The Snowy Plover 



The nesting? Yes, yes, dear, I'll come to that. You'll be aston- 

 ished, I know, when I tell you that we nest here. Yes, right here, on this 

 identical beach within the city limits — horses galloping up and down on 

 the wet sand, bathers shouting and running to and fro, children coming 

 up here in the dry sand with their little shovels and buckets, automobiles 

 by the hundred whirling by on the boulevard behind us. And dogs! 



Taken near Santa Barbara 



THE ADVENTURER 



Photo by the A tithor 



They're the worst. When the kiddies come, all we have to do is to 

 crouch down in the sand and keep still, or maybe hide in one of the hollows 

 left by a horse's hoof. They can't see; or if they do, we and our babies 

 can run away fast enough. But when the dogs come, horrid creatures! 

 snuffling and yelping, then I have to get busy and do decoy stunts. All 

 I can do is to trail a "broken" wing, or to nutter and teeter in hope that 

 the sillies will come yapping after. If they do, I lead them a merry chase, 

 and take to wing from the water's edge when they are far enough away 

 from my babies. But sometimes they come too near, and then it's a gulp 

 for the red-mouthed fiend and a heartache for me. 



1325 



