Now, in place of gulls, there were a few dove-gray, black and white quawks perched on the outer branches of overhanging trees like heavy sculptured ornaments, or standing in the water with their spear-head bills ready poised for a frog or small fish. I have heard it said, incidentally, that these night herons keep the gulls away. I have never witnessed any aggressive action between the two races. On the whole they seem to respect each other’s territory and to keep their distance from each other; but I have seen quawks and gulls together waiting for little alewives on the flats beyond Paine’s Creek. In the brook there were still some fish ascending, but many more were going back. It is a little hard to tell the difference at first, since both face up against the current, but the returning alewives gradually drop back, and many of them have the characteristic white marks on them of fresh-water fungus infection. The strain of spawning and using up their store of fat makes them thin, slow, and weary. They have lost a good deal of their vigor, though not to the extent of preventing the return journey. In spite of this “spring fever” day it was not that the greatness of events was over ... only the first great toppling of a wave, only the first violent forwardness with its illimitable sounds and changes. There was a steadier greenness on the trees, and blossoms on the high lilacs. The run waters went on with a constant wail and wah, if without the turbulence of a few weeks earlier. I left the Herring Run and walked up into the warm pine woods to try and find the culminative point of the migration. A light wind was running straight down the long surfaces of the Upper Mill Pond when I reached it, and little waves scudded ahead. I walked on the north side where sandy banks descended to the shore, shaded by pitch pines and covered with viburnum bushes and bearberry, a pink-blossomed, shiny-leaved ground cover locally known as “hog cranberry.” There were stretches of amber sand, small stones, or gravel, along the pond’s edge. A fat sucker jumped for a fly and crashed heavily back into the water. All at once I heard a light thrashing and noticed a large water snake under a blueberry bush. It had dropped a small salamander that was twisting over and over on the ground, its damp body collecting bits and shreds of dry leaves. As I came up, the snake hung over a low-lying branch and watched me, its mouth slightly open with a little toothed white and pink jawline showing. I picked up the salamander and dropped it into the pond, where it hesitated for a few seconds and then wiggled away into a patch of green ooze and deeper water. With a stick, I tossed the snake twenty feet away, thus establishing myself as universal arbitrator.