The Audubon Societies 473 



the bill, and I am sorry I didn't, now. I think it knew that someone was 

 watching it for it moved very cautiously. We were able to get within nearly 

 five feet of it. We saw two others, but at a distance. 



I took three or four snapshots, but they didn't turn out very well. This one 

 I am sending is the best. This happened in the month of August, at Cape Cod. 

 The only other birds we saw were a wild Duck and Gulls. — Helen Stearly, 

 (age ID years), Montdair, New Jersey. 



[Perhaps with the cue that the feet of the bird in question were yellow, and that they 

 were carried straight downward when it started to fly, together with the fact that the 

 general color of its plumage was gray, our readers can guess the name of the bird. 

 Surely the note about the environment "swamp rushes near the bank, in a little open- 

 ing in the bog" will help. If the bill had been described also, the bird's identity would 

 have been almost surely discovered. — A. H. W.] 



OUR AUDUBON WALK 



It was a bright, clear afternoon in December that we chose for our walk. 

 How refreshing the brisk breeze seemed in comparison with the city's air! 

 You may ask us where did we go. We started at Eagle Road, and walked in a 

 semicircle to a small station called Aronimink. 



We walked on the outskirts of a grove of trees, and then down a hill into 

 another grove of trees. The trees were bare, and many of the chestnut trees 

 had been killed by a disease. There were a great many dry leaves on the 

 ground, under which was hidden the grass which was sure to be beautiful in 

 the spring. Farther in the woods we dug from under the leaves the beautiful, 

 thriving, little vine of the winter. It was the plant which has the perfect, red 

 berries, hidden from view. The Bob-whites feed on them and they are called 

 partridge berries. I dug enough of this winter plant to make a beautiful 

 Japanese basket full of them. On the handle of the basket I tied three but- 

 ton-balls. The button-balls grew upon a tree as perfect as the partridge ber- 

 ries were. The tree was brown and its branches were full laden with the pretty 

 round balls. Behind the tree glowed in full beauty the sun, as it was about 

 to set. 



Along with us we had a small glass through which we examined moss. We 

 saw Darby Creek, and walked along the pieces of ice which were washed up 

 along the shore. After our walk was about half through, we all sat on a rock 

 and ate some sandwiches, which seemed very appropriate at that time. My 

 brother and I sat like two somewhat large squirrels on the outstretched Hmb 

 of an old iron-tree. 



The sun was sinking in the west and we made our way toward the station. 

 We cUmbed up and down hill, and it was the hill on which the station was, 

 where I climbed up, with a little trouble, a small but steep bank, to pick the 

 choice bittersweet. The bittersweet I arranged with a small bunch of hem- 

 lock. This combination made as beautiful a bouquet as the flowers of summer. 



