A Bit of River 69 



of man's labor, for a damp spot has been shaped 

 into a reservoir for benefit of thirsty beasts. 



All above this pool seems dusty dry, yet a keen 

 eye can detect a tiny white furrow extending from 

 the pool to a clump of willows at the end of the 

 wall. Does anything other than surface water ever 

 fill this furrow ? Ask those five points of flame 

 which mark the furrow's course ; the cardinal flower 

 knows the secret of the stream. Follow the furrow 

 to where it enters the willows, part their tangled 

 fronds and Flip-flap ! whew-ee-ee-ew ! 



A woodcock. Always one woodcock here 

 never more. Shoot him, and you may knock over 

 his double at every subsequent visit, though there 

 does not appear to be another suitable haunt within 

 two miles. Why he never has a wife to share his 

 retreat, or a friend to visit him, nobody knows. 



Here, in the centre of the willows, lies a yard- 

 wide basin of moist black loam, which never is 

 drier than you see it. In the spring it broadens to 

 a pool, which at midsummer, may have shrunk to a 

 mere damp spot ; yet it never actually dries. August's 

 sun may curl the willow leaves and sear the hillside 

 grasses, but this spot under its leafy dome ever 

 maintains its cool moisture. White splashes all 

 over it and innumerable holes bored in its plastic 

 surface prove the woodcock's presence, for which 

 there is good reason. If you wanted bait when it 

 was scarce elsewhere, and turned up one spadeful 

 of that black stuff, I'd warrant you'd find worms 

 a-plenty. The big-eyed woodcock knows. 



Nor does the friendly care of the willows above 

 keep the spot moist. Yonder a tuft of fern and a 



