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A DRAKE REDHEAD AN EXPERT DIVER 



cealed theirs in the rank growth of the float- 

 ing bog. 



Hawk, the Mississauga guide, told us of a 

 loon's nest — Maung wasiswaun, he called it 

 — built on the bay's edge. He declared he 

 had crept up on the sleeping bird, drawing his 

 canoe along by grasping under the water the 

 roots of the flags and lilies. Noiseless as a 

 shadow he stole up on that great fowl and 

 with a swift throw and crafty motion passed 

 a loop of his bass line over the big head and 

 long bill. Instantly, without disturbing her 

 two large olive- and red-spotted eggs that lay 

 in the rude nest, she sprang struggling back, 

 beating the air with her short, strong wings; 

 the line parted and she escaped. We 

 secured the picture of a male loon that 

 crept up through the grass to see if we had 

 disturbed the nest, and rolled and wobbled 

 back in frantic haste when the camera 

 clicked. 



The herons build their huge nests in the 

 tops of the dead ash trees. Thatching these 

 over each season, they finally have a struc- 

 ture that looks like a wind-blown haystack, 

 caught in midair. The trees are fairly bur- 

 dened with these, and when all the sitting 



females rose in their nests as we rattled on 

 our canoe below, they looked like masts 

 stuck in so many tubs. The males circled 

 above the intruding craft, squawking and 

 screaming, but never once offering to attack 

 us. In June the two, three or four young- 

 sters are hatched, adding their cries finally 

 to the general clamor. The heronry is then 

 distinctly unpleasant, as the way of sanita- 

 tion is unknown to this family. The mothers 

 fill the air with complaints [of the hunger 

 of the big, half-naked nestlings and swoop 

 off in search of more, making a continual 

 procession of big, flapping herons, fish and 

 frog laden, ascending or heavily flapping 

 down to the feeding grounds again. Later 

 we pictured this big wader as it swam along 

 the shore, an unusual position; again we got 

 a separate head study. Another picture 

 secured was of a grand big male, a very 

 cautious chap. He would not approach our 

 hide (one cleverly made by a redskin, of 

 boughs and branches piled up and inter- 

 woven) so we pictured him across the little 

 bay, and away he flew with his legs trailing 

 behind like some long tail. One youngster 

 was too weak to stand without the aid of its 



