WATER-BIRD WAIFS 



it. But for the life of me I could not see where it had 

 gone, and I finally had to give it up. 



When I was of high school age I took a companion 

 of about my years into a famous rail-bog, where many 

 pairs nested, as he wanted to find some of their eggs. 

 The place was a sort of bottomless ooze, and we had 

 to lay out planks and step on them. Though I had 

 cautioned him, he soon slipped off and got into the 

 mud. We were rather near shore, and he was so 

 frightened that instead of climbing back on the plank, 

 he started to wade ashore, despite my protests. Deeper 

 and deeper he sank, till he was in all over. Now he 

 was frantic with terror and began to cry. I thought 

 surely he would drown, but he finally crawled out on 

 shore, plastered with black oozy slime from head to 

 foot. Choking with mud and sobs, in about equal 

 proportions, he started for home spluttering that I'd 

 never have the chance to get him into such a scrape 

 again — how ungrateful! This was just on the border 

 of the city of Boston, and I badly wanted to hear all 

 about his trip through the city streets in that rig. But 

 he hardly would speak to me after that, much less go 

 into detail. This incident goes to show that if anyone 

 is afraid of mud and water, he or she had better let the 

 rails alone and study the safe and darling little chippy- 

 birds! 



There are some other rails that must receive only 

 scant mention. The Little Black Rail and the Yellow 

 Rail are both very rare, and have almost more the 



258 



