a swath on the smooth bosom of
the lake.

Several coots now appeared on the scene. Between them and the ruddy
ducks there seemed to be a feud of more or less intensity, each being on
the offensive or the defensive as the exigencies of naval warfare
demanded. Once I was moved to laughter as a coot made a fierce dash
toward one of the ducks, and was almost upon her, and I thought she was
destined to receive a severe trouncing, when she suddenly dodged her
pursuer by diving. He just as suddenly gave up the chase, looking as if
it were a case of "sour grapes," anyway.

After watching the antics of these birds for a long time, I turned my
attention to another pretty scene,--a pair of coots leading their family
of eight or ten little ones out into the clear area from their
hiding-place among the reeds, presenting a picture of unruffled domestic
bliss. How sweet and innocent the little coots were! Instead of the
black heads and necks of their parents, and the white bills and frontal
bones, these parts were tinted with red, which appeared quite bright and
gauze-like in the sunshine.

The process of feeding the juvenile birds was interesting. The parents
would swim about, then suddenly dip their heads into the water, or else
dive clear under, coming up with slugs in their bills. Turning to the
youngsters, which were always close upon their heels--or perhaps I
would better say their tails--they would hold out their bills, when the
little ones would swim up and pick off the toothsome morsel. It must not
be supposed that the bantlings opened their mouths, as most young birds
do, to receive the tidbits. No, indeed! That is not coot vogue. The
little ones picked the insects from the sides of the papa's or mamma's
beak, turning their own little heads cunningly to one side as they
helped themselves to their luncheon.

The other waterfowl of the lake acted in an ordinary way, and therefore
need no description. It was strange, however, that this was the only
lake seen in all my Rocky Mountain touring where I found waterfowl. At
Seven Lakes, Moraine Lake, and others in the vicinity of Pike's Peak,
not a duck, crane, or coot was to be seen; and the same was true of
Cottonwood Lake, twelve miles from Buena Vista, right in the heart of
the rugged mountains.

[Illustration: "_From their place among the reeds_"]

Two facts may account for the abundance of birds at the little lake near
Buena Vista; first, here they were protected from g