SPRING ON THE MARSHES 



283 



hovering there on suspended wing like so many skylarks, 

 finally floating back to the marsh with feathers ruffled 

 and epaulets flaming. 



The marsh is a glorious place to be on one of these 

 warm spring days, especially early in the morning or 

 toward dusk when one is almost overwhelmed by the 

 abundance of life. And even during the night the marsh 



Photograph by A, A. Alien. 



THE HAUNT OF THE HELL-DIVER 



The pied-billed grebe here shown with its young is ordinarily a silent, 

 seclusive bird, but during the spring the marshes sometimes resound 

 with their loud cooing notes. 



dwellers are far from quiet. The frogs and toads main- 

 tain a sonorous accompaniment, to the varied calls of 

 the birds. The spasmodic songs from excited swamp 

 sparrows and the weird calls from startled rails and 

 gallinules mingle with the almost incessant chatter of the 

 marsh-wrens until long after midnight. Then all is 

 quiet for a few hours, but long before the first signs of 

 dawn appear the activity begins once more. By four 

 o'clock the song sparrows are singing and a few minutes 

 later the swamp sparrows begin their sweet twitter. The 

 stars are still bright when a short-eared owl gives its 

 peculiar call and soon is dimly seen as it circles near. 

 The sparrows continue to sing and a half hour passes 

 before the first bittern sounds its liquid notes across the 

 marsh. Then the gulls begin to gabble on the lake and 

 ten minutes later the Wilson's snipe begin to bleat and 

 a strange winnowing sound pulsates across the marsh 

 as they perform their aerial evolutions. 



It is now three-quarters of an hour since the first 

 sparrow sang, the morning star has sunk below the hori- 

 zon and the first signs of dawn have appeared. The 

 gulls start up the valley for their daily skirmishing in 

 the fields and the first redwing is heard. As though 

 awaiting the signal, a hundred birds give answer, and day 

 is proclaimed. The stars die out and the color appears 

 in the east; the greens and yellows change to rose, and 

 the rose to red. A great blue heron leaves his roost in 

 the woods and starts for his fishing grounds. A pair 

 of teal swing across the field of vision, dark against the 

 sky. A few restless grackles start up from the 

 marsh, heading for the hill, and soon the morning 



flight of redwings begins. Scattering over the marsh, 

 they do not leave in the compact flocks that are so 

 characteristic of the evening flight. Single birds more 

 uneasy than the rest, loose groups of seven or eight, 

 and at times slightly larger flocks, fly toward the hills 

 to the east and to the west. By eight o'clock most of the 

 redwings have left, and two hours later one would scarce- 

 ly know there had been a redwing in the marsh. If we 

 have spent the night in the marsh, we are now content 

 to leave, for we have experienced one of the most stirring 

 phenomena that Mother Nature has to offer. When 

 thousands of other experiences crowd into our lives and 

 dim our memories, one picture will retain its freshness ; 

 it will be spring on the marshes and the awakening of 

 the birds. 



OLD LOVING CUP CARVED OF WOOD 



This cup, which is in the possession of Mrs. Mar- 

 garet Schultheis, Main avenue, Montebello Park, 

 Harford Road, Baltimore, is a century and a half old, 

 having been exhibited at the world's fair in Vienna 

 in 1776 and at the Centennial in Philadelphia in 1876. 

 It is the work of L. R. Wildenforce, and is exquisitely 

 wrought from a brown wood. It has a silver cup 

 inside, which is covered by the carved lid. The figures 

 represent Bacchus and a group of nymphs and satyrs 

 and the small figures are perfect in every detail. 



