66 Watching the Brant Grow Big. 



their feathers, but only one bird slips 

 out of the flock and drops perpendicularly 

 into the water, while the rest choose a 

 horizontal trajectory. Too many eyes. 

 Too far away. 



It is almost noon. The tide has fallen 

 so far away that there is no water near the 

 bar, and no more birds will come until an- 

 other tide has risen. There is plenty of 

 humble game within reach for the larder, 

 though. Razor clams first ! The edges 

 of their shells are just on a level with the 

 soft sand of the flat, but they must be ap- 

 proached gently, for they are sensitive in 

 the company of strangers, and the fingers 

 of a hungry enemy will grasp only a little 

 maelstrom of roily water unless he is care- 

 ful. I seize one of the razors, but how 

 hard he pulls ! Working him back and 

 forth rapidly in his hole causes the water 

 to loosen the sand all about him, and up 

 comes a long, fat fellow, twisting his white 

 foot in efforts to escape. When we work 

 a razor back and forth in his hole the sand 

 around him becomes mushy, according to 

 a definite plan of nature, which turns the 



