 just noticed were not in the least put out, they were 
 giving out in complacent notes to each other, telling 
 that all was well. 
 
 Wild geese will honk out their calls to their 
 domestic relatives, grazing on the commons and
 
 236 H>rift from XonQsbore* 
 
 moors, and these in their turn answer in the greatest 
 excitement, honking and gabbling as if some fox 
 had come to inquire after their welfare. Wild ducks 
 will come at night to ponds that farmyard ducks 
 rest on, for in some secluded places it is not neces- 
 sary to house things at night-time. Yet here again 
 hereditary traits assert themselves ; swit-swit-swit- 
 swit-swit ! you hear, as they come in and drop with 
 just a splash on the water, followed by soft quarks 
 and querks from the wild birds, which are answered 
 at once by the farm ducks with the most rattling 
 quark-quark-quark-quarks, as if they were pleased 
 to make acquaintance. One house I visited was 
 close to a tidal mill-pond, in fact my bedroom win- 
 dow looked right over it, and here one could study 
 natural history in bed, as my friend used to say: 
 "We could hear the miller's ducks receive their 
 company without getting up to look at them ". 
 
 Large heaths and commons are within easy 
 walking distance of my home ; some of them on 
 the table-land of the hills, others are below them. 
 There we can go and listen to the creatures that 
 frequent them. Clear dry nights are the best for 
 purposes of observation. When a full moon is 
 shining high up in a cloudless sky, huge masses of 
 shadow are naturally thrown from the woods and
 
 IDotces of tbe IFUQbt 237 
 
 copses that surround some of the fields. All crea- 
 tures which are moving, either in the air or on the 
 ground, show out very distinctly where the light 
 falls ; but the ever-shifting shadows soon hide them ; 
 that is the reason nights without a moon are to be 
 preferred, that is if they are clear and dry. Glasses 
 are quite as useful to us at night as they are in the 
 daytime ; and it is not only very pleasant but instruc- 
 tive, to sit on the low dry banks by a lonely road on 
 a summer night and watch the wild life. All the fra- 
 grance from the cultivated slopes of the hills reaches 
 us, to mingle with the fresh sharp scent of the woods 
 and turf, whilst inhaling the delicious sweetness of 
 the honeysuckles that cover the bushes in profusion 
 all around. If I were asked which times were best 
 for wandering, I should at once reply : " In the gloam- 
 ing, at midnight and in the white silence of the 
 snow". If you only see the rabbits, which are 
 very numerous, it is sufficiently amusing. I often 
 spend hours in watching their manoeuvres. Very 
 amusing creatures they are, having the instinct of 
 self-preservation fully developed. There they are, 
 nearly opposite to us, on a bit of level sward ; how 
 many more there may be out there we can only 
 guess at, after counting up sixty we leave off. 
 Some of them are small, not so large as rats. As
 
 238 Drift from XotiQsbore. 
 
 they are not twenty yards away from where we are 
 sitting, we can see them as plainly as in daylight, 
 with powerful glasses. The little ones, like little 
 children when they first begin to cut about, give 
 their mothers plenty of work in looking after them, 
 for they will try and get to where they ought not to 
 go. That rabbit colony has come from the fir 
 warren at the back, and they have crossed the road 
 to feed and play on the open space where nothing 
 can get at them without giving some warning. 
 The youngsters chase each other hither and thither, 
 sit up on their haunches and flick the sides of their 
 faces with one, or at times both fore feet, then off 
 they go to better shelter, but too near the straggling 
 cover on the edges of that open space to suit their 
 parents. These drum out a warning on the turf, 
 a sign for them to return ; apparently not attended 
 to quickly enough to suit their mothers, which rush 
 over the turf after them ; and the frisking lot come 
 back quicker than they started. Some of the 
 three-parts-grown ones are having high jinks, leap- 
 ing over each other; good vaulting it is too, coming 
 down with a regular bounce ; you might fancy a 
 lot of school children were out bouncing their 
 hollow India-rubber balls. One of the tough old 
 elders of that lively communily which had been
 
 tDofces of tbe Uttabt 239 
 
 busily feeding, leaves off suddenly, and dots off to 
 one of the old mole hillocks near the centre of their 
 feeding space. On reaching it he stretches himself 
 out on it, just like a dead rabbit. If I had not 
 watched the action I should think that it was a 
 wired rabbit, dead and stiff, that was lying there. 
 For the time being all our interests are centred 
 on the grey elder, to find out the reason for that 
 action, for the rabbit has certainly good reasons 
 for behaving as he is doing. He half raises him- 
 self and cocks his ears, then he stretches out as 
 before. Presently up he jumps, and drums on that 
 old hillock in fine style. Off the whole lot rush, 
 he bringing up the rear, they fling themselves over 
 the road in one wild scurry, passing on either side 
 of us ; it is a rare bustle through the short stuff 
 and up the bank and into the warren. Something 
 stops one of them, and a short squeal rings out 
 with startling clearness, but only one, proving that 
 the creature that had been waiting for one of those 
 rabbits knows how to kill quickly and well. From 
 the rustle that catches our ear, some creature is 
 evidently following in the track of the rabbits. 
 A badger next bundles down on the road, throws 
 his head up and sniffs, his keen snout telling him 
 that a very different creature from a rabbit is near
 
 240 2>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 him. The way he scrambles up the bank and 
 shoots off in the same direction from which he 
 came is a sight to see. 
 
 I noted recently some remarkable instances of 
 the pig-like determination of this creature when it 
 had fixed on a certain course for itself; for the 
 brock has found out that no harm comes from a 
 two-legged creature who only stands still and looks 
 at him. 
 
 One very beautiful out-of-the-way spot that I fre- 
 quently visited late at night, when I was younger, 
 I look over at the present time occasionally, for it 
 still remains in all its primitive wildness. The road 
 that ran through it used not to bear the best of 
 characters, but that did not matter to me. It was 
 an old one-arched bridge that the trout-stream ran 
 under that had charms for me ; there we could hear 
 the cries of fowl from the mere that the stream sup- 
 plied, close below the bridge. Great sheaves of bul- 
 rushes, sedges, and oat-grass, flanked by old alders^ 
 are on the bog side of the bridge, through these 
 the clear stream swirls under the old arch with a 
 generous rush of water. On the side of the mere a 
 strip of firm peat-land ran by the side of the stream 
 for some little distance, fringed on the opposite side 
 by low alder scrub. The strip of firm peat-land, with
 
 IDofces of tbe mtabt. 241 
 
 the exception of the ordinary rush bunches, was 
 free from cover. The ordinary depth of the water 
 as it went merrily swirling down was about three 
 feet, and as one now living, some years older than 
 myself, used to say in those days when we fore- 
 gathered, " 'Tis a most 'menjous fishy-lookin' bit 
 o' water, an' there's fish in it; trout I reckins. 
 Can't ye mek us one o' them ''ere owlets as ye 
 knows on ? they wun't hev nothin' in the common 
 way." 
 
 " Where have you tried from ? " 
 " The bridge ; did ye think that I should be goat 
 enough tu git out o' bounds when I lives under the 
 squire? There's a big un cums frum under the 
 arch and goes in that 'ere hole on one side on it, 
 when the dims is cumin' on. Fix us up sumthin', 
 wun't ye? I got some rale good ash-suckers, all 
 sizes, in the wood -house." 
 
 One evening he sloped off with a tough, springy 
 sucker about five feet long, with three feet of stout 
 gut whipped on the tip of it. It could be well bent 
 without fear of breaking. A good perch hook well 
 whipped on the gut, with a cotton-wool body the 
 size of a small humble-bee, with two strips from a 
 white cock's hackle as wings, was his fly, or, as he 
 
 called it, his " owlet". I bade him keep out of sight 
 16
 
 242 Drift from Xonssbore. 
 
 and dib over the trout's hover with it. In less than 
 twenty minutes he was back with his fish, a short, 
 thick beauty over two pounds in weight. This he 
 said was " a bit o' head fishin' ". 
 
 Fern-owls our night swallows and their young, 
 are certain to flit and hover over roads, directly the 
 youngsters are strong enough on the wing. These 
 are lighter in their general colouring than the old 
 birds ; two that I examined were remarkably so. 
 It may be that it is easy work for the young birds, 
 as it is a well-known fact that lonely roads littered 
 over with loose stones, especially if the sun heats 
 them all through the day, are perfect miseries from 
 all the insect life, winged or crawling. Where wild 
 creatures can get their living easily, there you will 
 find them, if you know where to go. 
 
 Toads come out of their holes under the bushes, 
 and perambulate the roads for food during the 
 night. You can hear them dop-dop-dopping along 
 when they are in a hurry, and see them also. If 
 all the fine fellows I have picked up and looked at 
 had been brought home, I should by this time have 
 had a fine collection of aldermanic toads. How 
 large some of them really do grow I have not yet 
 discovered, for they are long-lived creatures. At 
 various times I have picked up six large toads, each
 
 Doices of tbe IKUabt 243 
 
 individual one filled up the palm of my hand when 
 held out straight for him to squat and gulp on, 
 exactly three inches in width this was. State- 
 ments in a former article of mine on British reptiles 
 were questioned by some who had perhaps never 
 seen these creatures in a state of nature. In favour- 
 .able localities for their full development, I venture 
 again to assert that they are much larger than the 
 ordinary-sized specimens generally seen by visitors 
 in our public museums. Large toads, like large 
 fish, move about at night I have at times heard 
 the cuckoo as late as eleven o'clock at night. I could 
 not state that he called all through the short summer 
 night, for something has caused him to shift for a 
 time ; very probably a brown owl stooped for him 
 as he was flirting his tail about on one of the tree 
 tops ; but directly the first faint light of the dawn 
 showed in the east, he was at it again in the same 
 part of the woods. Nightingales and woodlarks 
 contribute their portion of song, making the warm 
 slopes just off the crest of the hills ring again. 
 There you may hear the grasshopper-warbler wind- 
 ing up his roach-reel, for that is what it sounds like, 
 a short distance away. And far out on the wide 
 sheep-down tracts a bird is calling with a loud, 
 wild note, and another is answering him from one of
 
 244 Drift from XottQSbore. 
 
 the large fields near to us. These are great plovers,, 
 the stone curlews. Many more sounds you will hear, 
 too, from other creatures, as each in its own small 
 way is contributing to the concert of the voices of 
 the night.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AS THE SEASONS CHANGE. 
 
 JR.AIN, which was so needed, has fallen in successive 
 thunder-showers that have, as they term it, got in 
 the hills to stay for a time. This is literally true, 
 for if a stiff breeze does not carry the heavy clouds 
 away, they will mass up and keep hovering over 
 the high grounds for weeks. The woodland foliage 
 is now at its best ; it will soon begin to change, 
 but no real tones of warm colour can be seen yet. 
 Down by the river, aquatic growth flourishes in 
 rank luxuriance ; water-lilies in profusion boss out 
 and up from their broad, cool green pads, backed 
 by huge sheaves of bulrushed tangles of meadow- 
 sweet and purple loosestrife. Last, but not least, 
 are the patches of the sword-blade sedge or grass, 
 call it by either name as you please, that will, un- 
 less you use extreme caution in moving through, 
 cut your clothes or your flesh like a knife. On the 
 banks that are low just here, burdocks and thistles 
 
 <:an be seen in their prime ; the burrs on the docks 
 (245)
 
 246 Drift from Xonasbore. 
 
 are like thickly hung purple balls, finely contrasted 
 by the large dark-green leaves. As to the thistles- 
 that stand up as high as your breast, they are a 
 mass of carmine blooms, each bunch the size of a 
 breakfast-cup. Round about their roots the mole 
 throws up his hillocks and the nightingale croaks 
 to her brood to bid them leave their covert under 
 the dock stems, and pick from the loose crumbling 
 hillocks freshly turned choice morsels that were 
 too small for the black-coated digger's notice. He 
 has been called the blind mole, we know, but that 
 is a fiction ; when he runs about at times in the 
 hot sunshine, just put your finger down to him and 
 feel if he is blind. No ; he will fix it, and hang 
 like a little bull-dog. A pair of young goldfinches, 
 the first we have seen this year, are flitting about 
 the thistles, the seeds of which are not ripe yet for 
 the birds ; this is evidently only a preliminary in- 
 spection of the crop. The nightingales are not 
 left in undisputed possession of the mowdiwarps 
 (moleheaps), for the larger willow-wrens come for 
 their share. Robin will stand by the side of a 
 moving hill that the mole is working under, with his 
 tail up and his head cocked on one side. I very fre- 
 quently turn the earth of fresh hillocks over the sward 
 for the birds to visit after I have passed along.
 
 Hs tbe Seasons Cbange. 247 
 
 Refreshing showers cause creatures to be on the 
 alert, putting fresh life into them. Only a few days 
 back the voles were swimming among these lily- 
 pads ; but not one will venture there now, for pike 
 have left their deep hovers below, to feed just outside 
 the fringe of them. Judging from the vicious shoots 
 they make, small fry are having a lively time of it. 
 Fish will feed now the sun has nearly gone down 
 under the hills good fish. When most people 
 leave off is often the best time to fish for good 
 fish feed, and feed well, in the twilight, when all is 
 still. 
 
 Let us lean over the coping of this old grey bridge 
 to think a while. A wide bend of the river with 
 trees on either side is directly in front of us, and an 
 old mill, much greyer than the bridge we are on, 
 looms out through the trees in the distance. Be- 
 yond this the heather-covered hills are massed, a 
 soft sky floating over them saffron on the horizon, 
 deep warm grey above the tones softly blending, 
 without one single cloud-fleck to disturb the har- 
 mony of tones. 
 
 It is late in the evening, nearly nine o'clock, but 
 the soft bright after-glow brings all out so distinctly 
 that we can see the rings that the bleak make, rising 
 at the midges half-way down the bend of the river.
 
 248 Brift from 
 
 On one side of us some old rails keep the stock from 
 getting into a shallow swamp close to the main 
 high-road, so near to it that if you got over the rails 
 from the road you were in the swamp at once. I 
 have been casting my eyes over it from time to time, 
 just to gauge, mentally, the probable depth of squash 
 that some fine meadow-sweet was springing from 
 in fact have almost made up my mind to take a 
 bunch of it home, if I get mired over it. But just 
 when about to move for this floral venture, just 
 below, and not six feet from where I was standing, 
 querk, querk, querk, querk, querk, querk ! sounds, as 
 if from a duck with a wire cravat round its neck. 
 These sounds were followed by soft coodling peep, 
 peep, peeps ! The next moment, without the least 
 noise, I stretched myself out flat on the coping, the 
 extreme end of it, with my head hanging over, 
 looking directly down on a water-rail, hovering her 
 peepers on the nest close to. But her quick eye 
 saw something on the end of that coping-stone that 
 she had not seen ^before. Flop, flop, spit, spitter, 
 spit ! and as the water flicked up a little, there was 
 the nest visible, but she and her peeps were gone. 
 
 Fairly well acquainted as I am with the rail's 
 strange notes, heard from him from time to time 
 in equally strange places, I certainly was not pre-
 
 Hs tbe Seasons Gbange. 249 
 
 pared for the performance from the one just 
 startled. As I had not moved in the least from 
 my first position, there was a chance that she 
 would bring them back to the nest again ; for she 
 kept on with her querk, querk, querk ! and her 
 chicks peeped in to answer her. Then I saw the 
 oat-grass tassels nod and sway ever so gently ; she 
 was certainly bringing them back to the nest again. 
 But when within a yard of it, she climbed up a 
 spray of meadow-sweet, quite as quickly as any 
 cat ever climbed up a fence when a fox-terrier had 
 shortened her tail a little, and she saw once more 
 the strange termination of that coping-stone. 
 Then she shot down with a flop into the water 
 below, giving out short grunts, squeaks, and croaks 
 of the most extraordinary nature. You might call 
 them with perfect truth a jumble of strange 
 sounds as if some one was coughing with diffi- 
 culty and in pain, or a frog snoring away in the 
 joy of his heart when April showers were gently 
 falling, mixed with the squeaks from a rat in a 
 trap. All the time this single-handed concert was 
 going on, you could hear, chiming in now and 
 again, the peep, peep, peeps ! from her scattered 
 brood. As I am nearly six feet in height, and 
 almost sixteen stone in weight, the end of a coping-
 
 250 Drift from Xongsbore. 
 
 stone to rest on is not exactly a bed of roses ; and 
 if I sprawled on it until midnight she would not 
 come back again, so I left it ; but early next morn- 
 ing, as soon as it was fairly light, I was there 
 again, thinking I might by chance see her and the 
 chicks once more. But no such luck ; there was 
 the nest, but the birds were gone. When alarmed, 
 rails will, like others of the wader and swimmer 
 family, take their young from a place and quickly 
 make another home for them elsewhere. The 
 shifts and expedients of wild creatures, when you 
 have the rare good fortune to see them, are simply 
 wonderful when used merely for their own preser- 
 vation ; but when all their wits are brought into 
 play for the sake of their young, so that these may 
 not come to harm, some of the most innocent of 
 creatures will baffle you completely. 
 
 Pheasants and partridges all have their work set 
 out for them to find food for their broods and to 
 protect them. I have seen this protective instinct 
 carried out in a wonderful manner to suit the occa- 
 sion and the surroundings. One brood of fair-sized 
 partridges, I noted, were as much put out over a 
 couple of rooks as they would have been with crows. 
 For some reason, no doubt a good one, I have seen 
 specimens of the former spread-eagled recently.
 
 Hs tbe Seasons Cbanae. 251 
 
 We have given the rook his due at all times as 
 one of the farmer's best friends ; but now and again 
 he has sanguinary desires steal over him, to which 
 for want of moral firmness he gives way, and then he 
 suffers. The wonder is that when he is hard pushed 
 he does as little harm as he does. This last has 
 been a most favourable nesting season for all kinds 
 of birds ; yet in my travels to and fro and across 
 country, I have not noticed more of them about 
 than in less favourable seasons for nesting and 
 bringing up the broods. The orchards and fruit- 
 gardens may have something to do with this, for 
 folks do not shoot at birds that go there, except to 
 frighten them. I have seen the first indications of 
 the soft-billed migrants' gatherings recently. All de- 
 pends as to their final flitting on how much wet we 
 may get in August. Of insect life in the shape of 
 butterflies and moths there has been little in or on 
 any portions of our hunting-grounds. Just at present 
 there is a perfect mania for clearing off and rooting 
 up wild tangles, even by the river-side and by se- 
 cluded pools on private grounds. 
 
 As the seasons change, the ways and means of 
 various creatures change with them. Fish are af- 
 fected by the weather to a most exasperating 
 degree, from the angler's point of view : a long
 
 252 H>rttt front Xonasbore. 
 
 spell of fine weather completely upsets everything. 
 In the night-time large fish work their way from 
 their hovers over the shallows, into deep holes 
 shaded over by trees, leaving their real homes for 
 a time to prospect about a bit. There they are at 
 present, in various deep pools, swimming lazily to 
 and fro. A regular cruel sight to look at ; for they 
 are all good fish, ranging from one pound in weight 
 up to four pounds. Chafers, humble-bees, cherries, 
 grasshoppers, worms and the brightest of bright 
 minnows, are tried, all to no purpose. 
 
 The fish are simply glutted with bough-feed 
 the various creatures that drop from the trees into 
 the water and young birds at times ; and they re- 
 fuse contemptuously all the luxuries that are offered 
 them on the point of a hook. When a rush of fresh 
 water comes down from above, well stained from the 
 drainings of ploughed lands, these very same fish 
 will then take almost anything that is offered them. 
 
 " Look at the peewits, right away over the flats, 
 Craft there's a cloud of them roving about like a 
 lot of leaves in a gale of wind ; and just hark what 
 a row they are kicking up. And look, there goes 
 a good stand of golden plovers, right clean away 
 from the foreshores." 
 
 " I've sin 'em, my son, an' heard 'em fur sum
 
 Bs tbe Seasons Cbange. 253 
 
 time ; an' there's sumthin' else as I'll p'int out tu ye. 
 Jist look this way, out over the water, at that 'ere 
 lot o' flappin' an' cracklin' gulls a-comin' in. Old 
 Gorger Bolt was a-cracklin' on middlin' heavy this 
 marnin' at his boy, just 'cause he reckined as they 
 might as well go out as stop ashore, arter he'd bin 
 up half the night gitting the gear ready. 
 
 " Gorger is as wicious as a shark when he's 
 crabbed a bit. He told Biler his boy as he'd ram 
 a wet swab in his gills an' break the mop 'andle 
 over his figgerhead, if so be as he wus mutinous 
 enough tu say anuther word on that 'ere p'int o* 
 weather-gauge. 
 
 " The flight-shooters told him when they passed 
 his cabin this marnin' thet not one on 'em had got 
 a feather, let alone a bird. Gorger said the beach 
 smelt o' brimstone where they'd bin a-standin' talk- 
 in' tu him ; 'twas middlin' perlite talk, fur he ain't 
 noways pertickler at times. An' I knows as their 
 words will be proved afore two hours' watch is over. 
 They all on 'em sweers like hoss-troopers, but there 
 ain't one on 'em could tell a damned lie not if they 
 put their shoulder out o' j'int a-trying at it. 
 
 " The fowl was fidgety they said, a-shootin' to an* 
 fro all over the marshes ; an' they showed like a lot 
 o' falling shootin' -stars, hollerin' out most surpris-
 
 254 2>rift from Xon^sbore* 
 
 in'. The tide wus right out ; but the fust o' the 
 flow wus a-ripplin' the sands, an' all sorts o' fowl 
 wus there, hundreds of 'em, not a-feedin', but a- 
 dabblin' an' a-washin' in the tide-plashes. An' all 
 the lot on 'em showed double on the sands, as if 
 they wus a-standin' on lookin'-glasses. That 'ere 
 ain't a healthy sight, not by no manner o' means ; 
 fur ye see, my son, that if the sands is all a-brim- 
 min' a-top with water on the werry fust ripple o' 
 the flow, there's a desprit lot o' rough water back 
 somewhere a-forcin' it. An' they told him when 
 the sun riz out o' the water, as the sands wus lit up 
 all light-like as if they wus kivered in snow. Then 
 the light went away ag'in as quick as it had cum 
 out. Gorger is a rum old fish ; he ain't werry 
 hansum, an' he ain't werry smooth in his ways at 
 times, but he ain't no fool he niver have bin. I've 
 heard him say lots o' times if so be as folks would 
 on'y notice the ways and woices o' fowl a leetle 
 more 'an what sum on 'em do, there wouldn't be 
 quite so much small wreckage about." 
 
 Gorger looked seawards, and got his boat as far 
 up the shingle as he could get her with the windlass, 
 for he knew what was coming. 
 
 And it did come with a rush without any pre- 
 liminary warnings : right in from open water great
 
 Hs tbe Seasons Cbangc* 255 
 
 rollers broke and raced, roaring and hissing over the 
 sands in a way that even fisher-folks very seldom wit- 
 nessed, fully crested ; the white horses had got the 
 bits in their mouths this time ; they leapt over the 
 massive piles and rushed up the beach. I was flat 
 down on the extreme edge of the beach, where it 
 joins the sand-hills, with my head resting on my 
 folded arms, looking at that howling, screaming, 
 hissing, boiling waste of waters : there was no 
 standing upright against the storm. 
 
 Snow has fallen, the first snow of the season, on 
 the foreshores and the flats ; it has been what they 
 call a free fall of soft snow, which means it has not 
 frozen after coming down, and it is of some depth, a 
 foot of it at the least, all over the place ; no winds 
 are blowing, so that it has not drifted. This is just 
 the sort of weather to make the fowlers cheerful, for 
 it tames the fowl a bit ; they are so anxious to find 
 feeding quarters in case the worst should come, and 
 they are driven in from open water, that they relax 
 a little of their usual astute vigilance. 
 
 There were the unwritten laws, yet strict rules of 
 the foreshores, when I ranged them in the past. If 
 any bird-stalker wished to study fowl he had to go 
 over the marshes and come in on a certain point where
 
 256 5>rift from Xoncjsbore. 
 
 they passed or congregated, and stay there; and, if he 
 left it, go back by the same way that he came. A 
 man without a gun, walking down six miles of salt- 
 ings, in front of fowlers, would naturally put fowl up 
 and make them fidgety, spoiling all the chances. 
 Sometimes if heavy shots are expected, at least if 
 there is a prospect of them, two, or at the most three, 
 fowlers, well known to each other, will post up to- 
 gether under the lee of the sea-wall and agree to 
 divide the shots, if they have luck, hit or miss ; that 
 means that if one of the shooter's guns snaps they 
 do at times the accident does not tell against him, 
 he has his share. A bullet in a fowling-piece, cased 
 in a bit of kid glove, well greased and well rammed 
 home, is all right when fired over open water ; for 
 if the object fired at is missed, no damage is done ; 
 but when a bullet comes skipping over a creek and 
 lodges in the base of the sea-wall opposite, the 
 remarks made on the man that fired it will not be 
 of a complimentary nature. 
 
 The full meaning of the old saw, " Time and tide 
 wait for no man," is realised on the foreshores in 
 seeking to gain the daily bread. All craft are not 
 able to make the harbour tide, for those that are 
 far out at sea, the long liners, are, as a rule, the last to 
 come in ; if the tide turns when they are making for
 
 Hs tbe Seasons Cbange. 257 
 
 home they have to anchor down the flats, a serious 
 inconvenience, for it means for the men a long 
 tramp on top of the sea-wall and over the marshes 
 in order to reach their homes. Besides which, if 
 there should be a fair demand for their catches, the 
 boats are out again on the next tide, and it is a 
 case of victualling up, and being off again to sea. 
 Many of the crews passed the house that I once 
 lived in, and I knew them all, as many claimed 
 kinship with me on my mother's side. Some of 
 her family were the most influential members of that 
 fishing community. Very few incidents of interest 
 occurred on our line of coast at that time that we 
 were not acquainted with. 
 
 One old friend of my boyhood has recently passed 
 away there at the ripe age of ninety-seven years. 
 " What cheer, my son ? " it would be ; " here's 
 a chance fur ye, a night cruise ; the two boats 
 is layin' off the Snapper Flats, one on 'em is 
 goin' down, afore she makes open watch, by 
 Halstow an' Gillingham. She left some o' her 
 gear at the anchor last time she cruised that way; 
 t'other one will run down the Swale, an' we'll put 
 ye ashore in the skiff when it's fair daylight on any 
 o' the marshes as is within a mile o' a sea-wall." 
 
 I choose to cruise down the Swale, and they promise 
 17
 
 258 Drift from Xonasbore, 
 
 to call for me before the old folks turn in for the 
 night. 
 
 The moon is up and the tide full, and the wind 
 sets right as we step on board after a long tramp 
 down. The first thing our skipper does is to sing 
 out for his son who lies in the bunk below, for it 
 could only be called a cabin by courtesy, bidding 
 him get out the " Ager mixter " as company was 
 aboard. It was a weird look-out, that lonely range 
 of snow-covered flats, grey in the moonlight, and 
 the dark Swale flowing in between them. As the 
 same species of fowl visited the flats season after 
 season, their call notes were well known, but their 
 movements were then as they are at the present 
 time, of the most erratic nature. Why they should, 
 under apparently favourable circumstances for their 
 feeding, rush overhead in hosts, each species calling 
 wildly, is still a mystery. 
 
 Our tight little craft slips through the water al- 
 most without a sound ; you can just hear the swish 
 of the water as her bows cut through it and that is 
 all, for no waves ever trouble the Swale. A large 
 gaggle of black geese (brents), as the boat nears 
 them, rise from the water where they have been 
 resting after feeding on the goose-grass (zostera), but 
 although we are all eyes and ears we are not able
 
 Hs tbe Seasons Cbanoe. 259 
 
 to make them out before they rise well off the 
 water. One lot of fowl will soon alarm others that 
 may be near them, if put up when feeding or resting 
 at night ; then there is a row. The geese give out 
 their honking notes, curlews scream and call, with 
 the redshanks to help them ; snipes shoot to and fro 
 over the creek, scape, scaping their loudest they 
 are very noisy at night when on the wing ; far more 
 so than one would credit. And just to fill in the 
 breaks, soft querks and we-ohs come in, accom- 
 panied by strange pipings and whistlings. All this 
 we hear without being able to distinguish the form 
 of one single bird ; you can see forms moving in 
 company and that is all. When fowl are moving 
 over the snow at night, low down, as they do when 
 they rise from the creek, and a gale is blowing, more 
 than one of our fowling friends has fired at the 
 shadows moving over the snow instead of at the 
 fowl. 
 
 One night we were out on the marsh with half 
 a moon out overhead, and we almost walked in 
 on a heron which stood humped up in a rush 
 clump. Close as the bird was to us, we could not 
 make him out plainly enough for a shot. We were 
 out fowling ; and if ever a man requires to use his 
 wits, it is when he is out on the water in a flat punt
 
 260 2>rift from Xongsbore. 
 
 at night. " You'll see sumthin' when it gits a bit 
 lighter," says my friend ; " we shan't be long afore 
 we drops anchor now. Do ye know the bearin's o' 
 the 'Coy [decoy] frum here, an' the Isle o' Sheppey 
 an' Thanet ? You'll see sum on 'em as we've put up 
 in our cruise mek fur all three o' them places ; the 
 geese hev made fur open water a good hour ago. 
 'Tis most curious as sum o' them 'ere yaller French 
 herons [bitterns] is on the ma'shes ag'in. Last 
 month I wus doin' this very cruise down, an' thet 
 lopin' son o' a gun, Waxey Small, shot three on 'em 
 in one day, an' a Jack hern with 'em ; he sold the 
 bunch on 'em, all four, fur three half-crownds, fur 
 stuffin'. I'll put ye ashore on the ma'sh he shot 
 'em on. I've heerd say as they was about a lot 
 in Waterloo time, they're queer-lookin' critters, an' 
 it's wery likely by the'r bein' about ag'in as we shall 
 hev a go in with sum o' they furriners afore long. 
 We ain't fit with none on 'em fur sum time now ; a 
 good go in with broadsides an' cutlashes would do 
 sum on 'em good. Here they cum, they're up fur 
 fightin'." The mallards were first, followed by 
 wigeon and dunbirds (poachards) making in a 
 direct line for the decoy. The greater part of the 
 mallards we knew would come in there, but the 
 wigeon and poachards would "flight" on to the Essex
 
 Hs tbe Seasons Cbange, 26 1 
 
 oozes and saltings, on the opposite shores. Some 
 of the smaller lots we could not make out, as they 
 were making away from us through the misty light, 
 for Sheppey and Thanet. 
 
 Green fields, noble trees, and the whole range of 
 one of our beautiful Surrey hills are in front of the 
 window of the room in which I now write. This 
 locality is a perfect paradise for woodland songsters, 
 yet through it all, unbidden, so strong are heredit- 
 ary instincts and early impressions, memory brings 
 back to me, as if I had only left them for one short 
 year, the night voices ringing out over the waters 
 and the flats of our longshore. 
 
 THE END.
 
 DATE DUE
 
 000687102 4