AMERICAN ORNITHOLOGY. J (35 



A DAY IN THE MARSH, 

 By R. E. Wilhelm. 



It was on the twentieth of May that, with my note books, I started toward 

 a few of the numerous sloughs near this village. 



As I walked along in the tall grass, beside the railway, 1 scared up a 

 large King Rail. After seeing him drop abruptly into the grass at some 

 distance. I pushed onward. A few paces farther on I was startled by some- 

 thing darting cut into the grass, in a zig-zag course, from almost under my 

 feet. Upon looking, I found, well hidden and shaded in a thick tussock of 

 grass, a fine specimen of a King Rail's nest. 



The nest was made entirely of grass, the outer structure being of coarse 

 and the lining of finer grasses ; the whole being hung, a few inches above the 

 ground, to the stout grasses about it. In the slight depression of the nest lay 

 nine very pretty creamy buff eggs, spotted, rather sparingly, with reddish- 

 brown and lilac. 



The nesting site seemed to be in a rather singular place, as trains passed 

 daily within fifteen feet of the nest. 



Eagerness still urging me onward to see what Nature was doing out in 

 the fields, I pushed on until I arrived at a large slough, over which I pad- 

 dled, delighted with what I saw about me. As I glide along I see, behind 

 a screen of rushes, a pile of weeds, on the top of which is a sunken hollow 

 full of brownish eggs, thickly speckled with black. These are readily 

 recognized as those of the American Coot; many of these nests are found, all 

 filled with eggs, and some nearly hatched. 



Out there on a rush is a large Yellow-head, puffing out his feathers and 

 giving vent to his sonorous voice, while his more sombre-colored helpmeet is 

 finishing her nest of coarse grasses. Out nearer the edge of the slough 

 is a gaudy Red-wing, seeming to keep watch over the nests of his many 

 wives. Some few of these basket-like nests may have one egg in at this date, 

 but the greater number are under completion. 



As I suddenly appear around a bunch of rushes I scare several Coots, 

 which go splashing off toward a place of concealment. In some hidden 

 place I can hear the "pum-er-lunk" of the Bittern and the flute-like whistle 

 of the Sora. Now, as I round another point, I see a Pied-billed Grebe swim- 

 ming away from a small pile of decayed vegetation. Stopping my boat be- 

 side this heap of debris, I see six dirty, stained eggs, covered over with a 

 few pieces of decayed grasses, — evidently the old Grebe did not have time 

 to cover her eggs, as is her custom. 



