The Marismas of Guadalquivir ror 
lucios of El Desierto, and now head away towards feeding- 
grounds outside. Arrayed line beyond line in echelon, ten thou- 
sand pinions beat, in unison—beat in short, sharp strokes from 
the elbow. The fantasy of form amazes; the flash of contrasted 
colour as the first sun-rays strike on black, white, and vermilion. 
One may have witnessed this spectacle a score of times, yet 
never does it pall or leave one without a sense that here nature 
has treated us to one of her wildest creations. No rude sketch 
of ours—possibly not the best that art can produce—will ever 
convey the effect of these quaint forms in vast moving agelomera- 
tion. Long after they have vanished in space, one remains 
entranced with the glamour of the scene. 
WILDFOWL IN THE MARISMA 
The flamingoes have passed away, but the lightening skies are 
still streaked and serried. Most numerous are the wigeon, millions 
of them in hurrying phalanxes, white specks flanged with dark 
wings, too well known to describe; pintails (this wet winter 
hardly less numerous), readily distinguishable by their longer 
build and stately grace of flight; the dark heads and snowy 
necks of the drakes conspicuous afar. The arrow-like course of 
the shoveler, along with his vibrant wing-beats and incessant 
eall, ‘‘ zook, zook, tsook, tsook,” identify that species ; while gad- 
wall, more sombre in tone than the mallards, ‘“ talk” in distinc- 
tive style; and mob-like masses of teal and marbled ducks sweep 
along the open channels. Then there are the diving-ducks with 
harsh corvine croaks, pochards, ferruginous, and tufts, just as 
swift as the rest, though of apparently more laboured flight ; 
occasionally a string of shelducks, conspicuous by size and con- 
