The Eastern Shore

STOCKTON, Md., July 24. -- Once more the soft whistle of the yellowleg sounds from the marshes, borne on the breeze that waves the long salt grass like the billows of an ocean -- mile on mile of undulating green, full of ponds, inlets and bays, stretching away until lost in the shadow of the dark, unbroken line of pine woods as far as the eye can see. On the ocean side uprises a border of glistening white sand dunes, piled high by the even pounding surf. Over this wide expanse of marsh and islands pass thousands of shore birds, stopping to feed in the half-dry ponds or following the waves up and down over the flat ocean beach. What mixed lot they are -- willet, yellowlegs, dowitchers, greybacks, bay birds and sandpipers and plovers of many kinds. There is no quarreling, no chasing or picking each other; all are intent on the one business of capturing as many snails, bugs, shellfish and worms as their quick eyes can detect in the mud and shifting sand. They are always moving, always eating, seemingly never full.

Mosquitoes, you say? Certainly we have mosquitoes! Who ever heard of a salt marsh without mosquitoes? Not only one kind, but nine or even more, we are told, each with its own particular way of cultivating your acquaintance. Now in the mountains and North Woods you have the black flies; in the Southern woods you have green flies, sheep flies and ticks; on the southern coast you have midges, and over the fields and farms, North and South, you have the harvest midges. But go where you will, if there is a pond, lake or river near, you have the inevitable mosquito. We are not the only spot. However, a netting thrown over your head as you walk to your pond, saves all blood shedding; then when you are quiet in your blind, your decoys all out, the mosquitoes settle away again and you are little disturbed, unless you persist in getting up and running about through the grass.

Generally the flights stop and feed in goodly numbers, keeping the marshes well worked from the middle of July until the middle of August. Then the late flight is on, which often is here far into September. Then again the feeding conditions do not seem to suit the birds, and flight after flight will pass on down the coast to be seen no more until spring. Plenty of fresh rain water on the marshes holds the yellowlegs and other marsh feeders; low tides and bare mud flats draw the other flight birds. If the birds are moving well, the shooting is fast, and the sport something to be remembered, but if birds are scarce and not flying, the sun gets very hot, the marsh smells bad, the mosquitoes bother and the whole thing is mean.

The whole country here is full of quail. I have never seen so many old birds in early summer, and as we have had no rain to hurt since the first of June, I do not think the young birds can now be in any danger. Driving four miles along our road last week, I counted eighteen birds that I saw on the fences and in the road, and I heard as many if not more whistling back in the fields and along the edge of woods. I look for good shooting this fall, and as the season does not open until Nov. 10, the birds will be big and strong.

O. D. FOULKS.