IN QUEST OF A NIGHT-ROOST 195 



It was not just the very easiest thing to wade 

 that half mile. There were three feet of water 

 over most of it ; the bottom was clayey and much 

 cut up by the hoofs of cattle in times of low 

 water; and the course had to be picked through 

 a maze of reeds and rushes which completely 

 shut out all view of the surrounding country. 

 But there were rewards around almost every 

 turn in the rushes. Sleepy teal burst off noisily, 

 and loud-voiced mallards gave warning to all 

 and sundry, as they climbed up into the air and 

 fled. But such was the air of security in the 

 place that most of these warnings apparently 

 were unheeded by the marsh folks. Two night 

 herons perched on a rat-house — a favorite roost 

 for all the marsh denizens — awoke with a start, 

 squawked, and flapped off toward the woods. 

 The grebe family were here in numbers, and it 

 evidently was a favorite spot with them. A big 

 Holboel's awaited me around a turn and stayed 

 in sight long enough for me to note that his ruddy 

 neck was rather faded after the wear and tear 

 of the season. Two smaller horned cousins later 

 were so terribly startled at my appearance that 

 they actually took wing — which phrase as ap- 

 plied to a grebe is rather inaccurate and I had 



