Beach Combers 61 



defined, mist-laden fields spread away to seeming 

 boundless space. The great slumbering world paid 

 no heed to us, for the signal-fires of coming dawn 

 yet flared redly in the east, and even farmers and 

 their dogs and fowl snatch sleep at times. It was 

 good to just sit in the trap and bowl along, sniffing 

 the wondrous spices of spring in the air, and watch- 

 ing the light gain power and the mist-curtains roll 

 away. Long ere we had traversed the great clear- 

 ing of farms, lances of yellow light flashed from the 

 east and clove their way through mists and shadows 

 and roused a myriad lives to hail the sun. 



Birds appeared like magic, and rills of sweetest 

 song bubbled and jingled from every copse and cover, 

 telling the joy of the fresh-green, flower-spangled 

 world. Big grackles, with black wedge-tails twisted 

 awry, rasped and " Ska-arred " as they flew heavily 

 from fence-post to twig. Starlings, with ebony coats 

 and ruby shoulder-straps, queried " Cheer-cheer ? " 

 and voiced their musical " Konk-re-lay," a bird yodel 

 of strange sweetness. Meadow-larks buzzed to and 

 fro in brief, straight flights, and sent long-drawn 

 whistling questions to each other. Bobolinks, in 

 half mourning of creamy plush and velvet black, 

 hung overhead and drifted o'er the fields, gushing 

 forth golden cascades of song, as though the mar- 

 vellous artists had stolen and blended the ripple of 

 waters, piping, fluting, and the jingle of sleighbells 

 into one tangled braid, and were trying to say 

 " Whortle-berries " through it all as fast as possible. 

 Bluebirds, sparrows, swallows, all were there, sing- 

 ing as though their wee throats would burst with 

 gladness, or gliding through scented airs at will. 



