222 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



slowly and serenely through the water, the bushy 

 tail floating straight out behind them. 



On returning to camp I found another species 

 of butterfly, my old friend, the Camberwell 

 beauty, at the oaken sap. He too jerks his wings 

 at the hornets but does not fly until two or three 

 have gotten after him. The yellow jackets seem 

 fond of the odor of fish and whenever I dress 

 them they fly around the board, sipping at the 

 blood and moisture. 



The cackle of the flicker, when the bird is 

 close, sounds somewhat like that of a guinea hen 

 or of a rooster who has found a choice tidbit 

 and calls his harem to come up and partake. 

 One is seated on a horizontal limb of a poplar 

 a half dozen rods away. It squats close to the 

 limb as if for protection. Much of the time it 

 is preening its feathers, but about once every 

 two minutes it raises its head and sends forth its 

 characteristic call. Twice it hops or creeps along 

 the limb and picks up some morsel which its 

 keen eye has detected, then resumes its preening 

 and at intervals the cackle. The latter is a ' i cut 

 ct ct ct ct ct, ' ' uttered very rapidly and 

 resembling the beginning of the cackling note 

 of a hen but the intonation more like that of the 

 guinea. Far different is it from the love-call ' ' a- 

 wick a -wick a-wick" which now comes from 

 another tree. 



Whether the latter note is always a love call 



