Sept., 1919 A RETURN TO THE DAKOTA LAKE REGION 191 
eross a waterway made it turn back abruptly by her terrified, peremptory 
tub-up; and by her hysterical outbursts made a Marsh Hawk change his mind 
several times when starting to light on the tules. 
This northwestern secluded part of the lake, farthest from even occasionai 
passersby, was that in which Tule Wrens sang, and into which the flocks of 
Ducks that came over in the early mornings first settled down, and were seen 
bathing, rushing around in the water, or rising and flying across to the Coulee 
or the long slough in the pasture where they liked to rest. They also gathered 
here under the tules and the protecting bank above when a high northwest wind 
had erested the lake with white caps and driven the water fowl to cover; for 
whichever way the wind blew across the lake, the Ducks were to be found un- 
der the bank on the side from which it came, as in this way they escaped the 
roughness of waves swept by the wind. Large flocks assembled on the long 
slough in the pasture—three hundred I counted at one time—standing in close 
rows with bills on their shoulders looking like headless horsemen, or, in view 
of their brown eclipse plumage assumed after the breeding season, more par- 
ticularly suggesting rows of mushrooms, brown on top, lighter below. Who 
and what were they all? After watching the handsomely and distinctively col- 
ored males in the early part of the season, it was trying enough to have them 
mask themselves in this way, and I greeted the diagnostic spoon bill of the 
Shoveller, the long neck of the Pintail, and the blue wing patches of the Teal 
with positive gratitude. 
Sometimes a great flock would rise and break away, leaving me bewildered 
if they failed to show the few earmarks J had mastered during the season. Alas 
for the acquired knowledge of the hunter without his bag! At the lake end of 
the slough, one morning, seeing only a few Ducks in the marsh grass to detain 
me, I was hurrying by when, with a roar, a well hidden flock rose before my 
astonished gaze. Even more pasture land had formerly been given over to the 
water fowl of the adjoining lake, for, as had been proved by a lengthy law suit, 
this was meandering land, changing its boundaries with the changing rainfall 
so that no titles could be given to it by the government. 
3 
While the larger part of the waterfowl of the lake were naturally founda 
along its sheltering marshy borders, some interesting sights were seen off the 
wooded southern shore. On my first visit to this shore, looking through the 
trees, I saw an intimate family picture—two of the handsome red-necked Hol- 
beell Grebes swimming protectingly around with their two downy young. So 
I had found the breeding ground of the Holbeell at last and should have the op- 
portunity to study it! Three days later, on August 1, I found an adult with 
two nearly half grown young. While the mother—to settle all matters of sex 
arbitrarily—bathed and preened, showing her warm ruddy neck and white 
throat patch, the young showed the white throat—a distinet patch across the 
water—a pale reddish neck, and the characteristic Grebe breast. While the 
mother rose and shook the water from her feathers, one of the young indo- 
jently lay prone on the water and stretched his foot. The next evening be- 
tween 6:30 and 6:50 I found the old Grebe giving her young what was proba- 
bly their last meal for the night. As she held her bill down, a pretty effect was 
given, the loop made by neck and bill being reflected in the water. Six Hol 
bells were subsequently seen, resting out in front of the tules bordering the 
lake. 
