164 Union Bay 



"Honestly?" 



"Sure enough," I said. "Ill tell you what I'll do. I go over 

 there once, or more, each week. The next time I'll stay in 

 one place and make a record of what goes on and what I 

 think of it. Then you can look over the notes." 



"Good," he said. "That option of a nap with every canoe 

 trip sort of appeals to me." 



It was just twelve when I arrived in Gadwall Cove. The 

 University chimes struck with a clearness which indicated a 

 fresh northwest wind. The inlet, equal in area to about two 

 city blocks, could be reached by narrow entries both, of 

 which permitted a limited view of Union Bay. I beached the 

 canoe at the edge of the bulrushes so that I could look all 

 about the cove, into the bay and ship canal. Cattails sur- 

 rounded the area and in a few places made little clumps of 

 vegetation in the center. It had been cloudy in the morning 

 and the patches of water lilies had no open blossoms, but 

 within half an hour after my arrival the sun had changed 

 their tight greenness into a mass of white and yellow. . 



I adjusted the pillows about me, got out my notebook and 

 leisurely ate the cheese, sandwiches, milk, chocolate, and 

 cookies which I had brought. I had begun work at six so that 

 I could get away early. To loaf now was pleasant. My dark 

 glasses brought the sky into more brilliant contrast and 

 made the clouds brighter and the sky a darker blue. Bird 

 songs were missing, nesting season was over, the russet- 

 backed thrush had stopped uttering its sharp whirt from the 

 bushes. But I heard many other sounds. The bees hummed as 

 they moved about in the blooms. Some goldfinches called as 

 they passed. It was time to begin my notes. 



Tuesday, August 4, Union Bay marsh. 

 Weather, sunny-cloudy; wind, northwest, warm. Time, 

 one p.m. 



