FEATHERED TOURISTS 



cloud of sand-hoppers which arose at each roUing 

 over of a bunch of weed. The beaks of the turn- 

 stones worked hke pistons, each down-thrust repre- 

 senting the diminution of the race of Orchestia 

 platensis by one. These unfortunately over-edible 

 little beings have themselves travelled far over the 

 world, probably clinging to weed and driftwood, 

 and today they range from Nova Scotia to Brazil 

 and are also at home on the shores of the Mediter- 

 ranean. 



As the turnstones rolled their weed on this windy 

 day, hundreds of the sand-hoppers leaped so high 

 into the air that they were caught by the wind and 

 carried down over the white sand. Four leasts, a 

 semipalmated and a sanderling scurried and ran, 

 first rushing up close to the log, then, as a barrage 

 of hoppers passed overhead, they would fan out and 

 tear down the beach, chasing and finally capturing 

 the particular game they had selected. I could tell 

 the direction and the number of leaps of the crus- 

 tacean by the dodgings and stops of the feathered 

 hunter. Now and then a particularly sporting 

 Orchestia would leap and be wind-blown to the very 

 ocean's edge, when one of the sandpipers would 

 wade into the ripples breast-high to retrieve it. 



Low down on the beach n solitary cool-gray pip- 

 ing plover and an equally exquisite and dainty 

 semipalmated plover fed in their timid, hysterical 

 way. They were too dignified to chase sand-hoppers. 

 With my telescope I could see every feather, every 

 fearful glance of their great eyes, and could even 



135 



