Shells on Union Bay 

 7 



/ ♦ THROUGH WATCHING AREAS LIKE THE 



Union Bay marsh where wildlife is subject to constant con- 

 tact with the city, I have learned that the direct action of 

 man through such agencies as shotguns, traps, slingshots, and 

 domestic cats and dogs is not the only disturbing factor. 

 Other influences, indirect and often quite obscure, may have 

 far-reaching consequences. The fills, the dredging, the erec- 

 tion of buildings may, or may not, be of importance, but I 

 like to watch all changes, however slight, and weigh their 

 effect. This is the story of a shift of apparently no moment 

 but which has greatly altered certain conditions. 



One morning in late spring I heard the crew turnout as 

 it prepared to take to the water. The new and imposing shell- 

 house, only a few rods away from my canoe, was completely 

 hidden from view by the six-foot cattails, but I knew what 

 was going on as well as if I were sitting on a coiner of the 

 concrete ramp which lay between the shell storage room and 

 the water of the inlet. The engine of the coach's launch 

 snorted and popped and then subsided into smooth action 

 when it warmed up. I could hear the voices of the crew men 

 as they prepared to remove the shells from their racks and 



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