A LONG PROCESSION 



In the forenoon of that day (June 4) I took in 

 the show from Lighthouse Point, — the end of 

 Point Pinos,— a much more favorable station, as 

 the birds passed at shorter range. " More than 

 ever this morning, a countless host, the bodies 

 all dark," says the notebook. 



Four hours afterward they were still pouring 

 into the bay, past the same point, in an unintert 

 rupted stream ; and I made an effort, watch in 

 hand, to count them— about two hundred a min- 

 ute. Two hours later yet they were still flying, 

 but now in so dense a mass that it was impossi- 

 ble to be anything like exact in my enumeration, 

 though I did my best — " three or four hundred 

 to the minute." 



For six hours, and there is no telling for how 

 much longer, they passed at this rate, all in one 

 direction, toward the inner bay. Were they going 

 there to fish, I wondered, or were they bound 

 farther, up or down the coast ? But I could only 

 say that, left and right, as far as the field-glass 

 carried, the procession was always approaching 

 and disappearing. 



Some time later I returned to Lovers' Point, 

 where the notebook indicates plainly enough my 

 bewildered state of mind. 



'* The larger part of the birds are in the water; 

 but the noticeable feature of the case is that a 

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