114 08 0 a a oR ee ‘Vol. XXI 
raised his head like a dog, showing his broad striped face. On discovering me 
he apparently ran down his burrow, but angry mutterings plainly told that it 
took some time for these hardy antagonists to cool down. Woe be to the small 
ground squirrels they hunt! 
A fourth badger was seen by the pasture fence. Ona pile of soft brown 
earth the large brownish white animal was industriously digging. As if failing 
to find his quarry, he backed out and went trotting down the cow path, his 
short tail up like a bulldog. Going under the fence he turned into the weeds 
and then, discovering me, stood looking at me through his screen of weeds, his 
white nose stripe, flat ears, and white face marks showing well. When satis- 
fied with his scrutiny he turned down a hole, growling as the others had. 
Numbers of large burrows in the neighborhood proved the industry of the bad- 
gers and the absence of ground squirrels attested the effectiveness of their 
labors. . 
The strip of prairie where I had found the Coulee badgers, extending along 
the east bank between the marshy edge of the water and the wheat fields of the 
terrace above, in late August made a golden band of prairie flowers. The stur- 
dy yellow Grindelia with its gummy flower heads—beneficent cure for poison 
ivy—golden rod, the autumn flower of the east, and a wild sunflower that 
looked up the slopes facing the morning sun, dominated the wild garden strip, 
but a touch of purple was added to the gold in a magenta spike, the blazing 
star, whose flowers suggest the fragrant white spirals of ladies’ tresses. 
Following the bench north to its highest crest I looked up the sinuous line 
of the Coulee and out north-east a mile away to the second Coulee Bridge, 
whose black iron frame stood high above the meadows. But the best view was 
from my old lookout on Badger Crest. With a strong wind from the northwest, 
the Coulee made a beautiful water color. Down its narrowing westerly course, 
soft browns and wind ruffled dark purple patches were brightened by the vivid 
green of the marsh grass; while to the north, beyond the protected bend, still 
soft blues and browns led the eye along its widened shores. Open under the 
blue sky lay the Coulee, the prairie wind blowing over it, blowing till its tall 
marsh grass and its brown-topped tules bowed to the east, while the white-— 
rumped Marsh Hawk hunted with hesitating flight up their borders. 
(To be continued) 
