DYER’S HOLLOW. $5 
Cape Cod birds, like Cape Cod men, know 
how to shift their course with the wind. 
Where else would one be likely to see prairie 
warblers, black-throated greens, and black- 
and-white creepers scrambling in company 
over the red shingles of a house-roof, and 
song sparrows singing day after day from a 
chimney-top ? 
In all my wanderings in Dyer’s Hollow, 
only once did I see anything of that pest of 
the seashore, the sportsman; then, in the 
distance, two young fellows, with a highly 
satisfactory want of success, as well as I 
could make out, were trying to take the life 
of a meadow lark. No doubt they found 
existence a dull affair, and felt the need of 
something to enliven it. A noble creature 
is man, — “‘a little lower than the angels!” 
Two years in succession I have been at the 
seashore during the autumnal migration of 
sandpipers and plovers. ‘Two years in suc- 
cession have I seen men, old and young, 
murdering sandpipers and plovers at whole- 
sale for the mere fun of doing it. Had they 
been “pot hunters,” seeking to earn bread 
by shooting for the market, I should have 
pitied them, perhaps, — certainly I should 
