EARLY MORNING. 203 



" Some years ago, one August, there was a great flight 

 of c yellow-legs ' and ' tell-tales,' as you call 'em, along the 

 river. I've never, altogether, seen so many since. For a 

 week or so, Long Bar, at low tide, would be just black 

 with 'em. No gunners came 'round just then, and I had 

 the thing all to myself ; and it paid big. Well, early one 

 morning, about the end of the time, I was settling myself 

 in a sort of ambush I had, made of cedar-boughs tucked 

 against a buttonwood log, lyin' on the bar, and I thought 

 I heard the yellow-legs coming up the river ; but instead 

 it was a whole swad of little plovers. They settled down, 

 black, right in front of me, and then scooted 'round, 

 until they made me out. One or two of 'em gave a wild 

 chirp, and away the whole of 'em went. I was glad they 

 were gone, and takin' comfort in my luck, when the 

 pesky things came back, but kept on the river side of my 

 screen. They trotted up and down as unconcerned as a 

 fly on your nose, and I paid no attention to them for 

 a while, as I was waiting for bigger game. After a bit 

 the big teeters I was after came within hearin', and I was 

 all eyes for a lot of 'em to settle down within range ; but 

 what do you think? those pesky plovers set up a sort of 

 a chatter when the big teeters came, and just made 'em 

 keep away from anywhere near where I was. Talk about 

 birds talking ! Why, them plover told the big teeters 

 there was danger lurkin' behind the log as plain as you 

 or I could. The birds' actions showed that. They say 

 t actions speak louder than words,' and so the birds' doings 

 told me plain enough that their twittering, when the 

 teeters came by, was understood all 'round, and the birds 

 acted accordingly. If you're goin' to boil it down to a 

 lot of hard-twisted words, perhaps you can make it out 

 that it was something different from our ways of talkin' 

 and takin' in the situation ; but to me it was one and the 



