A Sportsman 91 



making in November, and by December loth is gener- 

 ally strong enough to bear teams over it, and accu- 

 mulates in thickness until February, and does not go 

 out for spring fishing on an average before May loth. 



It is interesting to observe the freezing of the great 

 lake, commencing in November. The deciduous trees 

 have cast their last leaves, which to the end have 

 semblance of October's gaudy tints, and evergreens 

 have grown darker, and the shades of the valley ranges 

 have a cold and steely look, and the mountains are 

 deeper in blue. 



The late autumnal days have surely come, and little 

 flurries of snow and with them chickadees are in evi- 

 dence. The ground freezes at night, and heavy frosts 

 glitter in the morning sun. The last few flowers, and 

 even the everlasting flower, which survived October's 

 cold, fall supinely in dark coloring. The blue heron 

 and kingfisher deadly destroyers of small fry have 

 winged away, and the great American diver, or the 

 loon, which breeds at the lake, has taken flight. The 

 ducks and geese fly over hurriedly with southern trend. 

 The robins, darling birds, are summer joys, who have 

 bred in the bordering trees and proudly brought out 

 their young broods upon the lawn, and taught them 

 how to catch the angleworm, seeking the cool and moist- 

 ure of the early morning. They, too, have thinned out, 

 though some stay all winter. The deer have left the 

 uplands for the cedar swamps. The frogs have ceased 

 their croaking and night calls, and are floating lan- 

 guidly about on the lake's surface, preparatory to their 

 dive for dormant winter quarters in the bottom mud. 

 The trout, big fellows with mates, five and six pounders, 

 are crowding on the spawning beds in their very height 



