May 



he led me a fine chase. As I jumped to one side, 

 he swam to the other ; and when I jumped to the 

 other, he was back again on the first. Every time 

 he tacked he got nearer to the point where the stream 

 entered an open course between walls of high reeds ; 

 and it was worth the capering in the mud to witness 

 his triumphal entry upon this inner stream, paddling 

 at top speed, with now a backward glance from one 

 eye, now from the other, and such an air of having 

 gotten the victory withal. As a matter of fact, I 

 could have turned him over with my stick at any 

 moment during the chase, but he looked so horribly 

 proud that I did not like to hurt his feelings. 



As I was already too dirty to fear anything short 

 of being submerged, I went back for my bag, and 

 wading across again, took a front view of the nest 

 with steadily sinking camera. 



In crossing, I found that the birds had a sleeping 

 nest in the reeds, which was natural enough, since, 

 whatever means may have been used to get the 

 young ones down to the water, once down, there 

 was no means of getting them up again. 



The yellow-hammer is such a stay-at-home with 

 us or, at any rate, if he shifts in the autumn, his 

 place is so regularly taken by his relatives from 

 farther north that we are able to follow this bird 

 pretty closely throughout the year. One might have 

 expected that the buntings birds which winter with 

 us would more quickly feel the stimulus of return- 

 ing spring and the more generous diet it provides 



