A desire to renew my acquaintance with—or perhaps I should say advances toward—this unbirdlike feathered biped, and to meet it under conditions more favorable for the camera hunter, brought me the following year (June 17, 1899), to the Montezuma marshes at the head of Cayuga Lake. Here are endless forests of cat-tails in which dwell not only Bitterns, Long-billed Marsh Wrens, and Red-winged Blackbirds, but also numbers of Pied-billed Grebes and Florida Gallinules. There is a mystery about a marsh akin to that which impresses one in a primeval forest. The possibilities of both seem limitless. One hears so much and sees so little. Birds calling from a distance of only a few yards may remain long unidentified. A rustling in the reeds arouses vague expectations. The notes of marsh-inhabiting birds are in keeping with the character of their haunts. They are distinctly wild and strange, and often thrilling. The Rails, for example, all have singular, loud, startling calls. The American Bittern is a famous marsh songster, but although several of his common names are based on his calls, it is only recently that he has actually been seen uttering them. The Gallinule resembles the hen in the character, volume, and variety of its notes, and to it and not the Clapper Rail should be given the name “Marsh Hen.” Indeed, its European relative, from which it can scarcely be distinguished, is known as the Moor Hen or Water Hen. But of all this marsh music none to my ear is more singular than the call of the Pied-billed Grebe. It is mentioned in few books, and has won the bird no such fame as the Loon’s maniacal laughter has brought him, though as a vocalist the Grebe fairly rivals his large cousin. Like most bird calls it is indescribable, but perhaps sufficient idea of its character may be given to lead to its identification when heard. It is very loud and sonorous, with a cuckoolike quality, and may be written _cow-cow-cow-cow-cow-cow-cow-cow-cow-uh, cow-uh, cow-uh, cow-uh_. These notes vary in number, and are sometimes followed by prolonged wailing _cows_ or _ohs_ almost human in their expressiveness of pain, fear, and anguish. This is the love song of the male, and when he has won a mate she joins him in singing, uttering, as he calls, a rapid _cuk-cuk-cuk_, followed by a slower _ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh_. The Gallinules were cackling in the reeds, where a nest with three hatching eggs was found, but not a bird was seen. Red-winged Blackbirds were chattering with excitement as they guided the first wing strokes of their young, who perched on the reeds begged eloquently for food rather than for lessons in flying.^{35} [Illustration: 35. Young Red-winged Blackbirds.] In a small island of cat-tails a pair of Grebes was calling, and after the most careful stalking my companion saw the female respond to the voice of her mate.