MARCH WINDS 



the shadows of the sky. But across it, 

 near the middle, was drawn a silver 

 streak, the path of ducks swimming. 

 Presently I heard their voices, the res- 

 onant quack of a black duck and the 

 hoarse " pra-a-p pr-a-a-p " of the drake. 

 As they called, into the pond with a 

 splash came a small flock of divers, 

 showing white as they whirled to settle. 

 The. two species swam together, seemed 

 to look each other over, held who knows 

 what conversations in their own way, 

 then separated. It is not for black duck 

 and buffleheads to congregate, especially 

 in the spring; and while the black duck 

 and drake swam sedately away, the buffle- 

 heads began to hunt the small white perch 

 which swim in schools near the surface, 

 making a splash as if a stone was thrown 

 into the water at every lightning-like 

 dive. 



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