THE "QUEEN" RAIL 



spots marked the walled-in families of boring wasps. Garter 

 snakes, moles and field mice homed in and under the rotting bot- 

 tom rails, bright green lizards liked to laze on the sunny sides of 

 the middle ones, and sleek squirrels, with black-striped backs, 

 flashed along the top. 



In the corners on either side grew rank orchard-grass, thickly 

 sprinkled with sweet-williams, and laughing-faced blue-eyed 

 marys coquetted with them through the cracks. Graceful maiden- 

 hair ferns tossed their tresses from wiry stems. Bleached 

 mandrake umbrellas, that would later unfurl shades of green to 

 shelter cups of wax and gold, pushed stoutly through the sod. 

 Half the corners were filled with the whiteness of wild plum and 

 hawthorn, and the others were budding the coming snow of alder 

 and the blush of wild roses. Papaw sheaths were bursting with 

 the pressure of coming leaf and wine-colored bloom, and rich red 

 and yellow buckeye buds were pursy with swelling flower and 

 foliage. 



"Mu-m-m-m-m-m-m !" came the low rumble of a swamp bird. 

 "Gyck! Gyck!" came the answer, and the fence was forgotten. 

 The camera I selected to use weighed forty pounds, the field was 

 mellow and the swamp at its farthest corner. Sharp study was 

 required to locate the nest, but at last, by just a few grass blades 

 persistently arching against the wind, I found it. Then putting 

 on my waders and carefully probing with a long tripod for each 

 step, I entered the swamp and started toward the nest. 



The birds fear noise far more than objects, so I made a long 

 wait between steps and shifted my feet side wise a little so as not 

 to sink so deep in the muck that I could not get out. It was hard 

 work to take a step, and I sank deeper and deeper on nearing 

 the nest. Coming close I made longer pauses between steps. 

 When I was quite close to the nest, from the heart of the swamp 

 broke a sharp "Gyck! Gyck!" the same cry that I had heard on 



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