104 THE CONDOR Vol. XXII 
other pastures, was seen soaring with red fan outspread, or going along with 
its heavy steady flight so different from the light tilting beat of the Marsh 
Hawk, its squealing ery being given perhaps to start the small animals run- 
ning out from cover. A Nighthawk, wandering after the nesting season, was 
flushed from a square of plowed ground, to which it soon returned as if 
realizing how well it was hidden there, reminding me of one seen on Devil’s 
Lake which half decoyed as she rose from the two dull eggs that lay casually 
on the ground, her tail hanging straight and limp until she was clear of us. 
Three Willets, perhaps part of the family met with previously on the 
road, spent some of their time for a week or more on our pasture slough. As 
they walked about over the hummocky, cattle-tracked ground on the edge of 
the water, their necks moved forward and back, and they fed rapidly, picking 
first from one side and then from the other, in their preoccupation often 
plumping down with one leg into a deep foot print, and when necessary wad- 
ing up to their knees as freely as Crows walk on bare ground. In resting they 
would ordinarily stand humped up. Over their heads Barn Swallows some- 
times flew about, also hunting from the slough. The Willets in going from 
one end of the long pasture slough to the other, perhaps hurried by my pres- 
ence, would make short flights, showing their handsome black and white wing 
pattern and white rump. When I was absorbedly watching them one day, 
a small animal almost ran against my foot in the grass, and on looking down 
I caught sight of a golden brown weasel fleeing across the open. 
Very few waders were seen during the migration, but one pretty flock 
of Snipe of various sizes was discovered in the corner of a neighbor’s pasture, 
picking along the soft edge of a shallow rain pool, chattering and playing in 
delightfully animated style. Two large Yellow-legs waded about up to their 
bodies, and two of the smallest of the Sandpipers, probably the Least, with 
strong dark markings on the back, a line down the wing, and dark middle tail 
feathers, lifted their wings high at each other in pretty play, and then ran 
chattering about their business, while another small wader, presumably the 
Semipalmated Plover, with white forehead and dark collar, stood soberly 
looking on at the busy scene. 
A week later, August 28, just before dace I heard the voices of shore- 
birds outside, and stepping out on the piazza discovered a large compact flock 
circling around again and again, low over the ground, talking volubly in argu- 
mentative tones, as if the next step were in dispute. Then suddenly as if a 
conclusion had been reached, with beautiful unanimity they rose, and show- 
ing points of light swung off toward the lake. Had they come at last to my 
door? I was greatly excited, having almost entirely missed their migration. 
But though I hurried down to the shore the next morning, they were not to 
be found, and had doubtless gone on their way to the south. 
Flocks of Blackbirds were moving about here as at East Sweetwater, and 
a mixed flock of Yellow-heads and Red-wings, old and young, sitting on a 
fence, instead of all being headed one way, showed a confused line of heads 
and tails that would have seemed scandalously individualistic to the White 
Pelicans! A small flock of Brewer Blackbirds swung in near Stony Point at 
Sunset on the first of September, flying down to the foot of the canes for a 
last drink, and then swinging back to the trees as if to roost, though many 
of the Blackbirds preferred the canes for the purpose. At Stony Point the 
night before the Blackbirds came, the rattle of a Kingfisher made me look up 
