were in danger from enemy submarines, our sailors painted them with
queer stripes and bars, to make it hard for the enemy to see them.
Nature has marked the Ringed Plover on the same plan. The feathers are
so coloured and the colours are so arranged that, once among the grey,
yellow, black, and white pebbles on the beach, the little bird is
invisible. It is as if the earth had swallowed him up.

The eggs, too, are just as hard to find. There is no nest to "give the
game away"; and the eggs look just like the pebbles amongst which they
are laid. The young ones are protected from their enemies in the same
way, and they crouch, as still as death, amid the stones which they so
much resemble.

Now let us leave the beach and look for the Redshank on the mud-flats.
Many birds would starve there, but the Redshank is quite happy, as
Nature has fitted him for his life in such a place. His long, red
legs--from which he gets his name--are for wading in the shallow, muddy
creeks he loves. Those wide-spreading feet keep him from sinking in the
mud.

The long beak is for probing. As a rule the Redshank digs for his
dinner, though he also picks up any worms or other food on the surface;
but he is nearly always seen probing the mud.

Like all the shore birds, Redshanks are very wary. They have no hedges
or trees for hiding-places, and so must always be on the watch. No
sooner does the Redshank spy you than he is up and, with a shrill
whistle of alarm, flies quickly away.

The marshes are the home of many a bird like the Redshank. They are all