BLACKPAD, THE LEADER OF THE V. 



E. C. ALLEK. 



It was late spring. Far back from the 

 coas 1 : the cinnamon ferns in the swamps had 

 lost all their graceful curls, and had spread 

 forth to catch every beam of sunshine that 

 tillered through the dense growth above. 

 Along the brooks the lily pads were creep- 

 ing close to the surface of the water. 



One of these brooks, after flowing several 

 miles through a mixed forest of hemlock, 

 spruce, and hard woods, emerged into a 

 long, grassy meadow, in which it broadened 

 out and flowed slowly, as if unwilling to 

 leave the warm spring sunshine ; then, dis- 

 appearing into the forest again, flowed off 

 to join its sister streams on their journey 

 to the sea. 



At the upper end of the meadow, and at 

 the edge of the thicket, was an old maple 

 that had been uprooted by a heavy wind 

 years before. Under the trunk and down 

 near the gnarled roots, with the dead 

 meadow grass and low bushes forming an 

 excellent screen, was the future mother 

 of the leader of the V sitting quietly on II 

 pale blue eggs. Only a wily old black duck. 

 She had little fear, for the nesting place 

 had been well chosen, and her dark brown, 

 buff margined feathers blended perfectly 

 with the dead leaves and dead meadow 

 grass. She had seen nothing of her mate 

 since she had begun her faithful watch over 

 her treasure, though she had sometimes 

 heard his loud "quack, quack," and the 

 whistle of his wings, as he sailed down into 

 the brook on his return from the coast. 

 Of this she cared little. She was anxiously 

 listening for the sound that would tell her 

 she would soon be the mother of as large 

 a family as any old duck could properly 

 care for. 



At last it came ; only a faint tapping on 

 the inside of a shell. This was followed 

 by another, then another, which soon de- 

 veloped into quite a commotion, as n 

 downy, dusky babies burst their bonds and 

 struggled for an entrance into a sunny but 

 cruel world. 



The following morning, after a careful 

 survey to see that the coast was clear, 

 Madam Duck led her offspring from the 

 shelter of the old maple, toward the brook, 

 for their first lesson in discovering food on 

 its muddy bottom. No lesson was needed 

 in swimming, although they had never 

 seen water. The way to the brook was 

 so selected that every convenient bush 

 aided to conceal the duck family. It 

 needed but the stirring of a branch or bit 

 of grass to bring the head of the dusky 

 mother into an erect, watchful position. 



What living creature can be more rigid than 

 a black duck or a bittern, scenting danger. 

 Despite the efforts of the mother to make 

 a guarded advance and yet keep at the 

 head of her family, or rather keep them in 

 her rear, one youngster, who, like many a 

 youth of our own species, considered the 

 ways of his parent too slow, persisted in 

 forcing himself in advance of her, and 

 actually, on reaching the brook, tumbled in 

 without any attempt at secrecy. This 

 youngster was Blackpad, who was destined 

 to be the leader of his clan ; but he still had 



WlLfloffc 



BLACKPAD TUMBLED IN WITHOUT ANY AT- 

 TEMPT AT SECRECY. 



to learn that life in the forest was a wild, 

 wary fight for existence. 



What a jolly day that was, and how they 

 enjoyed themselves, ducking their heads 

 into the clear water and throwing it over 

 their backs, or probing the soft bottom for 

 insects, roots or water snails. The suc- 

 ceeding early summer days were full of 

 enjoyment. The nights were spent in 

 some convenient clump of bushes, far 

 enough back from the brook to be off the 

 highway of the crafty mink and other night 

 prowlers, who had their paths along its 

 borders. How Blackpad enjoyed those 

 cool summer evenings, as, nestled close 

 to his mother, he listened to the piping 

 of the frogs down in the brook, and the 

 sweet flutelike notes of the hermit thrushes 

 on the edge of the woods. Then when the 

 thrushes ceased and the stars came out, he 

 would push his bill under his stub of a 

 wing and forget the brook, and the thrushes, 

 and the stars. 



One morning while the family was tak- 



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