neck, head and beak, and its two lanky legs. It seems to lose a minute's time 

 trying to dispose of the impedimenta properly before it spreads its wings for 

 the start. 



We left the entrance to the heron's retreat and pulled our way up the river. 

 Going against the current of the Kankakee means the mingling of some work 

 with the day's play. The journey of ten minutes going down is a journey of 

 twenty minutes going up. There are, however, plenty of bird excuses for stop- 

 ping to rest. A small heron pitched on to an island in midstream, fully a hundred 

 yards ahead of our boat. The island was grass-grown, but we succeeded in 

 marking the spot of the bird's disappearance fairly accurateh'. We made up our 

 minds that we would try to see how close we could approach before this wary 

 bird of the bog should take flight. We kept in the open water until we reached 

 a place abreast of where the heron had disappeared, then turning the prow of our 

 boat toward the island, a few lusty strokes sent us ashore. The bird had gone 

 into the grass not ten yards from the water. We searched the spot thoroughly 

 with our glasses but saw nothing. I was about to jump out of the boat for the 

 purpose of flushing the heron when my wiser friend told me if I jumped ofif into 

 the mud I could never get out again. I was incredulous, but after I had poked 

 an oar down into the black oozy stufif without meeting with the slightest resist- 

 ance I concluded to stay in the boat. I had hardly pulled the oar out of the mud 

 before the heron rose and made off for a tree top. It was a little green heron, 

 called in many country sections "fly-up-the-creek." It is probable that had not 

 the protective coloring of the bird been so perfect we could have readily picked 

 it out from its surroundings as it stood in the lush grasses of the island. When 

 the heron reached the tree toward which it flew, it took perch on a dead limb and 

 there silhouetted against the sky made a perfect ]3icture. 



We left the green heron staring at the sky and once more pulled hard against 

 the stream. Our destination now was English Lake proper, which opens out to 

 the right and left of the railroad bridge. Beneath this structure the contracted 

 Kankakee sweeps swiftly. By the time of the year of our visit, well into the 

 month of May, the lake was a lake in name only, though the land in many places 

 was still under water. About half a mile above the bridge we saw ahead of us 

 on the open water a great flock of ducks. Our glasses told us beyond much 

 doubt that the birds were blue-bills, more scientifically known, perhaps, as scaup 

 ducks. We pulled directly toward the flock. What follows shows how quickly 

 wild birds gain confidence after the shooting season closes. We reached a point 

 well within gunshot of the blue-bills before they paid any attention to us. We 

 had no advantage of cover whatsoever. A month before these same birds would 

 have been up and oft' while tlie boat even to their keen vision had been but a 

 black dot upon the water. \\'e drew closer. One of the ducks rose and in 

 another instant the whole air was awhir with their wings. I was kneeling on the 

 forward seat of the boat looking ahead through my glasses at the blue-bills. 

 Suddenly I heard the squawk of a duck within four feet of me. I turned in 



475 



