A Bay on the Bay Shore, 



air. In the fields close by the marshes 

 are flocks of American pipits, running 

 about and teetering every now and 

 then in their curious fashion. A clump 

 of buckeyes harbors the song-sparrow 

 and the active little Audubon's warbler, 

 while the call of the meadow-lark sounds 

 afar off. 



Such is the bay shore with its many 

 forms of bird life. In the bushes the 

 domestic little fellows who make their 

 homes here, and upon the marshes the 

 restless throngs that come and go with 

 the tides, the hungry hordes from the 

 Arctic shores eagerly scanning the oozy 

 shallows for food, and off in the deep 

 water the diving and swimming birds — - 

 what an assemblage it is and what 

 fancies it suggests to the busy mind ! 

 Migration, that mysterious impulse of 

 bird nature, which sets all wings in mo- 

 tion in spring and autumn for the long 

 and perilous flight, a reminiscence of 

 the dread power of the age of ice 

 and the struggle for existence — that 

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