II 



THE HORNED GREBE 



I HAD a sister twelve or fourteen years older than I who 

 was teaching school on the other side of the river three 

 or four miles from our place, and it was my job every 

 Monday morning to ride behind her on a horse to her 

 boarding place and then bring the horse back. One morn- 

 ing in May, as it had been raining heavily, my older 

 brothers decided to go with us and see whether the river 

 was over its banks, in the hope that they might be able 

 to spear some fish. The Skunk River overflows its banks 

 practically every spring, and at this time many large fish 

 go out into the shallow water that spreads over the low 

 bottoms and pass into the shallow ponds, for in such 

 places they can get an abundance of food. At such times 

 father and we boys used to take the old "gig" and often 

 found little trouble in spearing fifty to one hundred pounds 

 of fish within an hour or two. 



On the way home when we reached Sellar's pond we 

 noticed a duck, or at least what we supposed was a duck, in 

 the middle of the pond. We promptly dismounted, tied 

 our horses to the fence and ran over to the pond. As he 

 went, Brother John filled his pockets with stones. Brother 

 John was expert at throwing stones. Many a time I have 

 seen him kill squirrels or birds in this way, and he hoped 



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