36 BESIDE THE MARSH. 



out behind him. Next a marsh hawk in 

 brown plumage comes skimming over the 

 grass. This way and that he swerves in ever 

 graceful lines. For one to whom ease and 

 grace come by nature, even the chase of 

 meadow mice is an act of beauty, while an- 

 other goes awkwardly though in pursuit of a 

 goddess. 



Several times I have noticed a kingfisher 

 hovering above the grass (so it looks, but no 

 doubt he is over an arm of the creek), strik- 

 ing the air with quick strokes, and keeping 

 his head pointed downward, after the manner 

 of a tern. Then he disappeared while I was 

 looking at something else. Now I remark 

 him sitting motionless upon the top of a post 

 in the midst of the marsh. 



A third blue heron appears, and he too 

 flies over without stopping. Number One 

 still keeps his place ; through the glass I can 

 see him dressing his feathers with his clumsy 

 beak. The lively strain of a white-eyed vireo, 

 pertest of songsters, comes to me from some- 

 where on my right, and the soft chipping of 

 myrtle warblers is all but incessant. I look 

 up from my paper to see a turkey buzzard 

 sailing majestically northward. I watch him 



