12 THE SPRING OF THE YEAR 



dred young ones in the family, though I never have 

 counted them. But you might. If you want to try 

 it, take your small scoop-net of coarse cheesecloth, 

 or mosquito-netting, and go. down to the pond this 

 spring. Close along the margin you will see holes 

 in the shallow water running up under the over- 

 hanging grass and roots. The holes were made prob- 

 ably by the muskrats. It is in here that the old 

 catfish is guarding the brood. 



As soon as you learn to know the holes, you can 

 cover the entrance with your net, and then by 



jumping or stamp- 

 ing hard on the 

 ground above the 



hole, you will drive out the old fish with a flop, the 

 family following in a fine, black cloud. The old fish 

 will swim away, then come slowly back to the scat- 

 tered swarm, to the little black things that look like 

 small tadpoles, who soon cluster about the parent 

 once more and wiggle away into the deep, dark 

 water of the pond the strangest family group 

 that I know in all the spring world. 



