ii8 Bird- Lore 



present anything like the grand spectacle they will later in the year, 

 when migration sends millions of them to this marsh. 



The sun is up now, and a little wind is stirring and dispels the 

 clammy dampness of the air. Shortbills sing on all sides, and a few 

 Marylands and Henslows are also heard to sing. Great Blue Herons 

 are on the move, and the Marsh Hawk is at work. A Bittern wings 

 its way across the marsh, attended by a committee of inquisitive 

 young Eaves. There is a peculiar- movement now among the Swal- 

 lows. They seem to concentrate their forces. Let us follow them, 

 and be treated to an unexpected feight. 



Fifty thousand Eave Swallows are seated on the protruding tops of 

 sunflowers, which grow here among the spartina in restricted areas, cov- 

 ering a few acres in the middle of the marsh ! They sit, several on one 

 plant, as close together as the branches and their weight allow. We 

 draw nearer, until we are within twenty yards of the assembly. The 

 birds must see us, but do not mind, and we have excellent opportunity 

 to watch them. Their numbers are still swelling. The long, narrow, 

 ridge-like stretch of sunflowers is filling up more and more. From 

 the north comes a steady flow of Eaves, all bound for the con- 

 vention. 



It is now 6 A. M. ; the influx of arrivals from the north has ceased, 

 and all seem ready for the opening of the session ; but they do not look 

 as if they were going to transact important business. Some fly up from 

 time to time, draw a few circles and sit down again. Most of them 

 look tired, as if they had already performed a most fatiguing task. 

 The majority are young fellows, all Eaves, in pale attire, some so small 

 as if not fully grown ; but there are also many adults in high dress 

 among them. All are enjoying their rest-, some are preening their 

 feathers, others half close their eyes and puff up their plumage, as if 

 going to sleep. There are still some high up in the ether enjoying 

 their enviable wing power ; others are hunting low over the marsh, in 

 company with Whitebreasts. 



Although the two species hunt, fly and roost together, they do 

 not hold their meetings together. The Whitebreasts' assemblages are 

 held over water. They betake themselves to a pond or lake, and 

 find a perch on the pods, stalks and projecting leaves of the lotus 

 {Nehimbo liitea), with which some of these shallow waters of the 

 marsh are literally covered. There is a small pond only a quarter 

 of a mile from the sunflower patch, and this is now just full of 

 Whitebreasts. Now and then a little cloud of them rises from the 

 pond, and after a few evolutions settles down again. There are only 

 a few hundred ; the height of their autumnal wandering is several 

 weeks behind that of the Eaves. These are most numerous in late 



