BUZZARD'S EEST. 61 



from view. Nothing invited. All repelled. Yet I felt 

 urged by some unrecognized influence to remain. Tlie 

 influence was unmistakable. It compelled a course of 

 action wholly at variance with my plans for the day. 

 I certainly had no desire to float idly at this point until 

 nightfall or even later. I was hungry and supperless, 

 yet I found it next to impossible to leave. Thrice my 

 hand reached forward to the anchor-chain; thrice I let 

 the chain fall back into the water and waited, I knew 

 not for what. 



One by one the birds in the thickets ceased their 

 chirping ; the titmice no longer whistled ; the last marsh- 

 wren of the day sang a hurried roundelay and sought its 

 nest in the reeds ; the scattered hylas peeped complain- 

 ingly, and a single fretful cat-bird was my sole compan- 

 ion. He soon grew tiresome, and I longed for an owl 

 to hoot or bittern to boom, but neither uttered a sound. 

 There was an almost noiseless interim of half an hour, 

 and then the katydids were ready to begin their night- 

 long concert. Surely I had not waited for them ! And 

 half angry with myself for remaining, turned once more 

 to the anchor, when I marked a mere speck against the 

 dull red of the sunset sky, and then another and another. 

 These shapeless dots grew steadily in bulk and soon as- 

 sumed definite outlines. They were gradually corning 

 nearer and nearer to where I waited, and each quickly 

 grew to a bird of great size, as it passed over and alighted 

 on the birch-trees beyond. The buzzards had returned. 



Quickly shipping my anchor, I sculled as closely as 

 possible, without being seen by them, and watched, as 

 best I might, in the uncertain and rapidly decreasing 



