The Spotted Sandpiper. 



173 



or separated from him by the width of an 

 ocean, was ever his closest friend and his 

 firmest supporter. To Lucy Audubon, his 

 beautiful wife, as much as to the natural- 

 ist himself, do "we owe the great works 

 which have made famous the name of Au- 

 dubon. Many of those who read these 

 pages will remember her majestic yet be- 

 nign presence, and can understand the 

 power for aid which so strong a character 

 as hers must have exerted on the light- 

 hearted and enthusiastic husband, whom 

 she survived for twenty years. 



In beautiful Trinity Cemetery, within 

 hearing of the lapping waters of the broad 

 river, on whose banks they had lived to- 

 gether, and hardly a stone's throw from 

 the house where their declining years were 

 passed, John James Audubon and Lucy, 

 his wife, repose side by side. No towering 

 shaft rises toward heaven to mark their 

 resting place or commemorate their deeds, 

 but on the gray granite of a simple vault is 

 carved the name 



Audubon. 



THE SPOTTED SANDPIPER. 



RUNNING swiftly along the sandy 

 beach of the seashore, or probing 

 the mud on the margin of some quiet pool, 

 or balancing himself on a rock that rises 

 above the surface of a brawling stream, you 

 may find the Spotted Sandpiper any day 

 from the early spring to the late summer. 

 One of our commonest birds throughout 

 the whole country, he is equally abundant 

 along the surf-beaten sands of Long Island, 

 the sluggish sloughs of Illinois, the mud- 

 laden, hurrying waters of the great Mis- 

 souri River and the streams of California, 

 and wherever found he is the same familiar 

 trustful little fellow, always busy about his 

 own affairs, and having no time at all to 

 attend to those of other people. There is 

 one exception to this rule, and if his nest is 

 approached, or he imagines that you are 

 about to harm his downy young that on un- 

 steady legs are following him and his wife 

 about, learning how to make their living, 

 then indeed the Spotted Sandpiper makes 

 a dismal outcry, and both parents fly about 

 you with piercing shrieks which tell plainly 

 enough the story of their distress and the 

 affection which they feel for their brood. 



At such times the mother resorts to every 

 artifice to lead the enemy away from her 

 young. She flutters on the ground almost 



at your feet, as if she were badly hurt and 

 quite unable to fly, but if you attempt to 

 catch her she manages by a few desperate 

 wing beats to elude your grasp, and again 

 struggles just before you, trembling and 

 panting and with feebly beating wings, as 

 if the effort she had just made had really 

 been the last of which she was capable, and 

 now you had only to step forward and take 

 her in your hand. If you attempt it, you 

 will find that she can still struggle onward, 

 and so, step by step, she will lead you from 

 her children, who, at the first sharp note 

 which warned them of danger, squatted on 

 the ground and remain perfectly motionless. 

 As they are slate gray in color it is almost 

 impossible to distinguish them from the 

 stones among which they lie concealed. 

 After the dangerous intruder has been 

 drawn far enough from the spot where the 

 young are hidden, all the mother's vigor 

 returns to her, and she flies away in tri- 

 umph to return in a little while, and call 

 the young out of their hiding places. It is 

 a pretty sight to see the reunion of the little 

 family and to observe the air of proud satis- 

 faction with which the mother leads them 

 away. 



Besides being one of our most common 

 birds, the Spotted Sandpiper is a species of 



