SANDPIPERS, QUAIL, AND 
KILDEER 
Tripping light as a sandpiper over the beach, 
Swerving this way and that, as the wave of the moment 
Washes out its slight trace with a dash of the foam on’t. 
Lowell. 
O N the beach near our camp was the 
nest of a spotted sandpiper, or 
teeter,” a fascinating little bird familiar to 
all dwellers by inland lakes. He had chosen 
a beautiful spot for his home at the foot of 
a clump of pink clover, where the ground 
sloped gently to the water’s edge. The 
nest was of dry grass moulded to roundness, 
and partly covered by the overhanging 
clover blossoms. But for flushing the 
mother, we might not have discovered it. 
In it were four dull buff eggs, thickly 
blotched with purplish brown. The little 
mother sat very close, and we never once 
went to the nest without finding her there. 
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