AROUND A WOODLAND POND. 



A few years ago I concluded to make 

 a pond in an eighty-acre piece of wood- 

 land which furnished in spots a little 

 pasture. A ravine towards one end 

 offered an appropriate place. Accord- 

 ingly I had a dam built. It was one 

 hundred and three feet long, exclusive 

 of the wasteway at one end. At the dam 

 the water was thirteen feet deep. It 

 twisted up the crooked ravine for thirty- 

 four rods. Its current ran north and 

 on the east side the bank rose perpen- 

 dicular in places fully twenty feet. 



As it was made expressly for my own 

 pleasure I took pains to make it as 

 desirable as I possibly could. First, I 

 stocked it with catfish. But when the 

 rains came and the ravine roared with 

 swollen water, scale-fish found their way 

 up and remained. Soon, also, I noticed 

 signs of the mud-turtle, and the big 

 frogs which make night so musical with 

 their guttural music. 



To make it more desirable I obtained 

 water lilies and other water plants and 

 set them towards the upper end and, at 

 this writing, they are nearly down as 

 far as the dam. The water lily has an 

 immense root, as large or larger, than 

 the arm of a man and of wonderful 

 length. I also planted calamus and cat- 

 tails. Both plants are now all along the 

 edge and also along the entire width of 

 the dam. 



It is impossible with us to make a 

 dam which will not leak. It seeps 

 through despite every precaution. Hence 

 there is standing water for quite a dis- 

 tance below the dam. The plants above 

 have reached the entire length of the 

 perennial flow below. These make 

 excellent hiding places for fish, turtles 

 and muskrats. The rats caused me a 

 lot of trouble for a year or two, but 

 they at length, ceased and now dwell 

 chiefly along the upper reaches of the 

 pond. 



The muskrat soon knows when you 

 are on mischief bent with him, and also 



knows when you mean him no harm. 

 I have no objection to their being in 

 the pond if they will only let the dam 

 alone. At first they seemed bent on 

 letting the water out, but when I had 

 trapped some of them the others took 

 the hint and were industrious elsewhere. 

 They take a hint as seriously as a barn 

 rat.' 



In the perpendicular bank, the first 

 season, kingfishers burrowed and raised 

 their young. The little green heron 

 came also, and it was amusing to see 

 how they could perch so upright when 

 you came near them. The wood pewee 

 also nested there and the woodcock 

 reared its young in the flat below. At 

 night when it was warm the male would 

 soar aloft, sing one strain as he went 

 up and another when he dropped down. 

 Each fall and spring wild ducks, and at 

 times geese, halted to feed and rest. I 

 never suffered any gunning about there. 

 I preferred chicken and turkey on the 

 table. The hazel thickets in places ran 

 to the water's edge, and with proper 

 caution one could slip down and sit 

 within them unnoticed by the fowl, 

 especially in the fall before all the 

 leaves were shed. 



I have seen flocks of sandpipers feed- 

 ing on the little flat near the dam. It is 

 a lively bird and its long bill is specially 

 adapted to exploring the mud. The 

 kildeer also, and a bird which I took for 

 a tern. I caught one of these in a steel- 

 trap which I had set for muskrats at the 

 dam. The trap was just under the 

 water. The poor thing had drowned 

 itself. 



The calamus which I had planted 

 went to seed. The heads are interest- 

 ing. They are very solid. They were 

 the first that ever I saw. Nor have I 

 met a person to whom I have shown 

 those I keep on the library mantel, who 

 could tell me what they are. So I 

 take it that the calamus does not often 

 2:0 to seed. 



