2i8 ADVENTURES AMONG BIRDS 



native boy on his big horse drawing up the canvas 

 bucket; the man by the well catching the hoop as 

 it comes to the surface and directing the stream of 

 clear cold water into the long wooden troughs. But 

 the thing to see is the crowd of beasts, the flocks and 

 herds gathering before noon at the accustomed spot, 

 first seen coming in troops and lines, walking, trotting, 

 galloping from all that shadeless illimitable expanse 

 where the last liquid mud in the dried pools has been 

 sucked up. What a violent crowd ! What a struggling 

 and what an uproar of bellowings, whinnyings and 

 multitudinous bleatings! And what dreadful blows 

 of horns and hoofs rained on each other's tough 

 hides! For they are all mad at the sight and smell 

 of water, and only a few at a time have room to 

 drink at the trough. 



But the crowding and fighting and drinking are 

 now ended; even the sheep, the last to get to the 

 water, have had their fill and streamed away over 

 the plain once more, and the spilt water lying in 

 pools at the side of the long wooden troughs is visited 

 by crowds on crowds of little birds — small crested 

 song-sparrows, glossy purple cow-birds, with other- 

 coloured troupials, the "starlings" of the New 

 World; and tyrant-birds of divers colours — olive- 

 green, yellow, chestnut, black and white and grey 

 and many more; doves, too, and finches in great 

 variety. The best of these were the goldfinches, in 

 close little flocks and in families, the young birds 

 clamouring for food and drink with incessant shrill 

 tremulous reedy cries. 



