38 HOW TO STUDY BIRDS 



By dint of straining my eyes and my imagination, I 

 was able, after quite a while, to say, truthfully, that 

 I saw them, or rather some boats. I should not have 

 noticed them unless I had been told they were there, 

 but for the life of me I couldn't have told whether 

 it was Rufe or Cy, or Patrick or Vincenzo. 



" I don't see how you can tell," I said. He 

 laughed, and replied that it was as plain as day. 

 That one had a new mainsail, the other's jib set flat, 

 and there were a lot of other points too numerous to 

 mention and too inconspicuous to attract the notice 

 of a stranger, even when they were along-side, to say 

 nothing of miles away and hull down. 



The fact was that the fisherman's eyes were trained 

 to that sort of thing, and it was perfectly distinct to 

 him, though an utter bewilderment to the novice. So 

 it is, in a measure, with the birds. Some of them we 

 encounter at close range, and they are so considerate 

 as to delay long enough to give us a good look. But 

 others seem constitutionally unable to " be aisy," or 

 are exceedingly shy, and give the observer but a fleet- 

 ing glimpse. The latter may be quite enough if the 

 bird has any distinguishing peculiarity. If not, it 

 will be evident to the trained observer to what family 

 the bird belongs, if he has had any sort of fair though 

 fleeting glance at it. One can in time come to know 

 so well the " cut of the jib " or the " set of the sail " 

 that it is not necessary to stare into the eyes ten feet 

 away to know whether it is Cy or Rufe. 



Size, form and manner of flight tell a great deal, 



