FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



Then the three sandpipers joined them, and 

 finally the two lonesome sanderlings descried 

 the group, and said, "Come on! Here's our 

 chance." 



By an unusual stroke of luck I had actually 

 seen the company formed. At my last sight of 

 them they were flying down the beach together, 

 as if they had been hatched in the same nest. 



A very different bird, whose feeding-habits 

 I have often enjoyed overseeing, is the white- 

 winged scoter, a black duck marked by a sightly 

 white patch on its wing. Flocks varying in num- 

 ber from half a dozen to twenty or thirty are 

 always present, summer and winter alike, and, 

 while more generally seen swimming a short dis- 

 tance out, between the breakers and the kelp, 

 they seem to get much the larger share of their 

 living in the shallow surf inside the last breaker. 



There they may be seen daily, bumping about 

 on the sand, very ungraceful, but very busy, and 

 by the appearance of things very successful. 

 Their diet is mostly crustacean. As each wave 

 comes in and breaks, they waddle with all speed 

 into its frothy shallow, dabbing hurriedly right 

 and left, nose under water, not minding in the 

 least if the next billow tosses them ashore again 

 (in fact, this is much their easiest way of getting 

 there); and pretty often, often enough, at all 

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