OUR LAKE 



breasts as they balanced themselves precariously with 

 fluttering wings on the highest twigs. 



In midsummer wheeling chimney swifts and flocks 

 of blue-backed swallows make this bay their hunting 

 ground. Later the gulls arrive but no small bay will 

 content them for long. If the day is stormy they may 

 linger for a while, delighting our eyes with their 

 graceful motions, but richer fishing grounds soon 

 lure them on. Some years, too, the black terns fly 

 back and forth uttering their harsh calls. The crows 

 know where a certain spring in the bay at the end of 

 the island keeps open water on the coldest day in mid 

 winter. Here they congregate and here they fish! I 

 could not believe my glass at first but distinctly 

 I perceived Mr. Crow draw from the water a small 

 fish, carry it to the willow and hold it with one claw 

 while he calmly devoured it. Whether the fish was 

 a live one or not only the crows know, but many a 

 morning I saw them about this bubbly spot drinking 

 and making merry in true crow fashion. 



At certain intervals during the summer various 

 w i45 



