190 THE CONDOR Vol. XXI 
white spots in the tules across the lake all proved to be Herons, the small white 
spots at the foot of the tules, Ruddies, and those out on the lake, Gulls. 
Gecasionally during the summer I had caught glimpses of the Eared Grebe 
on the east side of the lake, so completing the number of those that breed in 
the northern United States. And on September 2, when, having returned to 
the farm on north Sweetwater, I drove back with our little school boy to see 
what was there, I discovered to my great delight, a mother Eared Grebe with 
the pointed crest and dark fall plumage, diving and feeding a half grown 
young one with a black crown and white throat and breast. Between feedings 
the little fellow helped himself a bit, putting his head adeptly under water. 
While I counted the number of times the active mother dived in a minute the 
school boy held the watch to time her. Six, seven, and six, the record ran, in 
the three minutes before the pair were hidden by the tules. It was a pretty 
picture of maternal devotion, the old mother, gentiest and most attractive of 
all the Grebes, working so tirelessly to care for her little one. The charm of 
the picture appealed to the child by my side, with a new little brother at home, 
und as we turned away he asked gently, ‘‘Isn’t it dear?’’ When shown the 
willow gateway and the platform where the nestling Coot had been, he entered 
right into the spirit of that, too, as we walked away, saying softly, ‘‘That’s a 
nice little place.’’ 
The morning when the four species of Grebes were disporting themselves 
outside the tules, hundreds of Ducks passed over from the east about half past 
nine, an enormous flock of Blue-winged Teal whistling low over my head with 
their tilting swerving flight, passing on to their feeding grounds at the 
back of the lake. The Ducks usually began coming earlier in the morning, and 
when the fields around their open eastern lakes were being harvested, appar- 
ently fled before the harvesters. 
As far as I could determine, the Ruddies were not among those who shifted 
Lo the open lakes for the night. The largest part of the Ruddy population of 
the lake, when wind and weather were favorable, were to be found in a quiet 
cove at the southwestern corner, protected by a border of thick woods and wil- 
‘ows and a wide band of tule. On two days when the cove was empty, it was 
swept by the wind. My first visit was ona quiet day and with the glass ! 
counted between a hundred and twenty and a hundred and thirty Ruddies 
among the brown spots in the cove, enumerating only those in which I could 
actually make out either the white cheek patches, the ruddy backs, or the spike 
tails. Another day—August 8—there were still more. There seemed to be a 
zood many females among them and there may have been more than I noted, 
for at a distance, unless the spike tails are seen, it is very hard to distinguish 
these obscure little Ducks. But in my count, the males seemed largely in the 
majority. Of thirty-nine counted on August 9, twenty-five were adult males, 
and on August 15, thirty-two males were counted and no females distinguished. 
From the cove it was an easy swim for the little Ruddies across to the 
north-west shore. Here there were jungles of cane, six to eight feet high, top- 
ped with heavy pinkish brown brooms, down whose lanes young families 
were seen swimming, and patches of high tule leading out with protecting cov- 
er to the main tule islands near the middle of the lake where busy waterfowl — 
were always to be seen. White spots at the base of stands of tule from shore 
to islands attested the popularity of the safe harbor with the Ruddies. Coots — 
and a variety of Ducks were also found here, swimming about with their small 
families. A Coot who caught sight of me as one of her red-heads started to 
