Bulletin of the Michigan Ornithological Club. 



31 



gress. At first I proceeded along the out- 

 skirts of the Island, where on the floating 

 decayed masses of vegetations hundreds of 

 Black Terns had their domiciles. The 

 latter are only poor affairs, composed of a 

 few grasses placed so as to detain the eggs 

 in place. And very often the eggs are 

 laid simply on the dead masses of floating 

 reeds. The set is three, and the beautiful 

 variations in the eggs make a series a very 

 desirable acquisition to one's cabinet. 

 One must need a sharp eye to detect the 

 eggs of this species as they are occasional- 

 ly half covered with decayed vegetation. 



One thing I have observed is the fact that 

 if the eggs of the first set are taken, a few 

 days later one can go the rounds and find 

 that the birds have all laid again. The 

 Black Tern is a common summer resident 

 here, arriving late in April and going 

 southward in October. To see a flock of 

 them dissporting at the close of a beauti- 

 ful summer day, when the soft dreaminess 

 of twilight is coming on, they appear but 

 swallows of a larger growth, and form 

 with their graceful evolutions and pointed 

 long wings, a very pretty part of the sum- 

 mer marine landscape. 



Returning to the marsh, one must not 

 imagine that all is joy, and no work, for 

 one's heart will jump mouth ward frequent- 

 ly during the exploration at hand. Each 

 step taken is a mystery as to your final 

 landing-place, for the water is of unequal 

 depths ; and hidden weedy channels, bog 

 holes, and soft, marshy places prove the 

 source of many an involuntary ducking. 

 The flags cut the feet until it is almost 

 unbearable, and this, together with the 

 blood-suckers and the rushing pike, which 

 hide in the shallow water until stepped on 

 and then rush out with a splash into deeper 

 water, making a commotion very exciting 

 to an unexpected ear, form the drawbacks. 

 A few snakes tend to increase the dis- 

 pleasure. 



Coot's and Gallinule's nests we found in 

 abundance, but as they are well known I 

 will pass them by. Still a few of their 

 nests I have found were so picturesque 

 that I longed for a camera to retain the 



scene. 



Scattered all over the Island were the 

 numerous nests of the Long- billed Marsh 

 Y\ ren, and it is a great piece of guess- 

 work to determine which are the occupied 

 nests and those that are simply mock 



ones. What cozy little homes they are 

 with their lining of soft grasses, and ex- 

 terior of closely interwoven reeds some- 

 times still green from the moisture they 

 receive. Putting your finger into the 

 narrow entrance of the globular nest it is 

 always pleasant to feel the little warm 

 chocolate eggs inside. On several occa- 

 sions I have found albino eggs of this 

 species here. The color ranges in these 

 specimens from light back-ground, spotted, 

 to a pure white. These latter are very 

 fragile. A set consists of from five to 

 eight, and occasionally more, eggs. The 

 Marsh Wren, with his bubbling notes and 

 contented ways, is a great favorite of 

 mine, for unlike the ideal child he is more 

 often heard than seen. In fact, a novice 

 would be puzzled to account for the notes 

 of this bird if he depended upon sight 

 alone. 



About the center of the island I stumble 

 upon a Least Bittern's nest containing 

 the usual set of four pale blue eggs. The 

 nest is a mere platform of dead flags 

 placed above the water, and closely inter- 

 woven. This modest little Bittern when 

 disturbed will rise quickly, fly a short 

 distance, and drop into the reeds again 

 where its quivering note will be heard 

 while you remain in the vicinity. The 

 larger type, the American Bittern, for- 

 merly bred in these marshes, and may do 

 so yet, but I have been unable to find the 

 nest. The approach of civilization has 

 banished the majority to the more unfre- 

 quented resorts. They are still a common 

 sight on the Flats of the St. Clair River, 

 where their booming can be heard on 

 almost any summer day. I flushed a large 

 one at the close of a day here, and he 

 arose so quickly near my friend that he 

 stood, gun in hand, so amazed that Botau- 

 rus dropped into the reeds ere he 

 recovered his head. Occasionally they go 

 inland — one was shot in an adjoining yard 

 in the heart of the city in April, '95. 



The Pied-billed Grebe is a common 

 breeder here, and their floating nests were 

 frequently found. The nest is a mere 

 floating mass of decayed vegetation upon 

 which the eggs are laid, in number six to 

 eight, and covered with a mass of veo-eta- 

 tion that conceals the eggs entirely. I 

 seldom find a nest unless so concealed, and 

 I have never found a Grebe upon her nest, 

 or near it. The young are able to swim 



