V °!'s^ VI ] Roberts, The Prothonotary Warbler in Minnesota. 239 



considerable attention for years past. Immediately on our return 

 to Minneapolis, Mr. Dart at my request went back to Hastings, a 

 point on the River twenty miles below St. Paul, and twenty miles 

 above Red Wing where we first saw the Prothonotary Warbler, 

 and dropped down the river some miles in a boat to determine, if 

 possible, the northernmost limit of distribution of the bird. In 

 this he was fairly successful. 



The bottomland of the Mississippi River, particularly from the 

 entrance of the St. Croix River, twenty miles below St. Paul and 

 one hundred and thirty-four miles from the Iowa line, is a 

 broad expanse of low land three to six miles in width and 

 enclosed between high, broken and picturesque bluffs three hun- 

 dred to six hundred feet high. A portion of this low ground is 

 open marsh and meadow land, but the greater part of it is cov- 

 ered with a dense growth of willow, cottonwood, aspen, box-elder 

 and birch, and here and there are heavy forests of larger growth, 

 with elm, maple, and butternut added, and a luxuriant growth of 

 tangled woodbine, poison ivy, grape and other vines. The main 

 channel of the river winds through this valley in great sweeping 

 curves, first to one side and then far away to the foot of the bluff 

 opposite. It is continually sending off side channels and false 

 passages so that the entire bottomland is divided up into innu- 

 merable islands and irregular strips of land. This is particularly 

 true of the six or eight miles lying between the head of Lake 

 Pepin and Red Wing, and of the whole valley from La Crescent 

 to the Iowa line. In early spring, with the first rise of the melt- 

 ing snow, and again during the ' June freshet,'' a large part of this 

 lowland is overflowed, often to a considerable depth, so that a 

 boat can be run almost anywhere where the smaller undergrowth 

 and vines do not block the way. Some portions of the bottom- 

 land are occasionally flooded quite throughout the year, and are 

 dreary, desolate places indeed. The action of the ice in spring, 

 combined with the effect of the floods, has resulted in the death of 

 vast numbers of the smaller trees, particularly the willows which 

 fringe thickly the river banks, the stagnant inlets, old channels, 

 false passages and occasional island ponds. This grim feature of 

 the landscape forces itself upon the attention almost everywhere 

 and, desolate as it is, soon comes to have a peculiar interest and 



