FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



faces as if inclined to quarrel, I thought. Prob- 

 ably I misinterpreted their movements, for the 

 newcomer at once joined the others ; and now 

 there were eight in the group, every one with 

 his head behind his wing. 



If the coots were chatterboxes, their tongues 

 always wagging, jabbering to themselves if no 

 one else was by, the swans, I had by this time 

 concluded, were fairly to be called sleepyheads. 

 A very somnolent set they seemed to be, surely. 

 "Now, then," they were always ready to say, 

 ** as long as that inquisitive old body won't allow 

 us to feed alongshore, why not go to sleep 

 again } " In that deep water there was really little 

 else for them to do, I suppose, unless they should 

 first acquire the impossible art of diving. 



Some time later they woke up, and had a fit 

 of calling. I looked into the sky, anticipating a 

 further arrival ; but nothing came of it. Had the 

 birds been deceived, or had the passers aloft de- 

 clined the invitation ? 



One thing I am bound to admit. It was proved 

 to me more than once. For detecting the pres- 

 ence of birds of their own kind overhead they had 

 some means, whether of sight or hearing, that 

 lay quite beyond the scope of my senses. 



But, indeed, I have often remarked how sur- 

 prisingly quick certain kinds of birds are to notice 

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