Their powers of endurance are remarkable. Once, on the Restigouche, we
started a brood of little ones late in the afternoon. We were moving
along in a good current, looking for a camping ground, and had little
thought for the birds, which could never get far enough ahead to hide
securely. For five miles they kept ahead of us, rushing out at each
successive stretch of water, and fairly distancing us in a straight
run. When we camped they were still below us. At dusk I was sitting
motionless near the river when a slight movement over near the
opposite bank attracted me. There was the mother bird, stealing along
up stream under the fringe of bushes. The young followed in single
file. There was no splashing of water now. Shadows were not more
noiseless.
Twice since then I have seen them do the same thing. I have no doubt
they returned that evening all the way up to the feeding grounds where
we first started them; for like the kingfishers every bird seems to
have his own piece of the stream. He never fishes in his neighbor's
pools, nor will he suffer any poaching in his own. On the Restigouche
we found a brood every few miles; on other rivers less plentifully
stocked with trout they are less numerous. On lakes there is often a
brood at either end; but though I have watched them carefully, I have
never seen them cross to each other's fishing grounds.
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