Stepping off the gravel road encircling Poplar Island, I walked gingerly down a small hill, salt meadow hay crunching beneath my feet.
?Keep going,? urged Laura Baldwin, our guide. ?Slowly.?
I took a few more steps, and suddenly, just feet in front of us, a mallard flew up from a hidden spot in the field. Baldwin walked to where the duck had been sitting, lifted a flap of grasses and revealed a nest of nine perfect eggs. I inched closer, delighted. This wasn?t what I?d been expecting when I signed up for a tour of the island, but for our first stop, it was a good start.
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Source: http://feeds.washingtonpost.com/click.phdo?i=475e250347054ec46835ce534306eea6
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