and far to the westward, those hills which the exiled Stevenson remembered so well:
"Grey recumbent tombs of the dead in desert places,
Standing stones on the vacant wine-red moor,
Hills of sheep, and the homes of the silent vanished races,
And winds, austere and pure:
Be it granted me to behold you again in dying,
Hills of home! and to hear again the call;
Hear shove the graves of the martyrs the peewees crying,
And hear no more at all."
Where the Wampool empties its waters geese and ducks were in thousands, but the fowler, whether tramping the slub or gliding cautiously down the gutters, found his quarry hard to approach; the wary spoil-sport curlew was ever ready to sound the alarm. Wigeon, drifting seaward on the ebb, were distinct enough, but the grey geese, far away on the sands, were impossible to identify, though some at closer quarters were undoubtedly grey-lags. On the marsh were a few barnacles, finding the saltings provided a substitute for half-frozen zostera; hooded crows were lifting shellfish to drop them from a height on the hard sand, smashing the tightly shut valves. The winter range of the hoodie and carrion overlap at Solway, and we found the latter bird gorging on a mallard which some sportsman had failed to gather.
Bar-tailed godwits, occasional winterers on Solway, were with the oyster-catchers, or flying in little parties with sharp, barking cries; twice or three times we heard the triple note of the whimbrel, a much rarer bird as a winter visitor. With the thaw the golden plover and lapwings returned to the fields, hunting the softening sods; during the frost they joined the more maritime waders. Fieldfares and redwings, larks and starlings were all in the fields, and the last fed with rooks and daws on the marsh as well as inland.
