130 HOMING WITH THE BIRDS 



again struggled between the rails, before the hawk 

 reached it. When the train carried us from sight 

 this performance was still going on. I walked 

 to the back of the car to watch the struggle as 

 long as possible; when I could no longer distinguish 

 what was happening, the chicken had crept 

 through the fence crack for the fifth time. I am 

 unable to say whether it eventually escaped or 

 not, but I have an idea that the hawk finally 

 succeeded in catching the chicken, which was in a 

 panic. 



Another peculiar and intensely interesting in- 

 stance of feeding in the wild occurred in a bit of 

 swamp which lies almost directly across the lake 

 from Limberlost Cabin, north. Every season 

 red-winged blackbirds nest among the water wil- 

 lows, marsh grasses, and cat-tails of this swamp, 

 but one season, four years ago, a large fiock took 

 possession of this stretch of swamp, remaining 

 there until they left with their young after they 

 were able to fly for a combined attack on the grain 

 fields of the region. While slowly pushing a boat 

 around the outside of this swamp, searching for a 

 red-wing nest, I saw one of these birds alight on a 

 branch of water willow and lean down to the 

 water either to pick up something on the surface 

 or to take a drink. He chose his location without 

 exercising any judgment or using the precaution 

 of examining the water carefully. More quickly 

 than I could tell the story, a big black bass sprang 



