Nothing

It was immediately apparent that this was a baby, and I had startled it out of its nest for its very first flight. It made it about three quarters of the way across and splashed down, floated and fluttered in a small black island of feathers. I felt bad. It suddenly occurred to me why people should stay out of wild places.

Thought I would swim out and get it but it was too far. So cursing in agitation I tramped down the road around to the end of the lake, which was still a good distance, past the swamp, where I would get naked, swim out to it - about 100 feet. I lifted the bird out of the water with one hand and did a one-handed dog paddle with the other back to shore. It was still still alive but seemed to be in shock and unmoving. Dressed again all wet, I carried it back to camp and put it under the tree where it had flown from. Things looked ominous but I made a little nest in the leaves and hoped for the best.

One of the best parts of the day was the evening fly-by. Around dusk I would take my chair, a one and a quarter pound sling back I had designed and built myself, out to the tip of the peninsula to watch the birds fly. There would be maybe a hundred Swallows and a dozen Bats flying back and forth, concentrated just in this area. Of course they were catching bugs, but why just here and no where else I could not determine, unless it was because the bugs came out of the grass which jutted out into the lake, and over flew the water where the birds had ample flying room.

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