AUGUST BIRDS IN CAPE BRETON. 87 



I sharpened my vision and hearing, and found 

 that all around me tiny forms were moving 

 among the weeds, and that groups of birds 

 seemed to be collecting in answer to low calls 

 which suggested the warm, comfortable sound 

 which young chickens make as they nestle to 

 sleep under their mother. The sandpipers were 

 going to bed in the grass forest, and I was lying 

 in the midst of their dormitory, like sleepy Gul- 

 liver among the Lilliputians. I might have re- 

 mained quiet longer had the peeps and I been 

 the only living creatures on the Trout Brook 

 beach, but mosquitoes and gnats were present, 

 and the waving grass tips tickling my face made 

 them appear even more numerous than they 

 really were. So at last, when stars began to ap- 

 pear in the sky, I rose abruptly to my feet. Had 

 I exploded a mine, the whir and rush which fol- 

 lowed my arising could not have been more sud- 

 den. It was really startling, for in a second the 

 air was filled with frightened birds flying from 

 me towards the lake. How many there were I 

 cannot say, nor even guess, but it seemed to me 

 that all the sandpipers which patrolled the sandy 

 shores of Ainslie must have been gathered to- 

 gether on that one small area of beach, bent on 

 finding safety or a feeling of security in close 

 association through the night hours. 



Once or twice I have met the Hudson's Bay 



