I was now desirous of seeing one of the sitting birds on its nest, and leaving my hiding place, slowly, and as silently as possible, proceeded toward the nearest islet on which I knew a nest to be, having the evening before, to mark the precise spot, broken some of the weeds, which were now withered by the heat of the sun. You, good Reader, will not, I am sure, think me prolix; but as some less considerate persons may allege that I am tediously so, I must tell them here that no student of Nature ever was, or ever can be, too particular while thus marking the precise situation of a bird’s nest. Indeed, I myself have lost many nests by being less attentive. After this short but valuable lecture, you and I will do our best to approach the sitting bird unseen by it. Although a person can advance but slowly when wading through mud and water knee-deep, it does not take much time to get over forty or fifty yards, and thus I was soon on the small island where the Avoset was comfortably seated on her nest. Softly and on all four I crawled toward the spot, panting with heat and anxiety. Now, Reader, I am actually within three feet of the unheeding creature, peeping at her through the tall grasses. Lovely bird! how innocent, how unsuspecting, and yet how near to thine enemy, albeit he be an admirer of thy race! There she sits on her eggs, her head almost mournfully sunk among the plumage, and her eyes, unanimated by the sight of her mate, half closed, as if she dreamed of future scenes. Her legs are bent beneath her in the usual manner. I have seen this, and I am content. Now she observes me, poor thing, and off she scrambles,—running, tumbling, and at last rising on wing, emitting her clicking notes of grief and anxiety, which none but an inconsiderate or callous-hearted person could hear without sympathizing with her. The alarm is sounded, the disturbed bird is floundering hither and thither over the pool, now lying on the surface as if ready to die, now limping to induce me to pursue her and abandon her eggs. Alas, poor bird! Until that day I was not aware that gregarious birds, on emitting cries of alarm, after having been scared from their nest, could induce other incubating individuals to leave their eggs also, and join in attempting to save the colony. But so it was with the Avosets, and the other two sitters immediately rose on wing and flew directly at me, while the one with the four younglings betook herself to the water, and waded quickly off, followed by her brood, which paddled along swimming, to my astonishment, as well as ducklings of the same size.