A MINSTREL OF THE MARSHES 
would cuddle into the nest again. During 
this waiting time the pride and interest of 
the handsome father were amusing. Except 
when necessary to obtain food, he never left 
his place on the tall rushes by the side of 
the nest. No movement of those young- 
sters escaped him. Often after an unusually 
vigorous wing-flapping by one of them, he 
would go a little nearer and utter two or 
three interrogative and rather musical chucks, 
as if to encourage the youngster to try again. 
Although we had resolved to camp right 
by this nest, with a camera, and see every 
stage of flying, the first effort took place 
during a temporary absence, and the others 
so early in the morning that an “ instanta- 
neous,” which was the only thing possible, 
was a failure. The young stayed about the 
vicinity of the nest for several days, but 
were seldom to be found on the tops of 
rushes. They seemed to slide down between 
them, and crouch on the floating vegetation. 
I now saw the reason for the glint of blue in 
their wings, for so perfectly does their color- 
59 
