This story does not end in mysticism. It was suggested to me that there was a certain amount of seepage at the outlet, probably going under the bank and road, which the alewives felt and to which they reacted. I can only say that all has not been told about their sensitivity and perceptiveness ... transmitted from generation to generation through thousands of years. I was quite sure at least that they knew more about Long Pond than I. Even if all the long-range problems about their movements cannot be fathomed, there are enough local ones to keep a searcher busy. Given enough persistence of one’s own, they may all be solved; helped of course by the consistent fish. As the weeks went by I learned about most of the local areas where they spawned. I had noticed a school running offshore in the Upper Mill Pond, although I had not seen them in the act of spawning. But there was one place where I had seen them without knowing why. A few miles west of Stony Brook the fish come into the tidal inlet known as Quivett Creek, where they appear to reach a dead-end stretch of marsh ditched for mosquito control. I had tramped around in this boggy region, seen a few alewives there, and come to the quick conclusion that this was where they spawned. No one of whom I inquired in the vicinity could tell me otherwise. I did not know whether it was logical or not. They were not inclined, apparently, to spawn in the full ebb and flood of the tides, but looked instead for quiet waters. On the other hand, I had a pamphlet from the Fisheries Research Board of Canada which said, about alewives: “... in the Miramichi and other river systems extensive spawning takes place in the swift waters of the main tributaries.” This was not swift water but it drained and flooded daily. However, the fish did not seem to stay long in the ditches, for whatever reason. It was hard to believe that they would return to the Bay so quickly, when they had come to spawn. Being puzzled about it, I went back some days later. I walked again through the marsh at low tide when the ground was firmer, and finally I saw where the main flow narrowed into one of the ditches, then ran into a very small, almost imperceptible culvert that went under the highway, Route 6 A. Sure enough, on the other side of the road, in a ditched area tangled with briars, I could see many fish, slowly crowding on--but this was not the end of it either.