A LONG PROCESSION 



a mile and a half from the beach, I am told) ; 

 oftener, I think, outside of it. 



They are recognizable by their shape and, bet- 

 ter still, by the manner of their flight. For the 

 most part, they seem not to be migrating, though 

 in habit they are migratory, but rather hasten- 

 ing toward some rendezvous, presumably some 

 fishing-ground, some spot in the ocean where a 

 school of sardines is at this moment swimming. 

 To-day they are going in one direction, and to- 

 morrow, perhaps, they will be going in the op- 

 posite direction. But, whichever way they are 

 headed, they move in a body, straight on and on 

 and on (like Columbus in the poem) in an unvary- 

 ing line, as if they were following a leader and 

 he were following a trail. 



As for possible minor marks of identification, 

 you are never near enough to discover whether 

 they have any. All the birds are dark on the 

 upper side ; some are dark all over except for a 

 silvery lining of the wings, while others are light- 

 colored not only on the under side of the wings, 

 but on the lower parts of the body as well. One 

 great difficulty under which the man on shore 

 labors is that they invariably fly low, almost graz- 

 ing the surface of the water. 



Their flight, swift as it is, swifter by far than 

 the wind, as the wind's habit is in quiet Santa 

 71 



