A WILDERNESS LABORATORY 157 



The tide flowed silently up or down or for a 

 time held itself motionless. At the flood the 

 mirror surface would occasionally be shattered 

 for a moment far from shore, where a porpoise 

 or a great lucannani rolled, or a crocodile or a 

 water mama nosed for breath. The calm was 

 invariable, but the air might be crystal clear to 

 the horizon, or so drenched in mist that the 

 nearest foliage was invisible. 



No matter how early I went out into the 

 dawn, the wrens were always singing — though 

 they were recent arrivals at Kalacoon. Then, 

 within a few minutes, the chachalacas began 

 their loud duets, answering one another in cou- 

 ples from first one, then another direction, 

 until the air was ringing with hanaqua! hanaqual 

 hanaqua! Dragonflies appeared in mid-air, 

 martins left their nests among the beams, parra- 

 keets crossed over from their roosts, and swifts 

 met them coming from their sleeping quarters in 

 hollow trees. The quaint little grassquits began 

 their absurd dance against gravity, and blatant 

 kiskadees ushered in the sun and day. 



Then came an interval when every one was 

 too busy feeding to sing, and the wren's notes 

 were hushed by an astounding succession of 



