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Jan.,191? CHARACTERISTIC ?IRDS O? THE DAKOTA PRAIRIES sac three Long-billed Marsh Wren nests were in sight, two old ones and one just begun, pretty domed structures with a round side entrance, woven of brown tules, eat-tail, cane leaves, and grass, with a soft lining of eat-tail down. Another marsh of this series was close behind the farmhouse. A Chinese wall of high tules and reeds hid the open water behind it unless you looked down from the terrace above, and myriads of birds lived there in happy security although automobiles passed along the highway only a few rods from the wall. Enticing, irresistible Marsh Wren songs came from within till, perforce, I sallied out to gaze through the chinks in the wall. The edge of the marsh was dry and skirted by cow trails, beyond which I made a short essay into the interior, using both hands to part the tules, for 'their crown of nutlets slap your cheeks with stinging blows as you crowd through them. While the footing was still firm enough to hold, I set up my camp stool and with the tules high above my head looked about my cage. The cool dark green waving rods were interwoven into a dense grill work with meshes so fine that, peer and twist and turu as you might--clumsy mor- tal-you could only guess at what was happening a foot from your nose! A pair of Tule Wrens that came elambering along till close to my face, stood staring at me, their black wiry legs clinging to tules so far .apart it seemed as if they must hinge outward. When satisfied with their scrutiny they wall?ed away again absolutely out of sight behind the network in a foot or two. The miniature forest .was full of the tantalizing talk and noises of a large invisible population. Ducks quacked so plainly I could see them ?with my mincl's eye), and heavy-bodied waterfowl went splashing into the water right there ahead of me--I knew just how they were lighting down. The flat tub-tub of Coots came so close I could picture their dark gray forms forging along between the tule rods in their bus?ness-]ike way. And, oh, that ecstatic outburst of the ?ora, that loud clear musical run down the scale close to my ear, and not a tule turned! -The ?ora, the quaint, the droll, the surprising ?ora! How good it was to hear him again! Looking overhead I could see ?wallows and Black Terns skimming along over the top of the marsh, and envied them their advantage. They could see down inside, perhaps, as they passed. But what were Rails to them ? It was too aggravating. I must see! l?ising with determination I crowded through the tules and crashed and crackled through the canes. A screeching, thunder- ing railroad train might as well expect to surprise a Hermit Thrush! I had obtruded. Unbroken silence ensued. The moral was all too plain. Would you see? Cultivate a philosophic spirit, be content to sit and listen to the voices of the marsh; let the fascinating, mysterious, bewildering voices encom- pass you and--hold your peace. ?pirits of the marsh--it is their magic forest. Let no mortal intrude. But a marsh like a mountain will not be exorcised and, "when the Red Gods mix their medicine", calls so insistently that you can but obey its sum- mons. That open water in the center of the marsh called me imperatively-- many a Duck had I seen curving over to settle down where it must be. The residents had not been encouraging. One said that you might take a step and go down up to your neck. Another, less conservative, told of a man who had driven into the marsh adjoining this and been sucked down by the bog, man, horses, and wagon disappearing forever! To prevent such an unpleas- antness, one familiar with bogs gave me a few careful directions: "always step ahead of yourself, never put down a foot so you can't draw it back, and