WATCHING THE DAY DIE 237 



were a hundred nearer roosts, which seen through 

 other eyes seemed as suitable, but the crane 

 knows his business well. 



But all of the bird neighbors of the evening 

 were not big fellows. A flutter scarcely audible 

 and an intermittent rustling in the withering sun- 

 flowers along the shore disclosed a swamp spar- 

 row. This retiring little chap seemed to be 

 spending the evening in darting every few min- 

 utes to another teetering stalk, and occasion- 

 ally dodging down out of sight into the swamp 

 grass. Closer investigation revealed the fact that 

 there were several of them in the vicinity; doubt- 

 less a little migrant company that, having spent 

 the day in the marsh fastnesses, were now ready 

 to speed out into the night and measure off an- 

 other lap of their south-going journey. 



Then another tiny visitor was noted in the 

 same weeds and rushes. Owing to his diminu- 

 tiveness, he probably would have entirely escaped 

 notice, but that once he gave a cross little chir- 

 rup. Marsh wren or northern yellow- throat? 

 For though quite unrelated, both of these deni- 

 zens of the marsh tangles have rather similar 

 voices. But it proved to be a marsh wren 

 noisy little chap of the summer who, when the 



