FIELD-DAYS IN CALIFORNIA 



beach, — I found the swans in a bay or cove, 

 feeding so industriously (no sign of drowsiness 

 now) that they permitted me to draw near enough 

 to see plainly the small loral patch before men- 

 tioned. It was as good as a visiting-card. Hence- 

 forth I was in possession of their full name, Olor 

 columbianus, the whistling swan. 



As they fed, holding their heads under water 

 for a surprisingly long time, a number of ducks 

 collected in the vicinity, diving directly beside 

 them, almost or quite under them, in fact, as if 

 — what I doubted not was true — the long-necked 

 creatures were stirring up the muddy bottom with 

 a thoroughness which the ducks found highly to 

 their advantage. " Strange," says the note-book, 

 "how exceedingly small the ducks, even the can- 

 vasbacks, look. As for the ruddies and buiHe- 

 heads, they look for all the world like ducklings 

 following their mothers about." The swans made 

 not the least objection to the ducks' persistent 

 and rather meddlesome looking activities ("Help 

 yourselves, children, help yourselves," they might 

 have been saying), but now and then they in- 

 dulged in what seemed like slight fallings-out 

 among themselves. 



When they had fed thus for some time, they 

 proceeded to bathe : after dinner the finger-bowl. 

 And a lively performance it was, with a deal of 

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