Black-headed gull

And but for that intellectual face, you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners, he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

In one field a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plough.

We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are sea birds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the Broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.

Here we are again by the broadside, according to appointment, and here is our friend the skating parson, clad from top to toe in wildfowler's attire, and but for that intellectual face you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

In one field a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plough.

We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir-trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are sea-birds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the Broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.

Here we are again by the Broadside, according to appointment, and here is our friend the skating parson, clad from top to toe in wildfowler's attire, and but for that intellectual face you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

In one field, a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plow.

We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are seabirds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.

Here we are again by the broadside, according to appointment, and here is our friend the skating parson, clad from top to toe in wildfowler's attire, and but for that intellectual face, you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

And a glance at his splendid collection of representative local birds all fallen to his own gun, we bid him adieu, having as our share a couple of wildfowl, affording another illustration of Kelper's lines as we share in the plunder but pity the birds.

End of chapter one Chapter two of Man and Nature on the Broads by Arthur Henry Patterson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain February in Broadland At dusk steers homeward with a plenteous freight The crazy vessel groans beneath the weight A tidy housewife waits his coming home Gets dry apparel and cleans up her room And spreads a homely plenty o'er his board From Life of a Fenman, 1771 The countryside has assumed a bleak and dreary aspect The snows of January have given way before the drizzly rainfall As our train rattles along through the barren fields which lie on either side our route And spread away to the distant woodland Or are lost in the horizon We cannot fail to notice the barrenness which characterises the environs of Broadland In the month of February, Fildike Here and there, Farmer Giles or his neighbours Have fastened an unwilling team to the plough For it is time the peas and beans were sown The horses are somewhat restive Their spell of idleness that has made them impatient of restraint is ended And hard work lies before them Contented Hodge has been dressing and repairing the hedges And lopping the willows and poplars Their shorn limbs lie alongside the hawthorns In one field, a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plough We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are seabirds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.

Here we are again by the broadside, according to appointment, and here is our friend the skating parson, clad from top to toe in wildfowler's attire, and but for that intellectual face you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

In one field, a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plough.

We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are seabirds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.

And but for that intellectual face, you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners, he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

and a glance at his splendid collection of representative local birds all fallen to his own gun, we bid him adieu, having as our share a couple of wildfowl, affording another illustration of Kelper's lines as we share in the plunder but pity the birds.

End of chapter one Chapter two of Man and Nature on the Broads by Arthur Henry Patterson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain February in Broadland At dusk steers homeward with a plenteous freight The crazy vessel groans beneath the weight A tidy housewife waits his coming home Gets dry apparel and cleans up her room And spreads a homely plenty o'er his board From Life of a Fenman, 1771 The countryside has assumed a bleak and dreary aspect The snows of January have given way before the drizzly rainfall As our train rattles along through the barren fields which lie on either side our route and spread away to the distant woodland or are lost in the horizon we cannot fail to notice the barrenness which characterises the environs of Broadland in the month of February, Fildike Here and there farmer Giles or his neighbours have fastened an unwilling team to the plough for it is time the peas and beans were sown The horses are somewhat restive Their spell of idleness that has made them impatient of restraint is ended and hard work lies before them Contented Hodge has been dressing and repairing the hedges and lopping the willows and poplars Their shorn limbs lie alongside the hawthorns In one field a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plough We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are seabirds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.

Here we are again by the broadside, according to appointment, and here is our friend the skating parson, clad from top to toe in wildfowler's attire, and but for that intellectual face, you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners, he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

In one field, a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plow.

We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are seabirds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.

Here we are again by the broadside, according to appointment, and here is our friend the skating parson, clad from top to toe in wildfowler's attire, and but for that intellectual face, you might for all the world take him for a fenman.

He is none of your namby-pamby individuals who portray life as a perpetual season of psalm-singing and breast-smiting.

Why we need remain miserable sinners, he is at a loss to know.

But whilst he lures to brighter worlds and leads the way, he believes in securing all the enjoyment in the present world possible, so long as such pursuit is in accord with sound judgment and Bible truths.

In one field, a number of graceful white birds are eagerly following the plough.

We have time just sufficient to identify them as the train shoots into and through a belt of fir trees, and the little Broadland station looms into view.

They are seabirds, and none other than the black-headed gulls, Larus ridibundus, whose nests will be found in the early summer upon the swampy ronds that margin some of the broads.

Food has been scarce of late, and a meal of fat red earthworms becomes a feast as well as a luxury.