:::::::::*; TWO BIRD -LOVERS IN MEXICO B:"""" 



I would give much to solve this mystery, shared by 

 schools of fish and swarms of insects. Perhaps the 

 closest we may approximate to this unity of many is 

 when the rhythm of a waltz sways two dancers as one, 

 or when improvising on stringed instruments with 

 a person with whom one is in perfect sympathy, the 

 sequence of harmony comes simultaneously to each. 

 But the birds have no rhythm to aid them ; the same 

 ground is never gone twice over. 



And now there comes, as if from the very heart of 

 the sun, a second flock equal in numbers to the first, 

 and the two vibrate back and forth over the lake. Once 

 the Spirit of the flock — as it pleases me to call this 

 sympathy of movement — appears undecided, as the 

 birds hesitate a moment over a bit of marsh. A half 

 dozen alight for an instant, but the time is not yet, 

 and quickly they leap into the air again and seem 

 almost to snap into their places. Finally, both flocks 

 sweep in a horizontal plane over the marsh, bring up 

 with a sudden short curve, and two hundred wings are 

 folded and a hundred birds begin busily probing the 

 hyacinths and muddy shallows ; the compelling power 

 has dissolved into entities, each perfect and individual, 

 — the Spirit of the flock is no more. 



The unwatered country about Guadalajara fulfilled 

 our idea of a desert, but when we saw a real alkali 

 waste, we agreed that the former region in no wise 



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