Ue Sie Ue bOeN me belek ral N 15 
as soon as the first is laid, and continue to lay more eggs at the rate 
of about one a week. As a result, the brood hatches out at intervals, and 
the same nest may have several young hawks of different. sizes in it, 
besides eggs. When McFarland reported the nest in his hayfield it held 
six gape-mouthed young hawks and one egg. Mr. Musselman arranged to 
visit the nest Friday afternoon to band the young hawks. When he and 
Mr. McFarland reached the nest they found the seventh egg had hatched, 
too, but that sudden death had struck the little family, death in the form 
of a prowling fox. The story was all there to be read by the nature- 
wise, but the seven little hawks were gone—probably down the gullets of 
a litter of young foxes. The vicinity is overrun by foxes. The young 
marsh hawks must have provided a novel feast for the fox family, how- 
ever, for ordinarily marsh hawks nest in the grasses of swampy marsh 
areas, rather than in such territory as that around Fowler. 
“The third tragedy occurred Saturday morning, and disclosed the 
quite amazing fact that a wood duck, following the increasingly urban 
habit of that wary tribe, evidently had hatched out a brood of young 
wood ducks in Madison Park, at Twenty-fourth and Maine, a good two 
miles from the river, with a mile of residential area and a mile of business 
area on the route through which she would have had to guide her brood 
to water. 
“The discovery came when a neighbor of Mr. Musselman’s, Mrs. George 
H. Wilson, 120 South Twenty-fourth, called his home and asked his daugh- 
ter, Ginger, if Mr. Musselman had some little wood ducks that might have 
gotten out. ‘They’re paddling around in the gutter across the street,’ the 
informant said. But before Ginger could investigate, an automobile 
stopped, two men caught the tiny ducklings—three or four of them—and 
departed with them. 
““T’m convinced,’ said Mr. Musselman, ‘that they were little wood 
ducks, probably hatched out right there in Madison Park. The neighbor 
who called had seen the little fellow I had this week and said those in 
the rain puddle in the street were exactly like it.’ Mr. Musselman voiced 
fear that the men who picked up the tiny ducklings would not be able to 
rear them as it is difficult and a very tricky business to rear such young 
wildlings. 
“The chance of the mother duck’s ever having convoyed her brood 
safely to the river through two miles of city streets, however, was about 
as remote as snow in July, Mr. Musselman agreed. Several years ago in 
Beardstown, he said, a wood duck hatched out her brood 10 blocks frora 
the Illinois River and started to convoy them through four blocks of 
residence area and six blocks of business area. ‘They didn’t even reach 
the business area,’ said Mr. Musselman sadly. ‘The kids and dogs had a 
field day, and when the ‘fun’ was over not a single little wood duck 
survived.’ ” 
That the above report attracted attention is quite evident as can be 
seen from the following report which appeared in the Herald-Whig of 
July 4, 1946. 
