MAY CANOEING AND NATURE-STUDY 131 



fertilization of the moccasin, and his work is to carry the pollen 

 to another flower, so that the seeds may set and more plants beauti- 

 fy our woodlands. 



But this pollen is not to fulfil its mission. As we watch the 

 bee starting low across the water, a green frog squatting on the 

 bank is watching too, and there is a sudden spring, a splash, and 

 the bee has disappeared down Mr. Frog's wide mouth. The frog 

 continues swimming across the pool towards a fallen log, and as 

 he passes near the lily pads, a powerful swirl stirs the water, and a 

 good-sized pickerel darts out and Mr. Frog has disappeared in 

 turn. Before the pickerel has had time to return to his sheltering 

 pads, it may be that a big osprey, wheeling overhead, will spy him 

 and dropping like a shot, grasp him in his long hooked talons, or a 

 slim mink, slipping into the water like a shadow, will cx>me up under- 

 neath the unsuspecting fish and carry it off to its snarling little 

 ones in the den nearby. 



But even when there are no comedies or tragedies to watch, 

 there is always something to see which makes the trip worthwhile ; 

 the blue sky overhead with a few white clouds, the heaven-kiss- 

 ing hills in the background, the winding river valley with its ter- 

 races hinting of their fascinating story of glacial times and ages 

 of erosion, and close at hand graceful white birches outlined against 

 towering pines, with an occasional touch of scarlet or orange 

 where a swamp maple, turning prematurely, is reflected in the 

 quiet stream. And when at last the sun drops down behind the 

 distant mountains, the clouds are changing to rose and flame, 

 the veeries and the hermit thrushes are fluting in the dark woods 

 and the whitethroats whistling from the edge of the blueberry 

 pasture, it is time for us to silently turn our canoe upstream and 

 steer our homeward course. 



RICHES 



I looked into the lily-bell to see what lay within, 



To find how deep the chalice was, what nectar pearled therein. 



The bottoms of lily-cups with olden treasure in 



Have hung upon the thoroughways wherever I have been. 



L. H. Bailey, in Wind and Weather 



