182 OUT WITH THE BIRDS 



able, yet hardly likely, that they mistook the 

 brown pond- weed patches for sand-bars, for the 

 crane is a mighty knowing chap, far surpassing 

 his bird kin in sagacity. 



Aug. 9. A real August morning in camp. 

 The crows and flickers were raising a rumpus in 

 the big elm near the tent, at the first light of 

 dawn, when one crow, strangely enough it 

 seemed, was rehearsing his spring love-song, 

 "Wa-lunk wa-lunk." Later, a bright sun and 

 perfect sky; (crickets humming and piping in 

 their million-voiced orchestra; a brown thrasher 

 in the chokercherry tree; three kingbirds on the 

 dry elm tip; a catbird in the wash-basin; two 

 young bronzed grackles at the fire-place, pecking 

 burnt egg-shells; several chipmunks jerking 

 about on the sunny spote ; three ground squirrels 

 scrapping ill-naturedly over their oatmeal and 

 crackers ; a score of lisping warbler voices in the 

 elm foliage; yellowlegs and willet talk sounding 

 from the sandy shore who wouldn't be a 

 camper at Lone Tepee ! 



Aug. 11. In the afternoon took a stroll 

 around a mile of sloughs. There was a high 

 south wind, and many duck parties were dis- 

 turbed on the sheltered mud-bars and shore-line. 



