I had had a
glimpse of the river before, as, when driving to visit a neighbour, we
had crossed it at one of the fords and I had wished to get down and
run on its moist green low banks, and now that desire would be
gratified. It was for me a tremendously long walk, as we had to take
many a turn to avoid the patches of cardoon and giant thistles, and by
and by we came to low ground where the grass was almost waist-high and
full of flowers. It was all like an English meadow in June, when every
grass and every herb is in flower, beautiful and fragrant, but tiring
to a boy six years old to walk through. At last we came out to a
smooth grass turf, and in a little while were by the stream, which had
overflowed its banks owing to recent heavy rains and was now about
fifty yards wide. An astonishing number of birds were visible--chiefly
wild duck, a few swans, and many waders-ibises, herons, spoonbills,
and others, but the most wonderful of all were three immensely tall
white-and-rose-coloured birds, wading solemnly in a row a yard or so
apart from one another some twenty yards out from the bank. I was
amazed and enchanted at the sight, and my delight was intensified when
the leading bird stood still and, raising his head and long neck
aloft, opened and shook his wings.
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