60 Watching the Brant Grow Big. 



strange that the male should be the most 

 beautiful among almost all living things 

 excepting the people. And yet the male 

 whistler, superb as he is, had to seek his 

 mate and go through a lot of nonsense, 

 just as though she were a beautiful girl. 



I did not shoot at that pair of whistlers. 

 They would have made an excellent stew, 

 with pork and potatoes in the same pot ; 

 but they were so happy with each other 

 that I allowed them to pass. It makes my 

 mouth water now to think of them for 

 dinner, but the treason is all in my stomach 

 and not a bit of it in my heart. Flocks 

 of brant are moving down the bay in 

 straggling bunches or in even lines. 

 Some oysterman has stirred them up, or 

 perhaps they think that the eel-grass is 

 more tender farther on, and they will en- 

 joy it until it seems to be not quite so 

 good as the grass that they left. Few 

 people know why the brant move back 

 and forth in this way, but I know just how 

 they feel, because I have many times 

 camped on one end of a pond and always 

 found the fishing best away up at the other 



