In early spring, Reed Hens return from the southern winter quarters and hunt up their summer pond. Like the Stork and the Swallow, they return from year to year to their chosen and beloved home. Among last year’s reeds and gray rushes, the pair bustle around hunting food and a suitable place for the cradle of their children. They are neat and graceful looking Birds, interesting in every movement, likewise in figure and coloring. The feathers are dark brown and slate gray, spotted white on the sides. The forehead is red and the glistening eyes are encircled with yellow, gray and red rings. The bill is yellow at the point and red at the roots. The long toes are edged with flaps for swimming and they glide easily and safely over the water. They locate their nest on a down-trodden reed bush by the shore, a low decayed trunk of a tree or on the edge of an island of leaves. It is mostly hidden and presents little of beauty, but is suitable for its purpose. From six to twelve eggs are soon laid therein, which are large for the size of the Bird, and are spotted dark brown. The hatching lasts three weeks, then the young ones appear, cute little things who leave the nest the next day and follow the lead of the mother into the water. A more delightful picture can hardly be imagined, than when the little chicks bustle around the parents, now here, now there, catching large flies, a worm, or a water insect. Swift as an arrow they shoot towards the mother when she has found a morsel for them. Alertly the old ones watch in every direction for possible danger. Now appears above them a dark circling dot. A short call, and swift as lightning the whole family disappears. Where to? One could hardly guess if not here and there a brown head peeps out from under the green leaf or blade in the water, or a yellow bill point appears on the mirrored surface. When the danger is over, all again appear. These Birds are experts in hide and seek play. They dive and swim like a Fish under water, using their wings to row. It would appear as though no enemy could harm them. Mankind protects them. Dogs and Cats cannot pursue them into the water. Falcon, Hawk or Marshbirds cannot find their hiding places. Yet in the midst of the quiet, poetic, lonely pond, among blooming water-roses and lilies, treason and death lurks for them; and this enemy, knavish and frightful, the Reed Hen cannot escape. It is the Pike. His outward appearance shows what a bold robber he is. The trunk narrow and long, the flattened head with wide open, broad jaws lined with a terrible set of long, pointed, rake-like teeth. Anything they catch hold of is lost.