FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



life you could never tell even yourself how you 

 do it. 



If you are fortunate enough to startle the bird 

 from its nest, flat on the open sand, and stoop, 

 as you will, to admire the prettily spotted eggs, 

 packed so cleverly, the smaller ends together, on 

 a loose layer, hardly more than a sprinkling, of 

 bits of seaweed stuff, a nest impossible to take 

 up until you have first gummed the parts together 

 as they lie, the plover makes so gentle a remon- 

 strance that you would never suspect it for such 

 but for your own guilty consciousness ; all in 

 extreme and most refreshing contrast with the 

 obstreperous behavior of its larger relative and 

 neighbor, the killdeer. 



This, also, is a numerous year-long resident 

 with us, every bird noisy enough for ten; with a. 

 rasping, ear-piercing, nerve-racking, in every way 

 exasperating voice, the sound of which has often 

 made me vote its possessor a nuisance, especially 

 when I have been seeking a close interview with 

 some rare and interesting visitor, — a thing to 

 be accomplished now or never, perhaps, — and 

 have been thwarted at the critical moment by 

 the causeless outcries of this pestiferous busy- 

 body. Father Linnaeus knew what he was about 

 when he dubbed it vociferiis. 



Nest or no nest, in season or out of season, it 



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