THE DUCK-MOTHERS 87 



white grass-smoke rising above the prairie, a 

 few miles distant from the town; knowing that 

 it meant sad tragedy to the nesters, I took my 

 first opportunity to go out and investigate. I 

 found that the fire had burned off a small two- 

 acre patch of heavy, wild grass in a field close 

 to a farmer's buildings, and a turn over the 

 ground showed that at least three nesters had 

 suffered. The first encountered was the remains 

 of a clay-colored sparrow's little domicile; next 

 on a mound, I came upon a half-burned duck 

 nest. The broken shells were scattered around, 

 and it was evident that the crows had put the 

 final touch to the demolition of this hatching. 

 Then I found a tragic thing. On the top of a 

 burned " nigger-head " mound, was a mother 

 pintail. She was flat on the ground, with her 

 neck and head stretched out before her to escape 

 detection, and her little sober-clad body seemed 

 shrunk by fright to barely half her usual size. 

 I approached slowly till I was within three feet 

 of her, and I almost felt that her bright little 

 eye, which was the only thing about her that 

 that I would go by. But I did not do so, and 

 seemed really living, was praying beseechingly 

 when she fluttered off, she revealed a pitiable 



