Descriptive List ■ llY 



"From among our galleries of mental pictures certain ones stand out like the 

 works of old masters among a lot of gaudy chromos. Soft of tone and broad of 

 treatment, none show up fairer or wdth a greater fullness of expression than do 

 some of those of the wide expanse of salt-marsh — with the high yellow dimes in 

 the background — the dark gray-browns of the exposed oyster-rocks among the 

 smoother mud-flats, or the broad stretches of dazzling sand and sea-worn shells 

 where the heat-waves shimmer mirage-like back into the unmeasurable distances. 

 Above the soft lap of the summer wavelets on the drift-strewn shore-line come 

 various familiar notes. The soft call of the Knot, the scjueaking whistle of the 

 Krieker, the twittering of the little 'Sea-chickens.' Then a soft flute-like whistle 

 tells us that the Yellow-legs are flying, or a louder piUy-wiU-wiUet lets us know that 

 Willets are not far away. This whistle of the Beetle-head, the low, plaintive call of 

 the Ring-neck, or the peep of tlie Piping Plover, all add to the charm of the place 

 that onlj' the beach-rambler knows. 



"Along the sandy, sea-lapped beaches, abroad on the wide, naked mud-flats, and 

 peophng the bare and muddy rocks of 'coon' oysters, are hundreds and thousands 

 of birds. With the exception of a few^ Fish Crows, Gulls and Boat-tailed Crackles, 

 they are all 'beach' birds. From the big, conspicuous Oyster-catcher all the way 

 downi to the crowded hundreds of httle, restless 'peeps', all are ahve and active. 

 For it is May, and the great northward migration is on. If you are after meat — 

 and sport — you wiW build a bhnd and set out a dozen or more of flat profile decoys; 

 but if the liag is with you a secondary consideration, a leisurely prowl along the sea 

 line and the borders of the marsh will repaj^ you better. The birds are restless; 

 many of them are by no means shy, and there is a page or two of the great open 

 book of Outdoors to be read. You have your field-glass with you (better leave 

 the gun at home than it) , and where the print is fine or the letters blur, use your 

 glass. 



"Over on the short grass of the salt-marsh an inconspicuous brownish object 

 shows and disappears. On turning the glasses that way other patches of brown are 

 seen, gradually assuming shape and proportion. ' Curlew's,' (Hudsonian, of course), 

 you mutter, 'fifteen or twenty of them.' And right there you remember the gun in 

 your hand and make a hike for the birds like the bloodthirsty hunter you really 

 are. They rise out of shot, but a crouch behind a tussock of rushes, and a call or 

 two, and they swing back — and a couple come down to the double discharge. While 

 watching the remainder of the flock disappear in the distance, a compactly built 

 bird comes with rapid and regular strokes of its pointed wings. You crouch again — 

 and a 'Beetle-head' is added to the bag. Note the dense black of the underparts, in 

 sharp contrast to the grays of the back and the light shades of the rest of the body. 



"Along the edge of the marsh some medium-sized birds are feeding, along with 

 the Peeps and Red-backs. They are long of leg and gray of body, and the glasses 

 show them to be Yellow-legs, and you squat on a dry tussock and watch them. 



"The beach here is only a few hundred yards wide, and back of and parallel with 

 it runs a shallow, brackish creek-like and marshy sound, farther than the eye can 

 reach, until it joins the waters of the sea at the inlet ten miles away. An ideal 



