IN THE DUNES 17 



wild rose, staghorn sumach and poison ivy, sur- 

 rounded by a threatening mass of bare dunes, 

 was an assembly of birds that made the day a 

 red-letter one for me, and still thrills me with 

 pleasure when I think of it. The trees and 

 bushes and the bare white patches of sand be- 

 neath seemed filled with birds — not a flock of one 

 kind but of many different kinds. For several 

 hours I wandered enchanted through this di- 

 minutive grove, retracing and crossing my steps 

 again and again, led on by the sight and calls 

 of the birds. At times I looked down on the tops 

 of the trees from the encoaching dunes, and at 

 times I sat on the sand under the trees and 

 watched the birds come and go about me. 



The interesting group of warblers took first 

 rank in this assembly. Myrtle warblers and 

 black-polls, both in their simple winter plum- 

 ages, were abundant. One myrtle warbler was, 

 however, in the full regalia of the spring. It is 

 not surprising that the black-poll in the fall was 

 at first unrecognized by Audubon and called the 

 autumnal warbler. In the autumn the country 

 is often flooded with them and their characteris- 



