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Bird - Lore 



rupted task of incubation, circling about overhead and whistling loudly 

 for fifteen minutes or more before returning to alight on the nest. 



Another bird, near whose ground-nest I had erected a blind, showed a 

 similar inability to count above one. If one of two persons went away, 

 leaving the other in the blind, the bird was apparently satisfied that all was 

 well. If, however, I entered the blind alone, an hour or more would pass 

 before the bird's confidence in the situation was sufficiently restored to 

 permit a return to her young. 



This bird's nest was on the beach at the south end of the island, and, 

 while studying her from my blind, I had an excellent opportunity to observe 

 the Terns which were nesting there in numbers. At this time (July 5) 

 the first-born young were several days old, and tne little fellows were run- 

 ning about, apparently, wherever they pleased, attended by their parents. 

 Several were seen to enter an inflowing creek, drink repeatedly of the salt- 

 water and swim actively, in evident enjoyment of their natatorial powers, 

 while the parents, who rarely if ever alight on the water, watched them 

 from the shore. Possibly here was an explanation of the value to Terns of 

 webbed toes. Functionless in the adult, they are of service to the young 

 before the power of flight is acquired. 



Terns have ceased to nest on the once teeming sand-bars of Long 

 Island, but two good-sized colonies of these beautiful birds inhabit Gardi- 

 ner's Island, and their presence adds immeasurably to the attractiveness of 

 the beach -life. On the beach I also found the plaintive -voiced Piping 

 Plover, a bird now so rare that in all my wanderings I have never encoun- 

 tered it before. Only ten or twelve of these birds were seen, and search 

 failed to reveal the eggs or young which they gave evidence of possessing. 

 Let us hope this little band of survivors may escape the dangers of the 

 migratory season, and with ever-increasing progeny return each year to the 

 sheltering beaches of Gardiner's Island. 



THE SIGNAL AT THE FIRE-PLACE 



