THE WILD RICE BEDS 



GALLING ON THE MARSH BIRDS 



How a Canadian Naturalist Works in Getting a Photographic 

 Record of His Country's Feathered Inhabitants 



BY BONNYGASTLE DALE 



ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 



HE waters from the 

 great Kawartha chain 

 of lakes empty into 

 Rice Lake through 

 the long, winding 

 course of the Otonabee 

 River; the river forks 

 at its mouth, spreading 

 out over a square mile of marsh, bog and 

 drowned land. As far back as our records 

 go, as far back as the legends of the Missis- 

 saugas take us, this river mouth, grown 

 thick with wild rice, wild oats and wild 

 celery, has been the breeding ground of the 

 waterfowl and the shore birds. When we 

 first saw it, one cold, blustering March day, 

 a day of alternate flashes of brightest sun- 

 light and scurrying snowstorms, it was all 

 ice-bound. But we knew the power of the 

 sun in this temperate zone and made ready 

 for our work. My fat assistant, Fritz, toiled 

 up the island's bank with cameras, marsh- 

 floats, push-poles, boxes of connecting tubes 



and bulbs, typewriter, telescope and all the 

 camp duffle needed in this interesting life 

 of nature study. As for myself, I confess 

 that, despite long training, I as usual ne- 

 glected the work to "look around." The 

 trees of our island of the Beaver loomed 

 stark in leafless tracery against the blue sky, 

 the "shanty" was a litter of scattered duck 

 feathers, torn and nibbled wads and boxes, 

 destroyed nests where the squirrels had re- 

 built them, all telling of many visits from 

 squirrel, stoat, weasel and rat; one bright- 

 eyed red rascal had taken up winter quarters 

 in the duck feather bed hanging from the 

 rafters and threw out a perfect cloud when 

 we disturbed him. 



Two weeks of April weather melted the 

 snow off the marsh, honeycombed the lake 

 ice and opened up a tiny blue ribbon of 

 water at the river's mouth. No sooner had 

 the mimic waves sparkled in the sun than 

 the heralds of the great migrating hosts 

 began to arrive, and so sure were we of their 



