148 LAND OF THE LINGERING SNOW. 



when a high-flying osprey plunged downward 

 through many a foot of air to the river, and scat- 

 tered myriad drops as he struck the water in a 

 vain effort to grasp a wary fish. A pair of red- 

 shouldered hawks screamed angrily at us as we 

 paddled past their chosen grove. A bittern flew 

 up stream and settled in a snarl of rushes. We 

 marked the spot and my friend paddled to it. 

 The bird allowed the bow of the canoe to come 

 within six or seven feet of him before his confi- 

 dence in his protective coloring failed sufficiently 

 to make him fly. A spotted sandpiper flew from 

 shore to shore ahead of us, giving his character- 

 istic whistle as he sped low over the water. 

 When he remained for a moment on the shore 

 his " teetering " seemed to make his outlines 

 blend in the river ripples. The water thrush, 

 a warbler next of kin to the ovenbird, has the 

 teetering habit to a less marked degree, and is 

 also a bird whose life is passed near the edge of 

 waves. 



Not long after midday we sighted the Minute- 

 Man, passed under his wooden bridge and 

 grounded our boats on the Old Manse shore. A 

 happy voyage was over. We had met fifty-seven 

 kinds of birds and seen eighteen or more kinds 

 of flowers in bloom. We had killed nothing, 

 not even time, for those sixty-seven hours will 

 live as long as our memory of pleasant things 

 serves us. 



