The walk (I had by now determined to walk completely around the lake) – the walk along the eastern shore was delightful. There was evidence that the lake was much lower now than it was usually - that is, while it would not amount to much in feet, the bed of the lake was so flat, that a matter of inches in recession would expose several feet of shore. There was a strip of lakebed lying exposed about 15 or 20 feet wide; it was soft and spongy, and overgrown in many places with grass, smartweed and yellow-flowered Spanish needles. The latter tormented me by sticking to my socks and the lower edge of my trousers. I had to stop frequently and remove them. To do so, I sat on a convenient stump, and after the job was done, I would sit awhile and watch the dancing reflections of the lowlying sun in the water.
     I had not gone far, when I scared up a half-dozen or so wild ducks and almost at the same time I became conscious of a low murmuring clamor at the northern end of the lake, which I soon saw came from little blobs of white & black dancing on the surface of the water. A thrill went thru me as I realized I was beholding a flock of wild duck at rest - a common sight to most hunters, but no matter how often or how long before a natural phenomenon has been seen by “other” beings, each one’s