OcTOUF.R, 1893.] 



AND OOLOGIST. 



141 



first barrel was a clean miss, but I had the 

 satisfaction to see him double up at my sec- 

 ond. George had missed his Duck with the 

 first barrel, but wing-broke another with his 

 second. We did not stop to chase the 

 wounded Duck but picked up the one 1 

 killed and started down the lake. On the way 

 an old Cormorant came over us ; we both 

 fired at the same time and down it came 

 completely riddled. -•Xs we sailed near a 

 small island my friend said, " What kind of 

 a bird is that sitting on the water near the 

 shore?" I soon saw that it was a Red- 

 throated Loon. It was badly woun<led, and 

 George easily killed it. I saw a number of 

 Gulls feeding on some kind of a dead ani- 

 mal the other side of the island ; .so beaching 

 the boat we .started after them. We sepa- 

 rated and crawled toward the birds. When 

 I was within 40 yards I raised my gun to fire, 

 but at that moment two puffs of smoke arose 

 from the grass not 50 yards from me and I 

 saw a number of birds fall ; but as the others 

 rose I shot one for each barrel. \\'hen we 

 counted the Gulls, we found that there were 

 I Herring Gull, 4 Kittiwakes and 2 Com- 

 mon Terns. 



As we had all the birds we could use, we 

 started back to the boat and kept on our 

 way down the lake. After sailing about a 

 mile we saw a flock of Ducks off to the right 

 of us. I turned the boat's head toward them, 

 but they arose and came within about seventy 

 yards of us. George had a charge of BB 

 shot in his gun, so he blazed away and had 

 the pleasure of seeing one of them fall. Pick- 

 ing it up we found it was a V'elvet Scoter. 

 As it was then about 3 o'clock, I turned the 

 boat about and we started for home. On 

 the way I shot an Osprey that came sailing 

 over. It was dark when we reached home 

 with our birds. Just before we arrived at 

 the house an Owl flew past. We could not 

 get a shot at it. Reaching home 1 began 

 work on the liirds we had killed. 



Claude G. Dim II. 

 Ocean \'iew, R.I. 



A Day's Ramble. 



Sunday, May 24, 1893, was a beautiful 

 day, warm and pleasant, just the one for a 

 ramble in the woods. Starting at 10 o'clock, 

 I went north to the city limits, taking a car 

 there and riding to Gross Park, a little vil- 

 lage about two miles out. I arrived there 

 at 1 1 o'clock and went to the Chicago river, 

 which flows through that district. What a 

 river ! On one side a vast prairie and on 

 the other thick woods — a muddy, sluggish 

 stream with no current. Following the ri\er 

 to the north, the woods are thick and dark, 

 while now and then I jjassed a clearing and 

 saw tree trunks that had been blasted by 

 lightning, where they had fallen years ago. 

 " What an untold joy it is to find oneself on 

 a fine day in the woods with nature." The 

 ground was covered with all kinds of wild 

 flowers, while wild grape vines covered many 

 of the old oak trees. Ivy and other vines 

 were there. Wild rose bushes were plenti- 

 ful and wild violets were all over, while large 

 dandelions looked like sheets of gold. The 

 cherry and apple trees were abundant. Moss 

 of all shades, from light to dark green, cover 

 rocks and trees. Sitting down on a large 

 rock in the shade, within a stone's throw of 

 the river, I watched the birds fly by and lis- 

 tened to their songs. The hammering of the 

 Woodpecker near by in a tall tree, seeking 

 a soft spot in the wood to make a home, was 

 interesting. The harsh cry of the Jay was 

 heard now and then, while a Crow was seen 

 flying to the north. Silence for awhile, then 

 broken by the song of the Thrush and Robin, 

 while Blue Birds, Mreos and Catbirds flitted 

 from tree to tree. Large Toads hopped 

 about; while Frogs were plentiful. They 

 were quiet. Now a Grass Snake glided by 

 me, perhaps in search of food, so I let him 

 go peacefully. I started for home, as it was 

 getting late and arrived in time for supper, 

 wishing that I could sjicnd days like this in 

 woods. Philip D. 



Chicago, III. 



