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AMERICAN FORESTRY 



They have looked into its dark waters and seen the cad- 

 dice worm carrying its case and have watched the 

 dragonfly nymph stalk its prey. Lucky few who know 

 the marshland and therefore love it; who know it and 

 rejoice in their knowledge. 



Early in March when the ice has scarcely thawed from 

 its flooded surface, before the pike have begun to splash 

 and before any birds have come, the notes of a sun- 

 warmed peeper announce that spring is on its way. And 

 next, from out of the clear blue sky comes the low sweet 

 chuckle of the first bluebird. The joyful "gurgle-lee" 

 of the redwing greets one's ears, ,and towards dusk the 

 wild ducks fly in narrowing circles and alight with a 

 splash among the brown flags. The geese go honking 

 overhead in a great wedge, and then comes the spring. 

 Three times the peepers have been frozen and thawed 

 again ; three times the ice has formed over the spawning 

 pike ; three times the marsh has been white in the morn- 



Photoaraph by A. A. Allen. 



HOW THE REDWING HANGS ITS NEST 



This is one of the earlier nests of the season, built in late April and 

 fastened to the stubs of the cat-tails. 



ing and brown at noon and now, by the laws of the 

 marsh-dwellers, spring has come. Each evening great 

 flocks of migrating redwings arrive like smoke and each 

 morning they depart for northern marshes, males first 

 by themselves and two weeks later the females. All 

 night the shrill notes of the peepers fill the air with a 

 deafening chorus. The yelping of the wood frogs and 

 the lower pulsating choir of the meadow frogs announce 

 that soon the waters will be teeming with tadpoles. The 



first dragonfly darts after some luckless gnat that has 

 seen fit to transform so early and a small flock of tree 

 swallows comes swimming from the south. Let us wait 

 until the middle of April, however, before we don our 

 high boots and start out through the marsh, for from 

 that time until the first of June the marsh is at its best. 

 The earliest cat-tails and water duck have now reached 

 the surface of the water and give the first greenness to 

 the marsh. Large ponds mark where the sedges will 



Photograph by A. A. Allen. 



JOY ON THE MARSHES 



This little swamp sparrow is expressing his appreciation of the luxu- 

 riance of the marshes. 



later appear for they are slower in starting and the 

 winter fires have not left even a brown stalk showing 

 above the water. The marsh resounds with the music of 

 the redwings and many strange calls emanate from 

 tangled places that one is eager to explore. A great 

 liquid call comes from a matted patch of sedges at the 

 edge of the marsh. "Obble-obb, ooble-oob," like water 

 being poured from a huge jug, these notes being pre- 

 ceded by a tapping sound as though some one were 

 striking a stake with a mallet. It is the bittern or 

 "stake driver," and if we are fortunate we may be 

 able to stalk him and catch him at his work, though 

 more likely we will almost step on him, so incon- 

 spicuous is he in his brown plumage. As the tapping 

 starts again one may see his gulping contortions as first 

 he claps his bill and then makes the motions of swallow- 

 ing with great difficulty, but he never puts his bill beneath 

 the water as is sometimes stated. As one approaches 



