THE MARSHES OF MALHEUR 113 



Of the twenty-four hundred nests not three 

 hundred were left. Tossed and torn, the nests had 

 been driven by the high waves and the strong 

 wind back upon themselves, in some places sev- 

 eral deep, their pale white eggs by thousands 

 scattered through the tangled debris or floating 

 free in the water. 



The rookery was an utter wreck. The birds, 

 with the exception of a few pairs, had abandoned 

 it — had gone, some hundred pairs of them, down 

 to the mouth of the Blitzen and there started the 

 new colony which we had encountered coming 

 out. 



I don't know which impressed me more — the 

 fearful loss and waste of life here, or the thought 

 of that quick recovery at the mouth of the 

 Blitzen. 



The birds had shown no judgment in choosing 

 this place for their rookery. No more exposed 

 position could have been found in the entire 

 lake. The colony had acted blindly, stupidly; 

 had learned nothing as a colony in their million 

 ages of nest-building, nor ever shall learn. But 

 how swift to begin again I How fertile in re- 

 source I How absolute to command I With the 



