"From Haunts of Coot and Hern" 121 



to swing its cradle. It took to a treetop perch, however, and 

 made no movement toward its nesting-place until we were 

 well out of sight. It was Sunday, May 19th, and the river was 

 still flowing with nearly even banks. We started down 

 stream letting the current take us almost as it would. We 

 passed a little rift, startling into flight a half-dozen "tip-ups" 

 that circled the prow of our boat and made off up the river, 

 peeping complainingly. We reached a patch of timber with 

 plenty of deadwood still standing, but leaning heavily toward 

 the river. There we landed, for we hoped to find the pro- 

 thonotary warblers building in the rotting stumps. We found 

 the birds in all the beauty of their orange dress, but if they 

 had decided on homestead sites they kept their secret well. 



Walking up the river bank a little way to the edge of the 

 towering timber, we found a man and two boys fishing. They 

 had had no luck. It was too early, they said, and there was 

 still too much water in the river. It was while talking to 

 them that we saw a moving streak in the water. The ripple 

 with its shining trail came nearer and nearer, and in a moment 

 we saw that it was a snake with uplifted head, that was swim- 

 ming for the bank at our feet. I have never liked snakes well 

 enough to care to scrape acquaintance with them. I have 

 never been able to take well to heart Dr. Abbott's teaching 

 of the beauty and friendliness of the serpent tribe. The snake 

 that was swimming the Kankakee that spring morning was 

 surely four feet long, and it had a certain beauty of coloring 

 that pleased the eye even while the mind loathed. The man 

 of the fishing party said the snake visitor was a blue-racer and 

 that it was "as pizen as a rattler." We doubted the truth of 

 this latter assertion, but in the face of it we could not but 

 admire the cool indifference of one of the small boy fishers, 



