The Track Near the Marsh 101 



and violet-green swallows. The birds came without invita- 

 tion, they adapted themselves to conditions and, if un- 

 molested, remained. 



The few spectators present when the meet began would 

 not have filled one of the thirty sections. The first call was 

 for the javelin, the shot put, and the mile run. I recognized 

 the local University men who gathered at the stations for I 

 had seen much of them that spring. Construction work in the 

 stadium had required the removal of the fence on the bay 

 side so that my walk to the canoehouse took me directly past 

 the field where the track squad, all clad in garments much 

 resembling the fleecelined underwear worn by their grand- 

 dads (and grandmothers), practiced daily to perfect them- 

 selves in their various specialties. Once in the habit, I seldom 

 failed to stop and watch proceedings. I liked the various field 

 trials and the attitude of the contestants. Their patience 

 astounded me: imagine the infinite perseverance required to 

 spend hours in properly grasping the discus, in extending the 

 arm and pivoting with just the proper speed and motion so 

 that, when the turn was completed, the weight could be di- 

 rected and propelled with that extreme, perfection of form 

 which would add the few feet or inches necessary to eclipse 

 competition. I used to watch the runners in their starting 

 positions, feet against the blocks, body bent, fingers at the 

 line, each muscle and nerve tensed for an instantaneous 

 getaway at the report of the gun. 



I liked particularly to visit the track after a few hours in 

 the marsh. There I had seen creatures whose great concern 

 was with the maintenance of life and whose satisfactions 

 were part of that concern. Perhaps my day had been partly 

 devoted to w 7 atching a mallard hen lead her V-shaped convoy 

 along the margins of the cattails, excitedly reminding a lag- 

 gard duckling that the only safe place in the entire canal was 

 directly behind her. She worked eighteen hours a day to 

 bring up her brood properly and safely, but as I began to 



