II. ^J'. I’ AVNE 
(iol 
WHITE-WINGED SCOTER (OIDEMIA DEGLANDl) 
of spotless snow, rear their heads in silent 
grandeur, a distant reminder that there is 
such a season as winter some place, which 
many of us have never known and many more 
have happily fled from forever. It is in this 
matchless spring, lasting, with only an 
occasional rainy day, through the whole open 
season of four and one-half months that the 
sportsmen of the Pacific Coast enjoy the 
grandest of duck shooting. 
PESCADERO PEBBLES 
By CiL-VKLES Keeler 
Crash of the crystal surf all night on the wind-wild beaches. 
Boom of the billows that break day-long on the pebbled reaches. 
Roar of the riotous waves on rock ridges shattered and sundered. 
Moaning and sobbing and shouting the turbulent elements thundered. 
Idly I lay on the sea-rim, the pebbles I drojiped through my fingers. 
Jewels of jade and of beryl with opaline sea-tint that lingers 
Ixnig as the wild waves wet them where mermaidens tossed them away. 
Sparkling in beauty neglected to glow in the salt sea spray. 
Out of the ocean of longing, whose shore is the heart-rim dreary, 
Peereth a wild mermaiden through turbulent sea-mist eerie. 
Wine-red carnelians ami crystals translucent at my feet flinging. 
And salt tears wet them and leave them aglow by the mad waves singing. 
