Jan., 1919 A RETURN TO THE DAKOTA LAKE REGION 9 
fore them; and when the drakes joined them, they all swam around in prosaic 
unemotional fashion. One of the ducks, however, had been singled out and ap- 
parently won, for she was certainly being championed most vigorously. But, 
as if she were a prime favorite whose suitors could not give her up, her lord, 
whom I dubbed Lord of the Fray, went about with the proprietory airs of one 
whose possessions are disputed. When other drakes were near, he swam close 
beside her, getting her rapidly out of the way, and when perhaps a rejected 
suitor swam in toward her, chased him back with a decided air of ‘‘This is my 
mate, I’d have you know!’’ When matters were comparatively quiet, the Lord 
of the Fray having properly disciplined all the drakes on the west side of the 
Bridge, from the east side, swimming in under the Bridge, came a fourth drake, 
and with the appearance of an ardent suitor, swam straight toward the much 
disputed lady. At this the enfuriated Lord of the Fray bristled up, put his 
head down and swam at the interloper so hard he had to dive, ignominiously. 
When he finally came up he hung around for a while, but was so persistently 
snubbed that he soon swam back to his own side of the Coulee. It was alto- 
gether a most amusing comedy, but after all, why should we laugh when the 
unconscious players were merely puppets in Nature’s hands as she worked out 
the great law of monogamy ? 
While the Ruddies were engaged in their jousting, though a Shoveller flew 
down with his chuck-ah, a Marsh Hawk beat over the tules, and a Crow passed 
nagged by a Redwing, nobody paid any attention; the pre-occupied Ducks ig- 
noring them as completely as they did the ecstatic outbursts of the Sora from 
the high grass beneath the Bridge. This was on July 1. On July 3, although 
there was such a strong east wind that the large lake on the east of the road 
was angry with white-capped rollers, two Ruddy drakes were swimming along 
the Coulee. So peaceable were they, I couid but conclude that courtship rival- 
ries were over and their brown mates were inside the marsh, happily engaged 
in nest making. When a Shoveller and a Blue-winged Teal swam up the Coulee 
close to one of the Ruddies, he never turned a feather. The Law of the Family 
had been established. A Ruddy drake that I saw on July 6 swam out from 
under the Bridge, back ruffed up and tail down as if ready for the fray; but 
as no one came, he put up his tail, did chin exercises and clucked to himself, or 
—perhaps a brown dame was within hearing inside the canes. 
Soon after this I started on my visits to other lakes, but late in August, I 
revisited the Bridge. With a strong west wind there was little to be seen on 
the sparkling water of the Coulee, but a sudden rapturous burst of song came 
from a Sora, probably the very one that had answered me by mistake earlier 
in the summer. The Yellow Warbler and Song Sparrow piped up as in June, 
but the cane bordering the Coulee had grown much higher, and brown topping 
plumes waved in the wind. A flock of Blue-wings flew rapidly by, and a soli- 
tary Shoveller, perhaps from a belated nest, lit on the water. At a sudden 
plunk at the end of the Bridge below me, I peered down discovering the head of 
a swimming muskrat. Its nose was well up out of the water, and I could see 
its hairy back and long ratty tail as it swam. But just then it dived under the 
Bridge, and was seen no more. 
As I listened, a new sound was heard—the thud, thud, thud of a threshing 
machine in a wheat field beyond. Belching out straw, it was rapidly building 
up a high straw stack. Sheaves still standing, bundles being loaded onto some 
of the wagons, and carried up to the machine by others, made a busy scene. A 
