THE MUSKRAT AND ITS HOME 



when he came up he was some thirty feet away. 

 After swimming for a long distance he headed 

 for the bank and when within a few feet of it he 

 dived again and was lost to sight. He had 

 entered his burrow or summer home at this 

 point by an entrance under the water. Joe 

 rowed me across the stream to the log upon 

 which the muskrats had feasted so contentedly. 

 We found several empty clam-shells ; a part of 

 the clams had been taken and eaten by the poor 

 little fellow who in turn was forced to give up 

 his life to the big marsh-hawk for her family 

 supper. Such is Nature's law of compensation ! 

 Joe and I knew the marsh-hawk's nest was 

 down by the swamp in a little patch of sun- 

 flowers. It was made of grass, lined sparingly 

 with feathers and occupied by four young hawks. 

 As we rowed home in the moonlight, without a 

 sound but the splashing of the oars, I thought 

 of the marsh-hawks. The beautiful male, his 

 more quietly dressed mate and their little ones 

 with feathers the color of their mother's, flitted 

 across my mind. How they would enjoy their 

 supper as they held the body of the unfortunate 

 little muskrat under their claws and tore oflT the 



