56 Birds of Lakeside and Prairie 



the lightning played through a heavy downfall of rain. At 

 seven o'clock there were signs of clearing. The sun peeped 

 out through a break in a cloud bank that hung low over 

 Michigan. An hour later as I stood on the lake shore ready 

 to begin the threading of the ravine, there was no longer any 

 rain and the air was beginning to take on a crispness. 



The first glimpse of bird-life came just before I turned 

 inland. The advance guard of what became a great army of 

 gulls crossed the horizon. They were herring gulls, and in 

 color were in keeping with the gray day. A flock of ducks 

 flew rapidly along below the gulls and parallel to the shore 

 line. They were moving like thought and soon left the gulls 

 far behind. I recognized them as old squaws, wanderers from 

 the far off Arctic. In the middle of winter the old squaw is 

 not an uncommon bird at the southern end of Lake Michigan. 

 When the lake is well filled with ice these northern ducks 

 search for the stretches of open water, and there they seek 

 rest and food. A gunner who took station at the end of the 

 government pier in Chicago one winter's day, killed a hundred 

 old squaws in a few hours' time. When the killing was com- 

 plete, he found out that the birds were unfit for food, and the 

 bodies of the beautiful creatures were thrown away. I left 

 the lake and went into the ravine. On the bank of the little 

 brook at the bottom the air was warm and still. The stream 

 was ice-bound only in places. The locality was like one of the 

 constant succession of scenes that are found in a ramble in 

 New England. Sadly enough, however, June sees this ravine 

 brook dried up, and the July sun withers the flowers at its edge 

 and the foliage on its banks. The ravine's beauty largely 

 will pass, while in New England the mountain-fed streams 

 will keep the summer blossoms bright and the leaves green. 



