A LABRADOR SPRING 



we came to anchor in a lovely land-locked 

 harbour among Les Isles des Corneilles, and 

 here we spent a most interesting twenty-four 

 hours, exploring the low, rounded granitic 

 islands and the main land with its salt marshes, 

 its bogs, its impenetrable forests and its rush- 

 ing turbid river. 



Eiders were everywhere and their love notes 

 were constantly in our ears. They were to be 

 seen not only on the water, but also on the 

 rocks and among the stunted spruce bushes 

 of the islands where we frequently stumbled 

 on their nests, the large olive-green eggs con- 

 cealed in a mass of soft eider down. 



A flock of twenty-eight geese were feeding 

 in a shallow pool between two islands, and, as 

 I watched them from a sheltered sunny nook 

 beside a great snowbank, I listened to the songs 

 of the melodious sparrow family as represented 

 by the white-crowned, white-throated, tree and 

 fox sparrows, all good singers. To the majority 

 of people the word sparrow calls up only the 

 English sparrow of our streets with its nerve- 

 racking chirps ! Little do they know how musi- 

 cal are most of this tribe and what a great tribe 

 it is. 



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