266 Union Bay 



reminded of it when I flushed some green-winged teal and 

 all but one of them flew away with the incredibly high speed 

 of this smallest and fastest of the ducks. The one bird tried 

 but could not rise. It had been the victim of a shot and had 

 made its way to this little refuge. Its efforts to dive failed, 

 but as the canoe approached the bird managed to splash its 

 way to the cattail cover. 



I had watched this scene yearly. No need for me to look 

 at the hunting schedule: the state of the marsh told me when 

 the season had opened. Already there were four other crip- 

 ples: two pintails and two mallards. I saw them, as I had 

 seen wounded birds in other years, alone, moving slowly 

 along the edge of the cattails or resting in the weeds or on a 

 projecting log. They seldom strayed far from the place where 

 I first saw them. A few yards or a few rods, the distance 

 being determined by their physical condition, was the limit 

 of their boundaries. I came to know them by their location, 

 and each week I watched for the mallard near the willows 

 or the pintail close to the tule wren's nest. When I observed 

 that the patient was improving, the knowledge added much 

 to my day's pleasure. Twice when I missed a bird I searched 

 and found its body in the reeds. 



Most impressive of all the marsh patients was a snow 

 goose which arrived one October afternoon when the Cas- 

 cade Range had just begun to appear through the dissolving 

 mists and when the mo.rsh lay sodden after a three days' rain. 

 The bird flew from behind a little point of cattails from 

 which the canoe had startled it. As it flew I could see that 

 the flight was labored and that there was something wrong 

 with the beat of its powerful wings. A break in the wing 

 action, the failure of a gallant attempt to maintain elevation, 

 and the bird struck the water like a weight instead of a liv- 

 ing creature, and then struggled away into the twilight. 

 Wounded, it had sought sanctuaiy in the marsh. 



I purposely tried to keep away from it on my next trip, 



