42 THE LOG OF THE SUN 



surface, the wide round eyes turning and twist- 

 ing in their sockets, ever watchful for food and 

 danger. Without warning a terrific splash scat- 

 ters them, and when the ripples and bubbles cease, 

 five frightened sunfish cringe in terror among the 

 water plants of the bottom mud. Off to her nest 

 goes the kingfisher, bearing to her brood the 

 struggling sixth. 



Later in the day, when danger seemed far off, 

 a double-pointed vise shot toward the little group 

 of "pumpkin seeds " and a great blue heron swal- 

 lowed one of their number. Another, venturing 

 too far beyond the protection of the lily stems and 

 grass tangle of the shallows, fell victim to a vora- 

 cious pickerel. But the most terrible fate befell 

 when one day a black sinuous body came swiftly 

 through the water. The fish had never seen its 

 like before and yet some instinct told them that 

 here was death indeed and they fled as fast as 

 their fins could send them. The young otter had 

 marked the trio and after it he sped, turning, 

 twisting, following every movement with never a 

 stop for breath until he had caught his prey. 



But the life of a fish is not all tragedy, and the 

 two remaining sunfish may live in peace. In 

 spawning time they clear a little space close to 

 the water of the inlet, pulling up the young weeds 

 and pushing up the sandy bottom until a hollow, 

 bowl-like nest is prepared. Thoreau tells us that 

 here the fish "may be seen early in summer 



