104 
BIRD LIFE IN WASHINGTON 
One or two pair come to this point every 
year. The first year I met them there, I 
hunted for five weeks for the nest, so 
easily do the birds fool us in our greener 
years. At last I gave up. The little spot¬ 
ted teetering things would lead me off the 
beach among the grasses, then raise their 
dainty wings and fly away over the lake, 
calling: “Wait, wait, wait.” If I waited 
but a little while I could see them return, 
but only to repeat the game of fool. 
One day I was walking over the point, 
paying no heed to the Pipers, when a little 
anxious parent darted across my path, 
saying, “See then, see then.” I sat down 
and earnestly tried to “see then,” but 
there was nothing interesting in sight ex¬ 
cept the little teetering mother who would 
not come quite to me. 
Presently out of the corner of my eye, 
I saw a movement and, turning quickly, 
I found within a foot of where I ivas sit¬ 
ting a small depression containing three 
brown, striped, fluffy balls crouched close 
to the ground. The fourth had just start¬ 
ed out to see the big world. Had it kept 
still, I might not have found the nest. 
The colors of the young are so much like 
the colors of the ground. 
Sometimes I have watched and waited 
for an hour and a half for a parent to go 
to its nest that I knew must be hidden 
somewhere near, but the little bird was 
