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 Jan., 1919 A RE;TURN TO THE; DAKOTA LAK REGION and again in the same places in the canes, near which they clung to stalks and emitted their strange notes, their,Red-headed Woodpecker kar'r'r and their Redwing karrowe' and kerrup. Maryland Yellowthroats were singing and the scale of the Sofa came up from various parts of the marsh. In a mass of green at the end of the Bridge ! caught sight of a mite of a Marsh Wren atilt of a stalk, singing a squeaky little song, clack, clack-ah, clack-ah, clack that changed to a scolding chatter as he watched us--cha-cha-cha-cha-cha, cha. But best of all were the loud joyous songs of the two Bobolinks, the Bobolink of the Meadows,. and the Bobolink of the Sloughs. From the water below us came 'the unmistakable throaty pumping of the Ruddy--ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip--cluck', ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip--cluck'. Absurd, sel-im- portant little chap! At the flat tub' of a Coot, Ruddy bridled, sat up, pumped, and clucked again. He was so close below and apparently so fearless that I forgot everything but my pleasure and interest in finding him there, and, off guard, must have moved, for, dropping his cocky air, he hurriedly started for shore, diving and Swimming under water, coming up only to dive again. My little companion, greatly impressed by the field glass she held in her hand asked eagerly. "You can't see him through the water, diving, with this here, can you ?" As I gazed down from the Bridge over the narrow waterways through the green, looking for swimmers, a handsome yellow and black snake pulled him- self sinuously across the Coulee. Beautiful tree-like water weeds standing in the stream bed and reaching up to the sunlit surface looked like golden fila- ments. On the opposite side of the Bridge, the knightly spears of tall Sagitta- rias rose above the water, 'while hair-like masses of weed lay on the surface garlanded with delicate flowers as if decorating the brows of some floating Elaine. Small blue dragon flies resting on the water weeds, large gauzy black- banded ones flying above, and exquisite orange-colored gauzy wings alighting on the Bridge, birds of the air flying about freely overhead, birds of the water swimming secretly through the mazes below, made a fascinating scene. Over the Bridge-framed pictures of green fields and white clouds, the lights and shades shifted, with developing charm of color. With the sun under a cloud, the wheat fields were a dull green; as the clouds broke away at the edges, long streaks of light illumined the prairies; and when the last clouds melted away the whole broad landscape was flooded with warm yellow light. After watching the birds for a long time in their setting, the peace and beauty of that setting gradually dominated all the rest. A strange Bridge it seemed--no link in the noisy traffic of the world, but .aerely a green-carpeted span across a green-veiled waterway, idling between green farm lands, winding around reedy bends and losing itself in marshy meadow borders; the only sounds coming from it, the buzzing of insects and 'he call of birds, as the sweet air of the prairie breathed quietly over it. No intrusive discordant elements of world traffic could enter here--no shrieking boat whistles, no rattling railroad trains. Away to the horizon stretched the green blanket, so far that, as you gazed, you felt the convexity of the great prairie--windmill sails on one horizon, houses half hid in wheat on the other. Even the untutored child at my side was impressed by it, asking incredulously, "Ain't there no ezd to the world?" (To be continued)