MIDDLE OF MAY 49 
pike, both great and small. As the eye gets 
accustomed to the light, a busy scene of 
smaller life presents itself upon the water 
bed: the lively water-boatman plies his 
tiny pair of oars, and water-beetles of all 
sizes, each with a little bead of air upon his 
back that gives him life, are hurrying to and 
fro, popping from time to time up to the 
water's brim to renew their bead of oxygen 
when it gets small. And_fishspawn-loving 
caddisworms are crawling slowly by, carry- 
ing along their little houses of queer build, 
adorned with sticks and dead snail shells. 
Soon they will take their flight on gaudy 
wing, wondrously metamorphosed into pretty 
shapes: May-flies we shall call them then. 
Countless other insects are also there, scurry- 
ing to and fro, seeking their daily bread. 
Such was the spot we started to explore. 
Ted did not need to say it was a likely place 
for nests. So, tearing our way through 
thick and thin, we entered on our quest. 
Whirr, whirr, whirr, whirr, and with an 
anery quack out flew a frightened duck. 
B.N. E 
