112 Up the Creek 



on the grass. What did he think of us ? Eat- 

 ing, with him, is so different a matter, and per- 

 haps he could give us a few useful hints. The 

 trite remark, " Fingers came before forks," 

 has a significance in the woods, if not in the 

 town. While eating we listened, and I heard 

 the voices of nine different birds. Some 

 merely chirped in passing, it is true, but the 

 marsh-wrens in the cat-tail thicket just across 

 the creek were not silent for a moment. 

 Here in the valley of the Delaware, as I re- 

 cently found them on the shores of Chesa- 

 peake Bay, the wrens are quite noflurnal, and 

 I would have been 'glad to have heard them 

 sing in the moonlight again ; for our enthu- 

 siasm would have been strengthened by a few 

 such glimpses of the night side of Nature. 



No bird is so welcome to a mid-day camp 

 as the white-eyed vireo, and we were fortu- 

 nate in having one with us while we tarried 

 at the spring. Not even ninety degrees in 

 the shade has any effecl: upon him, and this 

 unflagging energy reafls upon the listener. 

 We could at least be so far alive as to give 

 him our attention. Mid-day heat, however, 

 does affeft many a song-bird, and now that 

 nesting is well-nigh over, the open woods 



