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THE] OOLOGlSt 



ly at short intervals for ten minutes 

 and lier mate swam slowly in to the 

 patch of rushes where the nest was 

 built. The female slipped off the nest 

 and swam out into the lake and the 

 male took her place on the eggs. 



Few other birds were seen along 

 the shore except Mallards, Coots and 

 Loons. 



Our camp is on the edge of the 

 muddy, swollen creek, a few rods 

 from an Indian's house. He gave us 

 piles of beaver hay for bedding and 

 his "klutch," a "Cultus potlatch," 

 (little present) in the shape of a dish 

 of stewed rhubarb. 



Across the creek is a grove of lordly 

 cottonwoods and some cleared land. 

 Mosquitos settled on us in dense 

 clouds and we spent the evening in a 

 thick smudge; as is usual in the moun- 

 tains they all disappeared shortly af- 

 ter sundown when the air became 

 cooler. 



Close over our heads in the green 

 center of an aspen, only half visible 

 in the waning light, a Catbird is sing- 

 ing profusely, a sustained ecst&sy of 

 melody, greeting the new risen, honey- 

 colored moon. Hiyuh wah-wah, the 

 Indian calls him. 



June 15. Six Barrows Golden-eye 

 were in the river close to the tent; 

 they were feeding in the still, dead 

 water, where the river had overflown 

 is banks. These were young of last 

 year and were not breeding. They 

 seemed to be responding to an abora- 

 tive mating instinct, that showed it- 

 self in excited chasing and playing, in 

 simulation of the courtship actions of 

 the adults in the spring. Several of 

 them kept flying into holes in the 

 dead cottonwoods, that, upon later in- 

 vestigation, proved to be empty. Three 

 stood on a partly submerged log and 

 cleaned their feather with their bills. 

 No adults of either sex were seen. 



A handsome drake American Mer- 



ganser was fishing at the mouth of 

 the creek, the first slanting rays of 

 the sun burnishing his sleek green 

 head and salmon colored breast. 



This lake is teeming with fish. The 

 Indians took us out in a punt and we 

 caught Steelheads, Suckers, Squaw- 

 fish whiteflsh and that curious little 

 degenerate salmon, the Kokanee. This 

 little fish is found in most of the lakes 

 of British Columbia and its life-hist- 

 ory is exactly that of the salmon, ex- 

 cept that it is spent entirely in fresh 

 water. At this time of year they are 

 bright silver; in the autumn when run- 

 ning up the creeks to spawn the sil- 

 ver scales have been shed and the 

 males are a rich salmon-red on the 

 side and back. The bait we were 

 given to use was in the nature of a 

 revelation — ants' eggs and wild rose 

 petals, wrapped on the hook with 

 thread! 



We left Nicola Lake at eleven a. m. 

 and reached Salmon River late in 

 the afternoon. A seventyfive mile 

 run, the first half through an open 

 cattle country, of roiling bunch-grass 

 hills and deep narrow lakes — the 

 shores open and with no cover for 

 waterfowl. The latter part down hill, 

 through mile after mile of yellow pine. 



We are camped in a clearing in the 

 forest just above the Salmon River. 

 Thick fir forest shuts us in on three 

 sides. The river, muddy and opaque, 

 from the spring freshet is between us 

 and an opening in the hills through 

 which we can see, a few cleared fields, 

 then more forest and far in the dis- 

 tance, bare bunch-grass hills. 



There is the usual evening chorus 

 of Olive-backed and Willow Thrushes 

 but the forest is too thick to attract 

 many birds. This is twenty miles 

 from home and our last day. 



