Bird watching; Birds; Natural history -- Outdoor books; New England
My comrade and I separated for a little, losing sight of each other
among the sand-hills, and when we came together again he reported that
he had seen the sparrow. He had happened upon it unobserved, and had
been favored with excellent opportunities for scrutinizing it carefully
through a glass at short range; and being familiar with its appearance
through a study of cabinet specimens, he had no doubt whatever of its
identity. This was within five minutes of our arrival, and naturally we
anticipated no difficulty in finding others; but for two or three hours
we followed the chase in vain. Twice, to be sure, a sparrow of some sort
flew up in front of us, but in both cases it got away without our
obtaining so much as a peep at it. Up and down the beach we went,
exploring the basins and sliding down the smooth, steep hills. Every
step was interesting, but it began to look as if I must go home without
seeing _Ammodramus princeps_. But patience was destined to have its
reward, and just as we were traversing the upper part of the beach for
the last time, I caught a glimpse of a bird skulking in the grass before
us. He had seen us first, and was already on the move, ducking behind
the scattered tufts of beach-grass, crouching and running by turns; but
we got satisfactory observations, nevertheless, and he proved to be,
like the other, an Ipswich sparrow. He did not rise, but finally made
off through the grass without uttering a sound. Then we examined his
footprints, and found them to be, so far as could be made out, the same
as we had been noticing all about among the hills.
Meanwhile, our perambulations had not been in vain. Flocks of snow
buntings were seen here and there, and we spent a long time in watching
a trio of horned larks. These were feeding amid some stranded rubbish,
and apparently felt not the slightest suspicion of the two men who stood
fifteen or twenty feet off, eying their motions. It was too bad they
could not hear our complimentary remarks about their costumes, so
tastefully trimmed with black and yellow. Our loudest exclamations,
however, were called forth by a dense flock of sea-gulls at the distant
end of the beach. How many hundreds there were I should not dare to
guess, but when they rose in a body their white wings really filled the
air, and with the bright sunlight upon them they made, for a landsman, a
spectacle to be remembered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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