BORN IN A BOAT. I 29 



on the ripple she had left, turning about like a walnut 

 shell, the picture of helplessness and loneliness. 



I wonder w^hat the poor mother thought when she 

 came up in some quiet spot and found that her baby 

 had been lost. She did not return while I waited, 

 but I have no doubt they were soon reunited, and very 

 glad she must have been that it was only a wave that 

 had carried him off, and not a snake or a pickerel. 



But you are waiting to hear about the boat in'which 

 he was born. It does n't sail about, it is true, but it 

 is really a boat at anchor. 



The mother Grebe makes a nest of coarse reeds 

 woven together. The nest is fastened to reeds that 

 are growing out of the water, and often rests upon 

 the water. It gets water soaked, of course, but the 

 shell, with its lining of skin, keeps the moisture out. 

 The eggs are kept warm by the mother bird, and 

 warm moisture does not keep the young from 

 hatching. 



Grebes are most graceful in the water, but seem 

 out of place on shore. Their feet are placed so far 

 back in their bodies that they can hardly walk or 

 stand. 



