246 Bird -Lore 



" Vou Iiave seen the nests perhaps," I continued; for I had not then seen 

 the warden and learned how difficult this was. 



" Y-as, " he efifervcsced. He had " V-as" ever ready on his lips, and let it fall 

 as gently and soothingly as summer rain. 



"What were the color of the eggs?" 



"Color? White — yellow," he declared. "Y-as." 



" Oh, no, light green, " I corrected, airing my book knowledge. 



"Green? Y-as," he acquiesced cheerfully — "all green." 



This was bad enough, but, when we spied a man hoeing corn, we came upon 

 something worse. We reached him after crossing row after row of freshly hoed 

 corn. His arm flew out wdth automatic precision, and as we approached we stood 

 in danger of being hoed under with the top soil. 



" Good-morning. " The head was lifted. 



"I had a distinct shock, "said one of the party afterward, "and visions of the 

 Mafia, in one glance. " 



The scowl on his face made us wary. 



"Will you please tell us if you have seen any Heath Hens around here?" I 

 asked most conciliatingly, and smiled. Instantly there was a strange contortion 

 of features. The man looked bland, but remained dumb, — another Portuguese. 



"Call them Heath'en," some one advised. 



"Heath'en," I repeated. "Are any around here?" My arm swept in the 

 surroundings. 



"The Man with the Hoe" eyed our cameras and field-glasses with brighten- 

 ing eyes. 



"Y-as, blueberries. All here." He repeated my sweep of arm, deciding, 

 no doubt, that our cameras were American inventions for holding berries. 



"No, not berries — birds!" I shouted. "Big birds." I did everything but 

 fly, to enlighten him. 



"Ya-s, — bluebirds!" The smile had grown e.xpansive. Colors seemed to 

 appeal to the nationality. Thanking him for the time we had taken, we retraced 

 the difficult way. 



The corn-field, however, proved our Mecca. Early in our quest I had quoted 

 from various authorities regarding the ways of the Heath Hen, speaking of a 

 habit they were said to have of coming out to the public roads at times to dust 

 themselves. 



As we neared the edge of the cornfield, wc startled the very bird we were 

 in search of, engaged in this occupation. The flight was our first intimation of 

 its i)rescnce. We stood straining our eyes to catch each movement of the oblique 

 flight till it dropped amid the scrub oak far distant. This time there was scarcely 

 a sound, as on that first occasion when Tympanuchits had gone upward with 

 an alarm-clock accomj)animent. We searched for the mate or possible chicks, 

 but none were found; so we concluded the bird had come alone to dust its feath- 

 ers, while the rest of the family took their noonday naj). There, in the loosened 



