in quick measure. I loved to go to the shore to see the great flocks of 
     
     birds that resorted there; they varied in size from what we named 
     
     sandhill cranes, but their proper name is Great Blue Heron, to little 
     
     sandpipers. There were great gulls with a sad call; golden plover, 
     
     the swiftest game bird we had; the piping plover had a sweet mourn- 
     
     ful call; the kingfisher was a beautiful bird and a great fisher, but 
     
     very slovenly about its nest. It made a noise like a watchman’s rattle. 
     
     There were little snipes that gave a warning call, if they saw any- 
     
     thing approaching them, and made a great ado when they started to 
     
     fly. We fancied what they said. One would start up with what sound- 
     
     ed like, "here comes John Lot”; then others would chime in, "No it 
     
     isn’t” and the other would reply, “Yes it is”; then when a stone was 
     
     flung at them they would start off with a loud chatter, “Didn’t I tell 
     
     you, didn’t I tell you, didn’t I tell you?” The different species kept by 
     
     themselves, and kept up an almost constant conversation, which they 
     
     seemed to understand. The herons were slow flying birds. We often 
     
     tried to surprise them but they had keen eyes and long necks and kept 
     
     a sharp watch for enemies. They had long legs and would wade out 
     
     in the water and stand still and wait for the fish to pass near them 
     
     when they would spear them with their long sharp bills. Eels were hard 
     
     to hold and would sometimes get away but the heron would catch them 
     
     again and again until they were subdued. It was interesting to watch 
     
     them fishing, and laughable to see them try to start with too heavy a 
     
     load; when fishing was good they would fill themselves so full that 
     
     it was with much effort they could start to fly; if surprised when 
     
     loaded too heavily they would disgorge, or throw up part of their 
     
     load, in order to get away quickly. They made their nests in the trees 
     
     in the woods, and when a large number of them nested near together 
     
     they made a great clattering noise. It would require a whole book to 
     
     describe all the birds we had visit us. We wondered how they found 
     
     their way over hundreds and even thousands of miles of trackless 
     
     space, for even the humming bird came a long distance. They had in 
     
     their heads or somewhere within them, a compass, that never failed 
     
     them. They may have navigated by the stars at night and landmarks 
     
     by day, as mariners did before the compass was invented. They had 
     
     within them an engine of wonderful power and endurance; man never 
     
    
   
   
    
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