AMONG THE WATER FOWL 



awed spirits watching Nature in her passion. By 

 noon the wind had reached hurricane force. Flocks 

 of fowl were fairly hurled in over the rocks, many 

 of them to be shot down by the "station" men, 

 and others, who stood ready. I made no effort to 

 estimate the number of that day's flight. Thou- 

 sands upon thousands there were, and of all kinds. 

 The surf thundered in upon the rocks, and clouds 

 of spray flew up over the top of the bluff. It was 

 a wild, an awful night. Wakeful we lay in our 

 beds that rocked as the avalanches of atmosphere 

 were hurled upon the frail, trembling cottage. 



In the morning when I opened the door and 

 stepped out, a blast struck me that made me gasp 

 for breath and cling to the railing. Blinded with 

 the stinging sleet, I could not see whether fowl 

 were flying or not. A neighboring barn had dis- 

 appeared, lying in fragments on the rocks around 

 the Point. Everything was white with snow. Win- 

 ter had come upon land, ocean, and wild-fowl. 



YOUNG DUSKY DUCK, MAGDALEN ISLANDS 

 224 



