13° ON THE BIRDS' HIGHWAY 



fore we reached a farmhouse at which our 

 midday meal was to be secured, a patriarch 

 marsh hawk was added to our morning's 

 list. Beyond this hawk, 

 Nashaquitsa Pond was, in a 

 bird way, but a repetition of 

 the many others. 

 __ ,, ,, A thunder-shower had 



^^^' M^Sk hardly passed over and the 

 rain was still falling when we 

 set out again on our journey to Gay Head, 

 then but four miles distant. The old 

 Indian road was over undulating hills with 

 miniature forests of bay bushes and general 

 wild shrubbery on either hand and wood 

 lilies brightened the path. On the right 

 lay Menemsha Pond and beyond the bright 

 Vineyard Sound and the Elisabeth Islands. 

 To the left, across Nashaquitsa Pond, the 

 ocean stretched to the horizon. 



As we trudged along, new land birds 

 were added to our list. Brown thrashers, 

 catbirds and Maryland yellow-throats 

 dodged in the thicket from time to time 

 or sought some lofty spray to sing. The 

 chewink was everywhere. Kingbirds that 

 sat on the telegraph wires were joined by 

 barn and tree swallows every second. 



