A SUMMER BOATING TRIP 33 



into the field, and lastly out upon the river. They 

 paused and had a good look at me, though I could see 

 that their impulse to run away, like that of a fright- 

 ened deer, was strong. 



At the East Branch the Big Beaver Kill joins the 

 Delaware, almost doubling its volume. Here I struck 

 the railroad, the forlorn Midland, and here another 

 set of men and manners cropped out, what may 

 be called the railroad conglomerate overlying this 

 mountain freestone. 



" Where did you steal that boat ? " and " What you 

 running away for ? " greeted me from a hand-car that 

 went by. 



I paused for some time and watched the fish hawks, 

 or ospreys, of which there were nearly a dozen sailing 

 about above the junction of the two streams, squeal- 

 ing and diving, and occasionally striking a fish on the 

 rifts. I am convinced that the fish hawk sometimes 

 feeds on the wing. I saw him do it on this and on an- 

 other occasion. He raises himself by a peculiar mo- 

 tion, and brings his head and his talons together, and 

 apparently takes a bite of a fish. While doing this his 

 flight presents a sharply undulating line; at the crest 

 of each rise the morsel is taken. 



In a long, deep eddy under the west shore I came 

 upon a brood of wild ducks, the hooded merganser. 

 The young were about half grown, but of course en- 

 tirely destitute of plumage. They started off at great 

 speed, kicking the water into foam behind them, the 

 mother duck keeping upon their flank and rear. Near 

 the outlet of the pool I saw them go ashore, and I ex- 

 pected they would conceal themselves in the woods; 

 but as I drew near the place they came out, and I saw 



