A VISITATION OF SWANS 



absent ; but before many minutes I came upon 

 them close inshore in a Uttle bay, surrounded by 

 hundreds of ducks and coots, the coots, most lo- 

 quacious bodies, engaged as usual in an animated 

 conversation. 



I drew nearer and nearer, desirous of improv- 

 ing so favorable an opportunity to make sure 

 whether the swans had a small yellowish patch 

 in the loral region (between the eye and the base 

 of the upper mandible), an inconspicuous mark, 

 the presence or absence of which would deter- 

 mine the specific identity of the birds, whether 

 whistling or trumpeter swans. Before I could 

 satisfy myself upon this nice point, however, the 

 smaller birds took the alarm ; and, their noisy, 

 hurried flight, with so much dragging of the feet, 

 proving too much for the swans, they sailed away 

 to their one place of safety, where they immedi- 

 ately tucked their heads under their wings for a 

 forenoon nap. 



Half an hour later, while I was spying upon a 

 strange-looking fox sparrow scratching about the 

 roots of the tules, one of the swans sent up a shout, 

 and in another moment a big white bird (and big 

 enough he looked) came slanting down from 

 the sky, and splashed into the water. The one 

 that had sounded the signal swam at once to 

 meet him, and the two gesticulated in each other's 



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