268 BIRDS OF FIELD, FOREST AND PARK 



face, ruffled by the gentle west wind, sparkling 

 in the brilliant sunshine. On the farther shore 

 a doe is leisurely wading along, now plucking 

 the tender water grasses, now raising her slender 

 neck for a bit of the cedar boughs to spice her 

 meal. By the little cabin of rough logs built 

 many years ago by a hunter, I find another 

 visitor trying to gain entrance and judging 

 from the size of the hole he had already gnawed, 

 he would soon have succeeded but for the inter- 

 ruption. Unwilling to entertain a hedgehog at 

 lunch, I seek a stout stick and drive him some 

 distance away, leaving him only after admin- 

 istering a good drubbing on his quill-protected 

 back. 



As I appear at the boat landing the deer 

 gazes at me for an instant and vanishes; the 

 cedar branches closing behind give no sign of 

 her presence. Quickly paddling to the farther 

 shore I am soon engaged in my favorite sport, 

 and the response of the red-finned, red-spotted 

 inhabitants of the lake is both prompt and 

 earnest. A Blue Jay passes inshore, his strange 

 silence indicating the domestic nature of his 

 errand. A ''Lone Fisherman" rattles by, and 

 perching on a dead limb well out over the water 

 declares his purpose of catching a trout, although 

 he has no gaudy flies to tempt them. Soon he 

 plunges, emerges with a wriggling fish and dis- 

 appears around the point where, no doubt, he 

 has a family to provide for. 



Loon. Presently a dark cloud overspreads 

 the sky, the wind freshens, and from the middle 

 of the lake comes the lonesome cry of a Loon. 



