68 



THE NIDIOLOGIST. 



their summer home being within the Arctic 

 circle. Both birds are recorded as summer 

 residents in Manitoba, but we are the first 

 to prove the\- actually nest in the province. 



This last spring I desired to take an as- 

 sistant with me to skin the birds obtained, 

 and out of several applicants I chose Fred 

 Dippie of Toronto, whom I knew to be a 

 first-class hand at preparing bird skins. 

 So it was arranged that Dippie should col- 

 lect in the vicinity of Long Lake, Mani- 

 toba, while I went on 500 miles further 

 west to my old hunting grounds amongst 

 the rolling prairies of Assiniboia. 



No doubt the following notes will inter- 

 est the readers of the Nidiologist : 



I left Toronto on May 17, and Dippie 

 followed a week later. 



I reached Oak Lake, 165 miles west of 

 Winnipeg, at midnight May 20. The fol- 

 lowing morning I arose from a refreshing 

 sleep, doubly appreciated after spending 

 three restless nights in the noisy railway 

 train, and after partaking of a good break- 

 fast at the hotel, I started out for the sand- 

 hills some miles south of Oak Lake. 



It was a lovely morning, and the balmy 

 atmosphere of the prairie was so sweet and 

 refreshing it seemed to fill me with enthu- 

 siasm and vigor. The sweet songs of the 

 Prairie Meadowlarks, Shore Larks and 

 Bobolinks soon caused me to forget the 

 business worry and the turmoil of the 

 noisy Queen City of Ontario, now 1500 

 miles away. 



LET'S AWAY TO THE PRAIRIES. 



Art sick of the city's rush and strife, 

 And the endless chafe of a business life, 

 The crush and the roar of the busy street, 

 The jar of pavement, and stifling heat. 

 The endless toiling for dear-bought gain, 

 The wearying tension of nerve and brain ? 

 Then cast all from you, and hie away 

 For a glorious, restful holiday. 



The gun hangs long on the lonely wall; 

 The tackle is hid 'neath a dusty pall; 

 The reel has forgotten the song it sings; 

 The flies would fain stretch their deadly wings; 

 The basket can boast no tempting spread. 

 And the flask is cold and its spirits fled. 



Man I is it right such things should be ? 



Why clank your chain when j-ou might be free? 



Leave, then, the desk, and ease the strain. 

 Leave the noisy machinery, the doubtful gain, 

 The breath of the woods gives strength anew. 

 And tunes the nerves till they answer true — 

 Seek Nature's shrine that she may bless. 

 And lose your care in the wilderness; 

 For the Grouse is sounding his rallying drum. 

 And the voice of foiest and stream says "Come!'' 



Yes ! My readers will agree with me; 

 it is a glorious thing to be able to lose one's 

 cares in the wilderness. Just imagine 

 yourselves in my shoes: no b isiness to at- 

 tend to for two months, nothing to do for 

 eight long weeks but collect birds' eggs, 

 shoot, fish and enjoy yourself amongst the 

 lonely prairies, lakes and swamps in the 

 happy hunting grounds of British North 

 America. And how many young oologists 

 would not have liked Dippie 's job? three 

 months' exile amongs, the prairies and 

 lakes of Manitoba. 



But we will proceed to gather in the 

 oological treasures of the prairie; so leav- 

 ing the village of Oak Lake behind, one 

 hour's walk across the prairie brought me 

 to the first bluff, and m)' first find for sea- 

 son 1893 was a clutch of Yellow-shafted 

 Flicker's. I had not gone far before I 'spied 

 a huge nest in one of the highest trees, 

 and I thought I saw a bird's head and tail 

 overhanging the sides of the nest. On 

 approaching closer Mrs. Svvainson's Buz- 

 zard flew ofi", and I was soon up the tree, 

 for I have not yet forgotten how to climb, 

 although it is nearly three dozen years 

 since I learned to walk. On peeping over 

 the edge of the nest, my eyes rested on a 

 handsome egg of the Swainson's Hawk. 

 I expected to find a full clutch, as the bird 

 sat very close, so I left the egg, intending 

 to call again a few days later for the full 

 set. 



Tearing my way through the bushes I 

 flushed a Short-eared Owl off" its nest, but 

 I was disappointed to find the nest empty. 

 I was evidently too early for eggs, as the 

 buds on the trees were only just beginning 

 to open out. 



