OTHER WATER BORDERS 



and fills. Too slowly for counting they 

 raise little islands from the bog and reclaim 

 the land. The waters pushed out cut 

 deeper channels, gnaw off the edges of the 

 solid earth. 



The tulares are full of mystery and ma- 

 laria. That is why we have meant to 

 explore them and have never done so. It 

 must be a happy mystery. So you would 

 think to hear the redwinged blackbirds 

 proclaim it clear March mornings. Flocks 

 of them, and every flock a myriad, shelter 

 in the dry, whispering stems. They make 

 little arched runways deep into the heart 

 of the tule beds. Miles across the valley 

 one hears the clamor of their high, keen 

 flutings in the mating weather. 



Wild fowl, quacking hordes of them, nest 

 in the tulares. Any day's venture will 

 raise from open shallows the great blue 

 241 



