Dec. 1886.] 
of the pond. All the tracks ended in three or 
four long footsteps pointing in that direction, and 
I knew they must be standing on the other side 
of a wide bed of reeds, to reach which I must 
wade the deepest part of the pond. Cautiously I 
ventured in. Knee deep at first and very muddy 
—then waist deep and a harder bottom, growing 
gradually shallower till I was safely hidden in 
the reeds. Cautiously I forced my way through 
and as I caught a glimpse of the black water be- 
yond I saw away off on the farther edge a group 
of a dozen or more of the great awkward birds I 
was seeking. But my heart went away down, 
for they were a good hundred yards from the edge 
ot my cover. Still I thought I would get a little 
closer, and in about three steps more I was well 
rewarded for my trouble. For right beside me 
in a little opening in the reeds was the bulk of 
the flock, some forty or fifty in number. A little 
more careful sneaking and I was almost among 
them. I could have touched the nearest ones 
with my gun barrel. So I squatted right there in 
the mud and water and watched their antics and 
studied their uncouth positions, making mental 
notes for future reference in regard to ‘‘mount- 
ing.” One young follow close beside me plainly 
“felt a bite,’ for he raised one long parti-colored 
shank and scratched the back of his head with 
his toe, balancing himself in an unsteady fashion 
on the other limber pin. Having accomplished 
this feat to his own satisfaction, he made a most 
elaborate bow to his nearest neighbor and open- 
ing eight or ten inches of mouth, remarked “Ker- 
wauk.” With a somewhat less studied salutation, 
his friend replied, “ K-wouk ker ka wow.” Then 
a big old chap, bald-headed and austere in de- 
meanor like myself and the emblem of our glori- 
ous republic, gave the youngsters an angry glance 
and remarking “ Walk-walk,” suited the action to 
the word and walked over to them and gave each 
in turn a sounding kick, which they deftly caught 
on half-spread wing and only replied by a depre- 
cating series of bows. Bowing seems to be a 
regular accompaniment to the conversation of 
the Wood Ibis. Likewise the rule that ‘ Little 
folks should be seen and not heard,” is plainly a 
part of their code of manners, for every exchange 
of civilities among the young fry was visited by 
instant chastisement from the patriarchal toe. 
At last my juicy seat became rather too much 
so for comfort, and with a mental ‘“‘beg your par- 
don, sir,’ I collected the grave old patriarch. 
What a rush and beating of broad pinions fol- 
lowed the report of the gun! Seeing no intruder 
they kept circling close over the spot, and had I 
been so minded I could no doubt have collected a 
score or more. But one was enough for me, so I 
AND OOLOGIST. 
181 
made myself visible, shouldered my victim and 
started back. 
- Getting home, (“home is where the heart is,’’) 
I built a rousing fire and hung up my drenched 
garments to dry. Near by on some coals drawn 
away from the general mass, my Rail was soon 
browning to a turn. By the time I had finished 
my repast my clothes were sufficiently dry to be 
resumed. So I started on my return trip, by a 
different route, striking round the end of the 
island next the open marsh. The Sea-side 
Finches seemed extremely plenty about one little 
hummock, and it was an opportunity not to be 
neglected. I beat it up well and obtained four. 
They are in all sorts of plumage now, just the 
time to get specimens to finish out a series. At 
the landing I took a Sanderling with my last load 
of twelves, and in the creek I cracked both bar- 
rels at a Royal Tern. A beautiful specimen he 
proved to be, so light on the back as to be almost 
white, and with just suspicions of black on the 
occiput. 

Nesting of the Swallow-tailed Kite in 
Becker County, Minnesota. 

BY J. W. PRESTON, BAXTER, IOWA. 

It was my good fortune to spend the collecting 
season of 1886 in the difficult, though by no 
means uninteresting region bordering on the head 
waters of the Red River of the North. 
Here are many beautiful Jakes, begirt with 
shaggy woods—a county abounding in fish and 
game—the delight of the angler and sportsman, 
and the joy of the summer tourist. 
But should the ornithologist, and especially the 
oblogist, visit this country he will be disappointed 
unless he is content with much hard work, and 
few sets of eggs—although some of them may be 
very desirable. 
In the northeastern portion, and extending far 
beyond, is a virgin wilderness of mingled lake 
and forest, where one may wander for days and 
not see a human habitation; and the only 
feathered friends to cheer his way will perhaps be 
an occasional Flycatcher with its smart peet-peet, 
or a lone Vireo. Perhaps a Barred Owl may 
peer down upon him out of some overhanging 
bough, or a frightened Broad-winged Hawk dart 
down from a dead tree-top to hide himself from 
view ; while clear and long echoes the cry of the 
weather-wise Loon, as he flies swiftly from lake 
to lake. 
Somewhere back from the shores of one of 
these lakes, where the rich flat land had sent up a 
heavy growth of basswood, elm and balsam, and 
the higher ground was covered with poplar, sugar 
