A DAY ON A WISCONSIN LAKE. 



HENRY W. READ. 



It was morning in camp on Lake Men- 

 dota. As I awoke I took my watch from 

 its nail on the tent pole and found it 6 

 o'clock. I looked at my companion. His 

 face, no longer peaked as when we arrived 

 in camp, beamed full and round like the 

 harvest moon. 



"Wake up, H ," I shouted; "Saturday 



morning and no fish in camp." 



A MORNING FROLIC. 



We made a hasty toilet and H. went to 

 the boat house for the boat while I re- 

 paired to the swamp near by for bait. 



It was a morning lit for great deeds. 

 Two squirrels were scolding and chasing 

 each other about the big tree near our 

 tent. The flickers, woodpeckers and rob- 



a-fishing, and though they used neither 

 rod nor line, each had a good sized ratchet 

 wheel in his voice which he wound and 

 unwound with unwearying pertinacity. 



Only a few choice angle worms were 

 needed. We used these as lures for the 

 unwary perch; and small, tough, white 

 strips from the belly of the perch made a 

 lasting chew and a killing bait for the wily 

 bass and the voracious pickerel. 



Our boat was ready. There were the 

 cushions for the seats, the rods and reels, 

 bait and 2 sets of oars, for we were going 

 across the lake. 



We turned our prow straight toward Pic- 

 nic Point, 4 miles away, while keeping the 

 stern pointed at our tent beneath the oak- 

 trees. Half way over, midway between 



OUT ON A FISHING TRIP. 



WHITE BREASTED WOODPECKER. 



the 'Varsity buildings on the right and 

 Governor's island on the left, we paused 

 a moment to consult the watch. Fifteen 

 minutes had elapsed. As we bent to tin- 

 oars for the last 15 minutes' pull our tenl 

 ins were answering roll call in the oak tree grew dim in the distance, and the poplar 

 overhead, and the soft cooing of a dove trees on duty in front slowly faded from 

 furnished bass for the music of the morn- sight. 



ing. Two kingfishers flew back and forth We drew near to the rocky, wooded 



along the shore. They, too, were going shores of Picnic bay. I baited the hooks 



343 



