•28 MEMOIRS OF THE NUTTALL ORNITHOLOGICAL CLUB. 



orchard in our rear, or the hoarse ipiazvk of a Night Heron out of the darkness 

 directly overhead. Invisible and for the most part nameless creatures, moving 

 among the half-submerged reeds close to the boat, or in the grass or leaves 

 on shore, were making all manner of mysterious and often uncanny rustling, 

 whispering, murmuring, grating, gurgling and plashing sounds. With the first 

 unmistakable signs of daybreak the crowing of cocks might be heard in every 

 direction in the distance. Shortly afterwards Song and Swamp Sparrows began 

 stirring and chirping, or even singing a little, in their grassy or leafy covers near 

 the water's edge ; Rails called among the reeds ; Wilson's Snipe darted past, 

 uttering their rasping scaipes ; while the harsh rattle of Kingfishers and the 

 musical peet-tveet-ivcet of Spotted Sandpipers came at frequent intervals from 

 various places along the shore. All the while the warm flush in the east had 

 been deepening and spreading until, in this direction, the entire heavens, from 

 the horizon to the zenith, were aglow with rose and crimson, and the calm sur- 

 face of the pond shining with reflected light. Elsewhere the sky had as yet 

 changed but little, and the water, as well as land, remained shrouded in gloom 

 nearly or quite impenetrable to human eyes. 



It was about this time, if at all, that the Ducks began to appear, some- 

 times singly or in pairs, frequently in bunches of from six or eight to ten or a 

 dozen birds, occasionally in flocks containing as many as forty or fifty individ- 

 uals each. Most of them were migrating birds which came, not from the neigh- 

 boring ponds and marshes, but directly from the North. They were usually 

 seen at first high in air, a clustering throng of dark specks distinctly visible as 

 they crossed the glowing east ; next, circling at lower elevations, alternately dis- 

 appearing and re-appearing, as they entered and emerged from the wreaths of 

 rose-tinted mist or the black shadows cast by the wooded portions of the shores. 

 If, after thoroughly reconnoitering the pond, they discovered nothing to alarm 

 them, they would alight well out towards the middle, sending up jets of flashing 

 spray as their heavy bodies struck the smooth surface. As soon as they had 

 fairly settled, the gunner who happened to be nearest them started out, crouch- 

 ing low in his boat and propelling it by a single oar, worked vigorously but 

 noiselessly in a leathered notch or hole cut at the stern. Occasionally two or 

 even three boats would appear at once from different points, converging as they 

 advanced, each man straining every nerve to outdo his competitors and obtain 

 the first shot. Some of these impromptu races were intensely exciting, not 

 only to those who took part in them but also to the more distant and disinter- 

 ested spectators. They seldom engendered any feeling other than that of 

 friendly rivalry, for, with one or two exceptions which shall be nameless, the 

 Fresh Pond gunners of those days were kindly, generous-hearted fellows who, 

 moreover, were bound by unwritten but very generally followed rules and tradi- 



