96 A PHILOSOPHER WITH NATURE 



fishing-ground the end of the lake where the over- 

 flow water spreads out over a vast level expanse of 

 peaty ground, converting it into an immense swamp 

 where no boat can penetrate. If we would follow, 

 we must be careful. The water is not deep ; but in 

 long past days, probably when the sluggish river at 

 the end of the valley was less choked with weeds, 

 the unremembered inhabitants cut peat where the 

 water now covers, and their deep pits, overgrown 

 with weeds and nearly obliterated, still yawn 

 treacherous in the way of the unwary. This part 

 is the resort of great numbers of water-fowl, and in 

 the winter season it is visited by many migrant 

 species. The wild ducks in particular come here, 

 and many pairs, attracted by the seclusion and 

 abundant cover, remain to breed. Great bosses of 

 coarse grass, which rise high and dry out of the 

 water, mark where the lake ends and the shallower 

 water begins. Closer and closer these miniature 

 islands get, and the long rough sedge blades, which 

 at certain angles cut like a knife, stream from off 

 them into the water, forming cover through which 

 the wild fowl have worn openings like those which 

 the rabbit makes through the hedgerows. Farther 

 back the reeds rise higher, and there are deep pools 

 of open water, and then again more sedgy islands 

 on which the black willows eke out an amphibious 

 existence, maintaining an unequal struggle against 

 their many aquatic rivals. 



One may wade for long here and see little or 

 nothing of the bird-life with which the place abounds. 

 It is necessary to lean silently against one of the 

 clumps of sedge grass and wait for it to venture out 

 into the stillness. We may step out of the water 



