Nov., 1919 A RETURN TO THE DAKOTA LAKE REGION 229 
only a few yards from me, all unaware of my presence. A young eaeee flew 
into the bushes at the lake end of my path, while a Flicker and a Goldfinch 
eame in almost over my head, as undisturbed as the Meadowlark singing out- 
side. 
A flock of about forty Ruddies had gathered in the quiet corner out of the 
wind. In the strong western light that slanted full across the safe harbor, their 
white cheek patches were dazzlingly snow white, their bodies a warm rufous. 
A pretty sight they made, riding mirrored on the smooth water, a blue bill and 
white cheek patch in duplicate making indeed a striking picture. A big 
mother Canvasback swam in through an open space between the Ruddies—a 
steamship plowing its way among motor boats—leaving a long, strongly marked 
wake behind her and diving at its point. In feeding, one of her family stood on 
his head, tail in air; another, after bathing, rose so straight he almost tipped 
over backwards. 
Three young Coots climbed up eagerly into a yard of tule that rose out of 
the water in the center of the protected harbor, its slender stems charmingly 
reflected below. Coots’ Rest I had come to eall it, from seeing a matronly old 
Coot standing there preening herself, looking round and comfortable as it she 
were on her own home island. Now, however, two of the young ones got to 
scrapping and rose bill to bill, one finally driving the other into the water. 
His undisputed possession of the little island did not last long, however, for the 
queenly old Canvasback who had come in among the Ruddies swam up to the 
pleasant resting place quite as if all the lake were hers by right, and the ag- 
gressive young Coot hurriedly slipped off into the water. 
At one time the yard of tules constituting Coot’s Rest was taken possession 
of by a mother Shoveller who in moving around showed her orange under man- 
dible and feet, and was apparently taking solid comfort on the little island— 
for even Ducks seem to like to tread on terra firma occasionally, perhaps to get 
their sea legs off! When she went out to feed, she let the mud strain out of her 
bill in good spoonbill fashion. Another time four Ducks were enjoying the 
wisp of tule, one barely visible inside the thickest part of the screen, while 
swimming around close by, Blue-winged Teal tipped up their wings so the wide 
blue patch and its bordering white and green showed, and others of their con- 
freres flew in calling softly. When a Ruddy autocratically rushed along by 
Coots’ Rest, routing out one of the Ducks which was taking its ease, a big flock 
of Ducks passed close over the water, and Ruddy, canting his head over to 
look up, apparently forgot the small tule island and swam on. 
The evening that the waterfowl gathered in the protected harbor to get 
out of the wind, across the lake, above the harvest fields dotted with sheaves 
of wheat, a creamy cumulus cloud arose, to be reflected in the lake. Seat- 
tered over the harbor, Coots were getting their evening meal in various ways— 
picking lightly from the surface, plunging their heads under water, or diving 
with a splash that sent the water sparkling into the air. 
On the outer edge of the circle of Ruddies, Coots, and Canvasbacks, I was 
glad to discover my family of Holbcell Grebes, characteristically keeping a 
little apart. The sun touched up the red throat and white face patch of the old 
mother who was followed close by her little one swimming with bill open. talk- 
ing as usual in a soft young voice close by her ear. When she dived and came 
up with food, two of the young swam toward her for their share, but ske had 
taught them to fend for themselves, and even the little Talker was now diving 
