DELAWARE VALLEY ORNITHOLOGICAL CLUB. 37' 



of this sort. The course of the stream is not difl&cult to follow. 

 It does not break up and ramify in bewildering fashion like the 

 Blackwater River of southern Virginia, down which we had 

 canoed on previous years. Yet while the banks are clearly 

 defined, they are rarely firm or dry and we went for hours 

 through a region that did not show a possible camp-site. At 

 rare intervals we came to wood-roads leading across the swamp. 

 These spanned the river with low wooden bridges, under which 

 it was difficult and sometimes impossible to force the canoes. 



For almost the entire day we had the sense of being completely 

 buried in the great swamp. There were no glimpses out into 

 the open country, no sound of singing darkies in distant fields, 

 no lowing of cattle nor barking of dogs. There were few, if 

 any pines to give relief to the vague, gray waste about us. The 

 buds were swelling but as yet showed no green to speak of. 

 The maples were touched with a tinge of red, and the briary 

 thickets were taking on the first tender tones of Spring, yet the 

 season was backward and even the bird migration appeared to 

 be in its quite early stages. On that day's run we saw no 

 Prothonotary Warblers. The first glimpse of that bit of 

 feathered flame, seen after long absence, always sends through 

 some of us the thrill of new discovery. 



Great companies of Rusty Grackles are characteristic of these 

 cypress swamps. They were numerous on the Pocomoke 

 though not quite so abundant as on the more southern rivers. 

 Their song (if such it may be called) becomes a most interesting 

 harmony when hundreds of them tune their little pipes together 

 in one great chorus, reminding one somewhat of the high, sweet 

 peeping of hylas. 



The Barred Owl is always an object of interest in these 

 southern swamps. He is a visible as well as an audible presence, 

 for we often see him by day sitting like a grim, gray cat above 

 us as we drift down the stream. When nightfall comes his 

 dog-like cries sound weird through the forest, mingled with 

 the hurried notes of the Whip-poor-will. 



Occasionally as we rounded suddenly some bend in the river 

 ducks would spring up before us. These were usually Wood 

 Duck, but we also saw Mallard and the little Hooded Merganser. 



