54 Life in the Open 



and there under scores of blackbirds. It may be my 

 imagination, but if there is not organisation of some 

 kind among these birds, the imitation is perfect. I 

 had my decoys well placed, and was out of sight before 

 a bird left the weeds where they spent the night, but 

 the first glimpse of the sun started them, and a roar of 

 sounds filled the vibrant air. They thronged the bend- 

 ing reeds and, suddenly silenced, a flock of four or five 

 hundred rose, as though by concert, and flew away ; 

 then bedlam broke loose again -ping zeee ee ping zeeee, 

 and countless sounds, followed by silence, when a new 

 army would rise. For an hour I watched these delega- 

 tions leaving, each going in some different direction^ 

 thus dividing up the great blackbird army ; some flying 

 to one ranch, some to another. This lot perhaps se- 

 lected Balsa Chica, the next the San Joaquin, another 

 the Aliso, and so on until quiet settled down over the 

 laguna, and the coots and rails had the field to 

 themselves. 



If one does not bag his ducks or geese there are the 

 charms of the swamp, the variety of animal life, the 

 strange sounds to listen to all compensations. But 

 what is this, far to the south where the laguna reaches 

 away to the sand dunes and sea ? Several black spots 

 appear, standing out with vivid distinctness. On they 

 come, now resolving into birds ducks coming in from 

 the sea perhaps, to feed on wild celery, grain, alfileria, 

 and the choice grasses that carpet the soft adobe down 

 to the edge of the water. They are coming directly 



