when I came flown away. They are, indeed, wonderfully quiet this morning (compared, at least, with yesterday), hardly a bird running (none just now), but all sitting and sunning themselves; for one rising and running, or rising merely, becomes at once visible. It is a fine sunny day, but was fine and sunny in the morning yesterday too. It is, however, I think, somewhat less cold.
September 22nd.—Between 3 and 4 a.m. a violent storm was blowing, with, as I thought, rain, and I was anxious to see how this weather might affect the birds. At daylight, though not quite so rough, it was still blowing almost a gale. No rain was falling, nor do I think any had fallen. A west wind; the western part of the sky clear. I first went to my old watch-place on edge of amphitheatre, expecting to find the birds assembled there, as they had flown up yesterday from that direction; but, on searching with the glasses, I could not discover any. (It was quite light, probably between 5.30 and 6, but had forgotten to look at clock before starting.) I then walked to same place as yesterday, and, sitting with my face turned towards where I had come from, waited for the birds, hoping to be able both to watch their flight up and mark their point of departure. I first noted, however, that some birds (possibly a good number, though I could only make out six or seven) were sitting in the heather on other side of bank, in same place as before. This long bank, for the most part covered with bracken, dividing the moor, and approaching in one place near a patch of open wood, gives fine opportunities for patient watching. I watched, however, in vain—no birds appeared; and, when I judged it to be about nine or later, I thought it no use to stay longer. It may perhaps be on account of the very strong stormy wind inclining them to lie close, for I do not suppose they had flown up before I came, so much earlier than on the two preceding mornings.
As I am on the point of going five birds fly up, but on reaching bank they shear off, and fly right away instead of going down amongst the others; may possibly have seen me. They did not come from direction of the amphitheatre as on former occasions.
In reflecting on the incident of the Hawk and Plover, as witnessed by me on morning of 20th, I begin to think I may have misinterpreted it—undervalued it, so to speak. At the time it
