Page:Ornithological biography, or an account of the habits of the birds of the United States of America, vol 2.djvu/523

Rh graceful eyelids, and present herself arrayed in aU that was richest and purest before her Creator. Ah, reader, how indelibly are such moments engraved on my soul ! with what ardour have I at such times gazed around me, full of the desire of being enabled to comprehend all that I saw ! How often have I longed to converse with the feathered inhabi- tants of the forest, all of which seemed then intent on offering up their thanks to the object of my own admiration ! But the wish could not be gratified, although I now feel satisfied that I have enjoyed as much of the wonders and beauties of nature as it was proper for me to enjoy. The delightful trills of the Winter Wren rolled through the underwood, the red squirrel smacked time with his chops, the loud notes of the Robin sounded clearly from tlie tops of the trees, the rosy Grosbeak nipped the tender blossoms of the maples, and high over head the Loons passed in pairs, rapidly wending their way toward far distant shores. Would that I could have followed in their wake!

The hour of our departure had come ; and, as we sailed up the bay, our pilot, who had been fishing for cod, was taken on board. A few of his fish were roasted on a plank before the embers, and formed the principal part of our breakfast. The breeze was light, and it was not until after noon that we arrived at Point Lepreaux Harbour, where every one, making choice of his course, went in search of curiosities and provender.

Now, reader, the little harbour in which, if you wish it, we shall suppose we still are, is renowned for a circumstance which I feel much inclined to endeavour to explain to you. Several species of Ducks, that in myriads cover the waters of the Bay of Fundy, are at times destroyed in this particular spot in a very singular manner. When July has come, all the water-birds that are no longer capable of reproducing, remain, like so many forlorn bachelors and old maids, to renew their plumage along the shores. At the period when these poor birds are unfit for flight, troops of Indians make their appearance in light bark-canoes^ paddled by their squaws and papooses. They form their flotilla into an extended curve, and drive before them the birds, not in silence, but with simultaneous horrific yells, at the same time beating the surface of the water with long poles and paddles. Terrified by the noise, the birds swim a long way before them, endeavouring to escape with all their might. The tide is high, every cove is filled, and into the one where we now are, thousands of Ducks are seen entering. The Indians have ceased to shout, and the