WINTER PICTURES 23] 



best time to listen, to put your ear to nature's key- 

 hole and see what the whisperings and the prepara- 

 tions mean. 



"Dark night, that from the eye his function takes, 

 The ear more quick of apprehension makes," 



says Shakespeare. I overheard some muskrats en- 

 gaged in a very gentle and affectionate jabber be- 

 neath a rude pier of brush and earth upon which 

 I was standing. The old, old story was evidently 

 being rehearsed under there, but the occasional 

 splashing of the ice-cold water made it seem like 

 very chilling business; still we all know it is not. 

 Our decoys had not been brought in, and I dis- 

 tinctly heard some ducks splash in among them. 

 The sound of oar-locks in the distance next caught 

 my ears. They were so far away that it took some 

 time to decide whether or not they were approach- 

 ing. But they finally grew more distinct, — the 

 steady, measured beat of an oar in a wooden lock, 

 a very pleasing sound coming over still, moonlit 

 waters. It was an hour before the boat ememed 

 into view and passed my post. A white, misty 

 obscurity began to gather over the waters, and in 

 the morning this had grown to be a dense fog. By 

 early dawn one of my friends was again in the box, 

 and presently his gun went bang! bang! then bang! 

 came again from the second gun he had taken with 

 him, and we imagined the water strewn with ducks. 

 But he reported only one. It floated to him and 

 was picked up, so we need not go out. In the 

 dimness and silence we rowed up and down the 



