The Specialist Loses Control 



25 



*m*S ♦ I STOPPED TO TALK TO THE CA- 



noehouse manager on my first trip to the marsh during the 

 January storms. I found him shoveling snow which filled 

 the surrounding hollows and drifted back and forth with the 

 varying winds. His two dogs romped about, playing to- 

 gether, and tossing the snow which so seldom visited the 

 marsh. 



"I see you have built a new feeding place," I said. "I 

 thought you had stopped for good." 



"So I did. The birds seemed to get along as well without 

 it. But they were never in worse shape than now. The storms 

 are just too much for them. My wife and I don t enjoy watch- 

 ing things starve." 



I knew how he felt. Many others felt the same way. All 

 over the city people were putting out suet, grain, and dried 

 fruit. 



"Are you getting much patronage?" I asked. 



"Plenty. Every marsh bird but the bittern. It acts as if it 

 enjoys starving. Small birds like juncos, song sparrows, tow- 

 hees, and chickadees came first, then bigger birds showed 

 up. Hunger certainly took the fear out of them. They are be- 

 ginning to act like barnyard hens." 



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