OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



"One evening (which is Southern for afternoon) 

 the mud hens began to gather in the bay until they 

 covered nearly an acre of water, swimming together as 

 closely as possible. Overhead soared a bald eagle evi 

 dently hunting for his supper. 



" 'Now watch,' exclaimed my guide; 'you '11 see 

 some fun!' 



"Deliberately selecting his prey, the eagle closed his 

 wings to drop. Instantly and simultaneously every hen 

 ducked her head and with her feet, splashed the water 

 into the air. It was an acre of dancing drops, three feet 

 high! The eagle could distinguish nothing in that 

 foaming mass, and, as he dislikes to wet his feathers, he 

 flew up again to wait a new opportunity. The instant 

 the big bird rose, that instant those intelligent Blue 

 Peters, as they are called in the South, lifted up their 

 heads but they kept their close formation. Three times 

 did the eagle attempt to get his supper from this flock, 

 and three times were these tactics repeated. At last 

 quite discouraged he flew away to less sophisticated 

 quarters. At his disappearance, the mud hens dispersed 



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