of the desert away to the east the life of the 
marsh and the lake was astir. Thousands and 
thousands of ducks and grebes and geese were 
chattering and feeding in happy contentment, 
and as the east began to glow the little marsh 
wrens would rise from the tules bubbling their 
songs to the coming day. Up, up, five, ten, 
twenty feet they would rise and then sink again 
out of sight. 
All over the part of the marsh where they 
lived one might see these little feathered dots 
looking scarcely larger than bumble-bees rising 
and falling continually. Apparently the music 
in their little throats simply lifted them in the 
air and continued to take them upward until 
the song rang out and the music ceased. And 
then the yellow-breasted meadowlark over on 
the shore at the edge of the grass land! His 
song was the most marvelous music of all the 
desert sounds, although probably no bird paid 
the slightest attention to it except his mate, 
who was now pretty busy caring for her five 
babies in the grass-lined nest. 
Near where the creek emptied into the lake 
919 
