IN THE PONKAPOAG BOGS 



One of these young wood ducks came 

 out of the bog the other 'morning, just 

 at the gray of dawn, and swam over 

 toward the boat landing. He was quite 

 near the shore when I took ship and 

 rowed to seaward of him, thus shutting 

 him off from the open pond and from 

 the bog. Then for an hour or two fol- 

 lowed what was to me the most inter- 

 esting duck hunting I have done for a 

 long time. I could row as fast as he 

 could swim, and I continually edged him 

 along the south shore, getting nearer 

 every minute. I have read much of the 

 marvelous intelligence of wild crea- 

 tures. Yet I saw little of it in this 

 chase. The duck knew me for an 

 enemy, on general principles, for I was a 

 man, and I was evidently coming after 

 him. Even rudimentary intelligence 

 should have told him to flap for the bog 



