THE OOLOGIST 



9 



jeweled ear pendent that resemblance 

 which gave it the name. Thousands 

 of little bays, rush-bordered and still, 

 afford sanctuary for the myriad water, 

 and other fowl that nest here. 



A gasoline launch, a row boat, hip 

 boots aud industry are absolute nec- 

 essities to the nest hunting enthusiast 

 in these waters. 



But given these and a fair knowledge 

 of the nesting habits of the various 

 feathered citizens, you may collect un- 

 til visions of despoiled birds rise up and 

 haunt you in your dreams. 



I will suppose you with me on a trip 

 that fell to my good fortune last spring. 

 Just as the sun rose over the eastern 

 mountain tops and made the lake one 

 sheen of burnished silver, we got the 

 "Lady of the Lake" under weigh and 

 sped out across the lake to yon distant 

 point which mark the entrance to a 

 beautiful little cove that rej ■\^ea in the 

 rather unpoetical name ''Bottle Bay". 

 Across the mouth hangs a heavy fog 

 as if to guard the feathered inmates be- 

 yond from the vandal hand of man. 



Just as we near the promontory that 

 is the nearer sentinel the fog is rolled 

 up and swept away as though some 

 Titanic scene shifter had pulled it up 

 with invisible ropes, disclosing to our 

 view a scene of great beauty and 

 grandeur. The bay is about two miles 

 in length, cut into the eternal hills that 

 rise fir crowned and vast a thousand 

 feet on either side 



Perfectly calm it reflects the hills 

 and rocks as a mighty mirror, forming 

 a scene of indescribable grandeur and 

 beauty, a picture for an artist to limn 

 upon canvass, but none but a master 

 hand should desecrate a scene so beauti 

 ful. But this is not birds. 



As we round the point we make out 

 just ahead two birds swimming, that 

 remind one strangely of iron-clad moni- ' 

 tors so low do they sit in the water. 

 Your glass is brought to bear and the 

 birds both disappear to emerge from 



the water several hundred yards further 

 in shore. This time you have plenty of 

 time to inspect them and the pointed bill 

 and feather markings say "Western 

 Grebe". We run in as close as possible 

 and moor the "Lady getting out the 

 row boat for a push among the rushes 

 that skirt the shore. 



We startle thousands of Red-wing 

 Blackbirds and Long-billed Marsh 

 Wrens that circle above us with their 

 startled cries. 



Hold? Back water. There is some- 

 thing right under our bow that looks 

 like a mass of dried grass and tules but 

 to the trained eye looks suspiciously 

 like a nest, though if so, it is cunningly 

 covered up. Pushing alongside it and 

 lifting off the top layer we find concealed 

 three eggs, that were they not stained 

 with the rotting vegetation would be 

 blueish green but the staining renders 

 them a dirty yellow. So we have 

 made a good beginning. 



In fact, we have begun at the start. 



This is the nest of No., 1. of the A. O. 

 U. check lis^, the Western Grebe that 

 we saw backyonder»at the entrance of 

 Bay and no doubt the nest of that 

 identical pair of birds. The nest is 

 floating upon the surface of the water 

 moored to the growing tules and com- 

 posed of such masses of the rotting 

 weeds as the birds could collect around 

 the immediate spot. It looks very 

 much as if it had'merely drifted together 

 but there is a certain form and com- 

 pactness about it that shows to the 

 trained eye that it is not altogether the 

 work of the elements. Securing the 

 eggs we push on toward the shore. 



The water is now only a few feet 

 deep and is overgrown with the pads of 

 the pond lily. What bird is that who 

 with outstretched wings and neck is 

 running with the speed of a horse o/er 

 the very water it seems? A charge of 

 shot from the collecting gun brings him 

 down and we are at leisure to examine 

 him more closely. The upturned bill, 



