IX 



SLOUGH CREEK AND MEADOW BROOK 



THE only brooks I knew as a child were those 

 which in times of high water filled the irregular 

 channels between our reedy prairie ponds. In 

 summer most of them disappeared altogether and 

 the pond retreated to a central mudhole sur- 

 rounded by tall grass and cat-tails. Arrow -leaved 

 plants grew there in abundance. We children 

 used to pull these up and make whistles out of the 

 stems. I remember even yet the first taste I had 

 of this plant. It was "pondy," and far from pleas- 

 ant, but with the first reedy note drawn from the 

 stalk all bitterness and rankness was forgotten. The 

 great god Pan himself might have envied our 

 satisfaction. 



In spring the red-winged blackbirds owned the 

 "swunch," as we called it, and built their nests 

 among the reeds. Swinging on the highest cat-tail 

 the brilliant male bird would "pour his melting 

 ditty" to the gratification of all hearers. In win- 

 ter the ponds and their connecting streams were 

 skated upon. Weaving in and out, dodging hum- 

 mocks of coarse grass, steering clear of air-holes, 

 we skaters learned quickness of eye and an ability 

 to turn short. One pond larger than the others, to 

 which we smaller children were never allowed to 

 go, had a large clear place in the center where 



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