The American Avocet 



click of the camera was sweeter music in our ears than the explosion of 

 death-dealing cartridges before a band of elk. 



The birds were driven to the very limit of frenzy, dancing, wing-trail- 

 ing, swaying, going through last convulsions and beginning over again 

 without regard to logical sequence, all in an agony of effort to divert 

 attention from those precious eggs. It may seem cruel to have harassed 

 them so, but we were sustained by the integrity of our purpose, which was 

 not robbery, but snap-shottery; and we neglected no opportunity to work 

 upon their feelings. Neighbors came up and looked on sympathetically, 

 or joined in the clamor. 



As time elapsed, however, the color of the play changed. Finding 

 that the appeal to cupidity was of no avail, the birds appeared to fall back 

 upon the appeal to pity. Decoying was useless, that was plain; so they 

 stood with upraised wings, quivering and moaning, in tenderest supplica- 

 tion. It was too much even for conscious rectitude, and we withdrew, for 

 once, abashed. 



But if one fancies that the Avocet's repertory either of cajolery or 

 abuse is exhausted in defense of her eggs, he should wait until a chick is 



Taken in Merced County 



COUSINS: BABY AVOCET (in lead) AND BABY STILT 



Photo by the A uthor 



1201 



