368 RAMBLES ABOUT HOME. 



ditch, which a century of freshets has widened and deep- 

 ened, until now it has all the appearance of a spring 

 pond. A growth of birches hides it from view until we 

 reach the very shade of the trees, and all the summer 

 the water is quite concealed by a marvelously rank 

 growth of splatter-dock and white lilies. Upward from 

 these lily-buds and dock-leaves extends a slimy Mack 

 log, that is now worn as smooth as ebony by the friction 

 of turtles' feet and shells ; for here every day through- 

 out the summer rest all the turtles that can crowd upon 

 it. The banks of this pond or ditch are steep and high, 

 of a stiff clay, and burrowed through and through by the 

 colony of muskrats that are known to dwell here, but 

 which are seldom seen, and are too cunning to be caught. 

 Much as there is here, in broad daylight, to be seen and 

 enjoyed, I often pass all by, and drag a scoop-net among 

 the weeds, in the expectation of making some rare "finds." 

 Nor am I often disappointed. Among the curious ob- 

 jects I bring to light from these weedy depths is this 

 mud sunfish. Dull brown and black, with gilt, green, 

 and bronze reflections, it is a pretty fish, seen at its best, 

 and one worth careful study. A glance shows that it is 

 unlike the ordinary sunfish. Longer in body, with more 

 spines in the fins above and below, and a generally bass- 

 like appearance, it gives the impression of a gamy fish, 

 and this it really is. 



Inasmuch as all fishes in the breeding season are more 

 interesting than during the other eleven months of the 

 year, it is desirable to know all about them in this par- 

 ticular month. So far as I am concerned, this month 

 will have to be passed over in silence. I never could 

 find their nests, although I have stirred up acres of mud 

 in search of them. Stranger still, I never could find any 

 very young specimens none that were less than six 



