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 20 THI CONDOR Vol. XVIII if you go in a hole, back up; turn your foot sidewise and bend the tales down under it; steady yourself with a handful of tales." With these valuable directions in mind I made my way laboriously through canes and tules and along interior bays of marsh grass. Though none of the wary birds waited for me, a startled yellow ball bounded up into the air ahead of me and coming down proved to be a Maryland Yellowthroat; I caught it giving its flight song in this explosive manner later. Tule Wren parents fairly held me up in the canes, demanding my business. There were many opportunities to compare the Tale Wren's mechanical round, clatter, clatter, clatter, clatter, clatter, with the Short-billed Wren's cha-cha, chat-ah- cha, or chee-chut, chee-chut, chee-chut, chee-chut, chee-chut, chee-chut, chee-chut. One of the Short-bills, singing out of sight in the marsh gra.ss bordering the rules, at my answering whistle came out into view, a little light-colored ball on a grass stem. Excited by what he saw and heard he came on toward me, his tail flattened over his back, singing hard, droll midget, bent on finding the intruder and having it out with him on the spot; for this was his patch of marsh grass ! In working my way through the marsh, wading from one cane island to' another, there came one glorious moment when the fact that just then there seemed no footing short of the orient was instantly forgotten, and visions of disappearing farmers and teams vanished, for whizzing over the rules only a few yards away came a Nelson Sparrow, a new bird to me, giving his loud flight song. his startling, original outburst, that struck the ear like a bang of cymbals--'Tsang-ger-ee. While this exciting outburst was still ringing in my ears, the old explorer of bogs joined me, and carefully testing footholds and ordering me to step in his boot prints, led me out to the edge of the open water. A female Mallard burst from her nest beside us as my guide bent down a mass of long tales to serve as a platform, a very quaking platform it must be acknowledged, from which I could look out over the interior lake. At last I had arrived! The water was so shallow that clumps and streaks of tules afforded shel- ter for the Coots and Ducks. Part of the surface of the water was covered with beautiful pinkish algae. Surprised beside a wisp of tule, a Black-crowned Night Heron, crouching low as if trying to make himself inconspicuous, was in the fullest beauty of his nuptial plumage, lovelier than I had ever imagined he could be, with delicate yellow skin around his face and white nuptial plumage curved .gracefully over his back. Meanwhile a less experienced young one, a nondescript gawky long-legs, made itself the one object in the landscape by trying awkwardly to. climb up a clump of tales. Swallows and Black Terns were skimming over the water, and a Tern with food dangling from its bill flew straight across the lake to the tules; how I longed to follow! A Ruddy Duck with a brood of ducklings sat on the water in a narrow tule lane. As we watched a handsome male Ruddy swam eagerly in as if to join his little family, but to my surprise and indignation was driven back by the mother. On em'erging from the tules we climbed a low sagebrush hill from which we had a generalized view of the marsh and lake, whose blue water changed to green near the opposite shore'. ACross the lake the heads of a band. of Red- heads caught the sun and glowed splendidly. Pied-billed Grebe, Blue-winged Teal, and a great number of Ducks too far away to be named gave me the satisfaction of knowing how thickly populated was this hidden lake. There had need be a Chinese wall around this home of the waterfowl!