NORTHWARD WITH THE SHORE-BIRDS 235 



freezing cold. A blustering northwest wind lashed the bays 

 into white-caps and made the lobster-boat skim along the 

 wide lagoon like a shearwater. We first landed on the side 

 opposite the plover resort, where was a series of ponds simi- 

 lar to those of East Point, where we hoped to find a variety 

 of shore-birds. Numbers of Least Sandpipers were feeding, 

 singly or in pairs, along the margins of the lakelets, with 

 a few of the Ring-necks. It was so cold that I had fairly to 

 run to get warm, after the cold sail in the boat, as I beat 

 about in hope of flushing a sandpiper, snipe, or wild duck 

 from its nest. One of the company came racing and puffing 

 after me, saying he was having a hard time to catch up. All 

 we found was the nest of a Horned Grebe out in some reeds in 

 quite deep water. It seemed natural on such a cold day to 

 see a flock of Common Crossbills feeding among the spruces. 



We ate dinner behind some sand-dunes above the beach, 

 and then squared away for the home of the plovers, some 

 two miles over the sparkling water. As we approached, we 

 were sorry to see several men and boys with pails walking 

 about over the stretch of sand and grass, followed by an 

 angry company of hovering terns. They proved to be French 

 fishermen, gathering eggs for food. The Ring-necked Plovers 

 were here, as before, running anxiously about along the 

 sandy margin, and I feared that we were too late. When the 

 men showed us what they had found, I was glad to see that, 

 besides the terns' eggs, they had taken but one set of four 

 eggs of the Piping Plover. 



It occurred to me that these fellows might aid us in our 

 search. They could not speak a word of English, and I 

 imagine that their French dialect was none of the purest. 

 However, we unlimbered our college French as best we 

 could. Each sally brought forth a roar of laughter from the 

 rest of the party, as the air became redolent with phrases 



