In the Spartina with the Swallows 117 



the Swallows roost. It requires the persistent efforts and full 

 attention of the naturalist to show you where and how his favorite 

 bird goes to rest and how it sets out and enters upon the duties 

 and pleasures of another day. You have to be after nightfall, 

 alone with the mosquitos and other pests, in the wide, wet and 

 pathless marsh, and again before the faintest glimmer announces 

 the approach of day. 



But select a day in the latter part of August or the first half 

 of September, and follow me. We are up early, to be on the 

 grounds before 5 a. m. ; the stars are vanishing, one after the other, 

 and the first dawn appears on the eastern horizon : the air is cool 

 and misty, the grass loaded with heavy dew, but we have to plow 

 our way through as best w^e can. By previous observation we have 

 located the whereabouts of our birds, and we are now fast ap- 

 proaching their sanctum, all alive and alert for the expected dis- 

 closures. 



Before this, only the hooting of the Barred Owl in the distant 

 woods had broken the silence, but now comes from the depth of his 

 private retreat, the sleepy 'seewick' of the Henslow's Sparrow, and 

 at the same time the weak but lively ' chip chip churr ' of the Short- 

 billed Marsh Wren. ' Pink, pink, pink ' exclaims the Bobolink, whom 

 we have startled from his slumber of repose, and, as we advance, 

 up go some Swallows, one by one. to the right, to the left, in front 

 of us, not in masses or bunches, but singly, every few yards one 

 or two flying up, silent, and on wings heavy with dew. 



Dawn has been making fast progress the last few minutes, and 

 we can see quite a little distance through the misty air. Now is 

 the time when the Swallows begin of their own accord to lea,ve 

 their perch down in the depths of the spartina and fly with heavy 

 wing through the cool and foggy layer below into the clearer 

 atmoshere above, where the sun's first rays will soon dispel the 

 chilly dampness of their plumage. 



While we are still absorbed in the astounding spectacle, daylight is 

 stealing quietly into the novel scene, and discloses the presence of 

 greater and greater numbers of Swallows as far as the eye can reach. 

 Many have gained enormous heights, and are soaring majestically in the 

 sun-kissed zenith. Not so voiceless as the Swallows do the Bobolinks 

 leave the roost. Their pink is continually in the air, and numerous par- 

 ties are seen passing over, drifting into all directions of the compass. 

 Some alight again, all in their yellow traveling suits, with the exception 

 of one who has a little song for us and wears a somewhat mottled garb 

 with whitish rump. Long-stretched flocks of Redwings pass in one 

 direction, troops of Frackles in another ; but. on the whole they do not 



