70 BIRD STUDIES WITH A CAMERA 
There is a mystery about a marsh akin to that 
which impresses one in a primeval forest. The pos- 
sibilities of both seem limitless. One hears so much 
and sees so little. Birds calling from a distance of 
only a few yards may remain long unidentified. A 
rustling in the reeds arouses vague expectations. 
The notes of marsh-inhabiting birds are in keep- 
ing with the character of their haunts. They are 
distinctly wild and strange, and often thrilling. The 
Rails, for example, all have singular, loud, startling 
calls. The American Bittern is a famous marsh 
songster, but although several of his common names 
are based on his calls, it is only recently that he has 
actually been seen uttering them. The Gallinule re- 
sembles the hen in the character, volume, and variety 
of its notes, and to it and not the Clapper Rail 
should be given the name “Marsh Hen.” Indeed, 
its European relative, from which it can scarcely 
be distinguished, is known as the Moor Hen or 
Water Hen. 
But of all this marsh music none to my ear is 
more singular than the call of the Pied-billed 
Grebe. It is mentioned in few books, and has won 
the bird no such fame as the Loon’s maniacal laugh- 
ter has brought him, though as a vocalist the Grebe 
fairly rivals his large cousin. Like most bird calls 
it is indescribable, but perhaps sufficient idea of its 
character may be given to lead to its identification 
when heard. It is very loud and sonorous, with a 
cuckoolike quality, and may be written cow-cow- 
COW-COW-COW-COw-Ccow-cow-cow-uh, cow-uh, cow-uh, 
cow-uh, These notes vary in number, and are some- 
times followed by prolonged wailing cows or ohs 
