How a New Water Witch Came to the Marsh 185 



much bigger than a wrist watch and that these dives were 

 probably its first. 



I found it again alongside the canoe. I tried a new plan 

 by scooping it up with my hand and placing it on my wind- 

 breaker inside the bow of the canoe. And there it sat. Just 

 a baby bird, but what a baby: uglier than the ugly duckling 

 of the fairy tale, clothed in down, striped like a convict's 

 costume. Few would think it related to the sleek but drab- 

 colored parents which hovered about in the cattails. The bird 

 kept its eye on me and did not move. 



To pose quietly while I took a few pictures seemed all the 

 concession it was willing to make, for suddenly it climbed 

 over the margin of my coat, leaving behind an oily spot 

 which the cleaner never succeeded in removing. I put the 

 bird back on the garment but it would not remain. It was 

 through with art. I, too, thought that it had done its share 

 and so I dropped it into the water. My work was about 

 finished and I put the canoe in motion. 



I turned when I had gone about a canoe length. The game 

 was not over for my young friend. There it was, its small 

 body shaking with the effort of following the canoe. I 

 stopped for a moment, then paddled again. The bird re- 

 sumed its pursuit. 



I picked it up and took it back to the lily pads. It fol- 

 lowed again as I left. 



I could only speculate over the reason for its actions. Per- 

 haps it was that the world seemed too wide and sunny, too 

 unprotected and public. The overhanging side of the canoe 

 offered comparative darkness, quietness, a feeling of protec- 

 tion, and solitude. It may be that instinct warned it that 

 open spaces meant hawks and other predators. 



I couldn't let the little fellow venture beyond the reach 

 of its parents. It might have stopped within a few feet, but 

 I picked it up and pushed the bow of the canoe into the lily 

 pads. This time I dropped the bird into the nest. 



