AN APRIL HIKE 39 



eyed me curiously; then he coolly lit on the lake- 

 shore and stood and watched me. 



It was all very plain. The previous summer, 

 a honker pair had nested on a little island in a 

 slough just up the creek. I saw the family in 

 August when the brood of five were grown, just 

 before the shooters from the lodge nearby turned 

 loose in the marsh, and, as the keeper assured 

 me, "got them all but two before they went 

 south." And here doubtless was this shot- 

 scarred, old veteran of a gander, with either his 

 former wife, or a new one, willing to take up 

 again the unequal struggle. His anxious atti- 

 tude and warning honk told plainly that he was 

 on guard and that, even at this early date, the 

 mate was on her nest, probably on the old site. 



Five miles around the lake shore, I struck the 

 timber — grand old oaks and elms, that, hemmed 

 in between the sloughs and the lake, have es- 

 caped the fires of the past and grown to stature 

 befitting their race. Here in a little opening 

 where the sod was warm, I lay down to rest and 

 listen to the " widdy widdy widdy " of a junco 

 company just returned, playing, as it were, an 

 alto accompaniment to the tree sparrows' quaint 

 musical airs ; to the first spring " Cheer-up " of a 



