THE MUSEUM 



139 



finds ready sale, the purchaser often 

 assuminj; that the cross appeared up- 

 on the shell in nature. 



"During the last year the record ob- 

 tained was as follows: San Diego 

 county produced 124,210 pounds of 

 abalane meat and shell, valued at $3-, 

 234; Los Angeles county, 5,000 

 pounds, and Monterey county 3,700 

 pounds. In all about $10,000 is real- 

 ized for the yearly catch. 



"Abalone pearls are found loose in 

 the folds of the animal or attached to 

 the shell. In the latter case they are 

 broken off and sold by the lot. Oc- 

 casionally perfect pearls are found, 

 which bring a large price; but the im- 

 perfect ones sell to tourists and curi- s- 

 ity seekers for small sums." 



r 



The Marsh Hawk. 



it ircKS /iiiJsonicus.) 

 Imagine a bright, sunny day on the 

 marshes. Far upon every side spreads 

 a mighty level of mingled drabs and 

 greens, where the new growths strug- 

 gle to hide the old. In the distance, 

 upon the one hand, vague, purplish 

 masses, like low-ljing clouds, tell 

 where the grand old woods ring that 

 side of the wet lands; turn about, 

 and far away a continuous flashing 

 with flecks of white in ceaseless move- 

 ment prove that the bosom of the lake 

 is restless even upon so soft a day. 

 Above all, the grand dome of flawless 

 blue, and through the centre of the 

 scene the broad, currentlcss creek, 

 winding like a silver serpent following 

 its sleepy, lazy way. Such is the 

 home of the Marsh Hawk. 



It is a restful picture, but there is 

 wild life about. Here and there in the 

 coarse grass a gleam of water hints of 

 placid pools where the piedbilled 

 grebes travel and go under with an 

 oily movement which scarce creates a 

 ripple. Grave, slate-tinted coots 

 slowly cruise along the borders of the 

 creek, while from tht cover well-hid- 

 den rails indulge in wheezy merriment 

 and send forth rasping queries as to 



how things go outside. A blue-wing 

 slips by at quarter speed, for there is 

 no danger now, and an old mallard 

 rises on silent wings and winnows low 

 over the grass to some better pool. 

 He is in no hurry, hence his flight is 

 noiseless. 



A redwing blackbird in ebony uni- 

 form and glowing epaulets rocks upon 

 a bending stalk and flutes his cheery 

 challenge to the accompaniment of the 

 marsh wren's wee snare drum. A 

 snipe bores off in the eje of the indo- 

 lent breeze to where dozens of his 

 fellows are feeding, and mellow pipings 

 float from muddy borders and shal- 

 lows where plover and sandpiper to t 

 or wade at will. Ominous, dark and 

 resolute, a narrow winged peregrine 

 dashes across the view, while all swim- 

 ming life founders and all wading life 

 seeks cover, for well they know the 

 remorseless freebooter, nor will they 

 reappear until that fearful form is lost 

 in blue distance. And throughout the 

 grass, viewless and unsuspected, stand 

 or crouch the silent feathered folk — 

 the short-eared owls, the bitterns, and 

 others that keep solemn vigil ove 

 their own affairs. 



Away across the marsh a dark speck 

 appears. It soon resolves itself into a 

 large, brownish bird, whose broad 

 wings ply with easy, measured strokes 

 (it never sails), as it beats the marsh- 

 es as well-trained setter would work 

 in quest of game. To and fro it veers 

 and tacks, its telescopic eye reading 

 at a glance each riddle of the snarl "of 

 grass below, and presently it "cuts 

 down" to seize its favorite prey, an 

 unwary, short-tailed field mouse. The 

 bird comes on, but by some myster- 

 ious instinct it appears to know exact- 

 ly where you are concealtd, and it 

 passes that spot beyond the reach of 

 any ordinary gun. Its .movements 

 are, so far as you can tell, merely 

 whimsical, as it carefully swings from 

 you, but wait until 30U know this 

 hawk better and you will learn that 

 nearly every one of its kind will ace 

 so. 



