Notes from Field and Study 



357 



Una and Virginia Rails now. They were 

 daintily picking their way along the edges 

 of the rushes, gathering seeds and insects 

 (for Rails do nearly all of their feeding 

 toward dusk). The brown bird on the 

 brushpile stopped his calling, stretched out 

 his neck, and, with the most fastidious 

 placing of his feet, stepped off the old 

 dead limbs. Behold, a King Rail! I 

 recognized it instantly, although it was 

 the first that I had ever seen. I then got a 

 better view with my ng,ked eye than I 

 ever expect to have again, for he walked 

 down to the edge of the ridge, swam across 

 to the main bank, and came down along 

 the edge, not 6 feet away! What a 

 beauty! He walked along without con- 

 cern, hardly giving me a glance, closing the 

 toes of each foot as it was raised and slowly 

 opening them again as they were carefully 

 placed upon the ground. He looked like a 

 creature from another world. Could any 

 bird be as smooth, as neat, as clean, or as 

 beautiful? 



It grew darker and the rain increased. 

 The bird-songs gradually ceased. One 

 by one the birds disappeared. The Grebes 

 returned to the sedges, the Ducks to the 

 other end of the pond, and the Rails and 

 Sandpipers sank back into the rushes. 

 The Bittern could be seen no more. The 

 Coots drew into the weeds for the night and 

 all was still. The surface of the pond was 

 calm and unbroken, save by the steadily 

 increasing fall of the rain. — Howard K. 

 Gloyd, Ottawa, Kans. 



Wild-Fowl of the Susquehanna Flats 



On December 5, I revisited, after an 

 absence of five years, that great paradise of 

 the wild-fowl, the Susquehanna Flats. 

 Situated at the head of the Chesapeake, 

 where the Susquehanna broadens out 

 into the bay, the Flats are a somewhat 

 obscurely defined tract of waters about 

 200 square miles in area, 3 to 6 feet in 

 depth when the tide is in; and the whole 

 region is practically one vast bed of wild 

 celery. The Susquehanna Flats have been 

 famous as ducking grounds ever since 

 Colonial days, not only because of the 



great abundance of wild-fowl which the 

 natural food of the waters attracts, but 

 because of the prime quality of the celery- 

 fed game. 



I have looked in vain through my 

 unbroken set of Bird-Lores for a note or 

 record about the region by some orni- 

 thologist who is closely familiar with the 

 wild life of the Susquehanna Flats. Surely 

 there are few regions in the United States 

 which offer greater scope for observation 

 and study of water-birds of all kinds. 



To me an expedition to the Flats, 

 50 miles from my home, is an event pre- 

 ceded by days of happy anticipation and 

 followed by permanent memories. I go 

 as a sportsman, but most of the thrills of 

 my day in the boat come to me from the 

 birds that are not shot. To get the real 

 spirit of the Flats it is necessary to be on 

 them before the hills of the eastern shore 

 are sharply defined against the brighten- 

 ing sky. Then, in the vanishing gloom, a 

 consciousness of the presence of the wild 

 life about almost imperceptibly passes 

 into glimpses of shadowy movements, until 

 a swish of wings helps the eye to a vague 

 fiock in the gray. Gradually the picture- 

 esque scene unfolds. There are Canvas- 

 backs, and again and again Canvasbacks, 

 thousands upon thousands of them, in 

 curving, reforming lines; there are quick- 

 beating Blackheads (Scaups), Black Ducks, 

 Bull-heads (Golden-eyes), South Souther- 

 lies (Old Squaws), and several other 

 species restlessly moving about over the 

 feeding-grounds; there are many rigid 

 formations of Canada Geese; and there 

 are scattered flocks of Swans moving along 

 like great snowy aeroplanes. It is all a 

 joyously impressive sight. The voices, 

 the forms, the spirit of bird-life are 

 gloriously staged at sunrise in December 

 on the Susquehanna Flats. 



A strong element of my pleasure on 

 my recent visit was the notable increase 

 of wild-fowl since I had last been to the 

 region. Canvasbacks seem to be four or 

 five times more plentiful. Even the market 

 hunters of Havre de Grace, who at first 

 bitterly opposed spring shooting laws and 

 who looked upon federal regulations as 



