TWENTY YEARS ON THE NORFOLK FENS.
By Last C. Farman.
Before entering into details respecting the fauna of the district in which I reside, it will perhaps be best to describe the locality.
The little old-time village of Haddiscoe nestles on the verge of the watery vale of the Waveney, and abuts the main turnpike road. In a north-easterly direction is situate the famous town of Great Yarmouth, some eight miles distant as the crow flies. About the same amount of mileage would take us to the easternmost point of England, viz. the town of Lowestoft. Immediately on passing through the village, we reach the celebrated Norfolk fen or marshland, stretching away in a northerly direction as far as the eye can reach, its flatness only broken by the numerous drainage mills dotted about like sentinels. Looking in a north-easterly direction one sees the Herringfleet Hills, covered with heather and bracken and crowned by tall firs. It is but two miles from the village to these hills, to reach which we must cross one of the narrowest parts of the fens by the main road, locally called the dam, bent and twisted about like some huge serpent, and studded on either side with closely planted willows. At the foot of these hills meanders the old brown Waveney, from which this valley takes its name. In the midst of the fir trees we have referred to, ripple the waters of Fritton Lake. This lake during the winter months teems with wildfowl, and decoy pipes are successfully worked, some hundreds of Duck and other species of wildfowl annually having their necks wrung by the decoyman's hands. When winter storms burst upon us, thousands of wildfowl congregate on this lake, and flighting at night they scatter around the district, dropping all over the fens into the weedy ditches and shallows. It is almost needless to state that in such a district, and despite the revenue tax, wildfowlers are numerous, and on favourable nights an almost incessant fusillade
