356 



Bird- Lore 



bird managed to get the greater part 

 through the mesh of the wires. 



"Since then he and his mate have come 

 every season to be fed from the cooler- 

 cupboard, and every year they have 

 raised a family in their hanging-nest some- 

 where herein the yard." — Ella Getchell, 

 Willmar, Miun. 



Memories of a Rainy Day 



Today as 1 sit thinking of many things 

 and listening to the patter of the raindrops 

 without, the character of the day calls to 

 my mind another rainy day in the spring 

 when I spent two of the most delightful 

 hours of my life looking in upon a center of 

 bird activity. 



It was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon 

 when Sam and I set out to a pond nearly 

 2 miles east of town which is known as the 

 'Lily Pond' because of the large water- 

 lilies found there in summer. We 'plopped' 

 along in the mud and water through a 

 slow, drizzling rain. A great many heavy 

 rains had fallen that spring, and every 

 little depression in the ground was stand- 

 ing full of water. 



After nearly an hour of wading through 

 the mud we arrived at the pond, which, 

 on account of the heavy rains, was higher 

 than usual. It is a shallow, marshy pond 

 200 yards long and 50 yards wide. The 

 water extends 20 to 30 feet back among the 

 masses of sedges and rushes. It is an ideal 

 place for marsh birds. About 6 feet from 

 the north bank, projecting out of the water, 

 is a ridge 3 to 4 feet wide and over 50 feet 

 long. Upon this ridge, and about 30 feet 

 from a small branching willow tree, is a 

 large pile of brush. 



We crawled along through the sumac 

 bushes and high grass on the north until 

 we got close to the pond. Hiding behind 

 a clump of little scrubby trees near the 

 edge, we saw a large number of Coots and 

 five Spoonbill, or Shoveller Ducks, — 

 three drakes and two hens. 



A great amount of bird-life was on the 

 pond. Looking east I could see the Ducks 

 and down in the west end I discovered an 

 old Mallard hen. I counted the Mud-hens 



or Coots. There were between twenty-five 

 and thirty. As I looked across the pond 

 a large Bittern came over from the river 

 and alighted among the sedges. From 

 time to time I could see him stepping 

 about, searching for his evening meal, and 

 once or twice I heard his hoarse squawk. 

 Hearing a noise at my left I turned and 

 saw a reddish brown bird with a long bill 

 and moderately long legs sitting upon the 

 brush-pile. His head was drawn down 

 against his shoulders, and he appeared to 

 have a very short neck. He sat there 

 calmly gazing out across the pond and 

 often uttering a single, short, nasal call- 

 note, similar in quality to that of the 

 Nighthawk, but of shorter duration. He 

 was a puzzler to me. I had never seen one 

 like him nor heard the call before. 



About this time it was getting darker. 

 The rain had slackened. Bird-notes sprang 

 up from everywhere. From all parts of the 

 marsh came the rapid rattlings and duck- 

 ings which I knew to be the call-notes of 

 the Rails then feeding. Twitterings and 

 peepings of Sandpipers and Phalaropes 

 could be heard along the ridge. Across the 

 pond from me a flock of lesser Yellow- 

 legs walked about searching for food. 

 Their long, stilt-like legs seemed almost 

 too weak and unsteady to hold up their 

 weight. I heard a splashing from the east. 

 A flock of birds, twelve in number, came 

 out from the weeds along the north bank, 

 and sitting low in the water, their backs 

 hardly showing, glided out toward the 

 middle of the pond. They swam in the 

 shape of a large V, a large one leading. 

 Again a splash and they could not be seen. 

 In a few seconds they appeared again, 

 widely scattered over the surface of the 

 pond. The.y continued the leaping, splash- 

 ing, and diving as if they heartily enjoyed 

 it and were having a good frolic. I recog- 

 nized them as Pied-billed Grebes. 



The Coots scattered and some came so 

 close that I could have touched them. The 

 Spoonbills came back down the pond and 

 passed me not 15 feet away. Another 

 splash, as a muskrat, cleaving the water, 

 swam up the pond, carrying a piece of a 

 sedge for his house. I could see the Caro- 



