I had a presentiment that they would find
none, so kept the camera and went off to the Lake a mile west, and
there made drawings of some tracks, took photos, etc., and on the
lake saw about twenty-five pairs of ducks, identified Whitewinged
Scoter, Pintail, Green-winged Teal, and Loon. I also watched the
manoeuvres of a courting Peetweet. He approached the only lady with
his feathers up and his wings raised; she paid no heed (apparently),
but I noticed that when he flew away she followed. I saw a large
garter snake striped black and green, and with 2 rows of red
spots, one on each side. It was very fat and sluggish. I took it
for a female about to lay. Later I learned from Sousi and others
that this snake is quite common here, and the only kind found,
but in the mountains that lie not far away in the west is another
kind, much thicker, fatter, and more sluggish. Its bite is fearfully
poisonous, often fatal; "but the Good God has marked the beast by
putting a cloche (bell) in its tail."
About 10 I turned campward, but after tramping for nearly an
hour I was not only not at home, I was in a totally strange kind
of country, covered with a continuous poplar woods. I changed my
course and tried a different direction, but soon was forced to the
conclusion that (for the sixth or seventh time in my life) I was
lost.
"Dear me," I said, "this is an interesting opportunity. It comes
to me now that I once wrote an essay on 'What To Do and What Not
To Do When Lost In the Woods.' Now what in the world did I say in
it, and which were the things not to do. Yes, I remember now, these
were the pieces of advice:
"1st. 'Don't get frightened.' Well, I'm not; I am simply amused.
"2d. 'Wait for your friends to come.' Can't do that; I'm too busy;
they wouldn't appear till night.
"3d. 'If you must travel, go back to a place where you were sure
of the way.' That means back to the lake, which I know is due west
of the camp and must be west of me now."
So back I went, carefully watching the sun for guidance, and soon
realised that whenever I did not, I swung to the left. After nearly
an hour's diligent travel I did get back to the lake, and followed
my own track in the margin to the point of leaving it; then, with
a careful corrected bearing, made for camp and arrived in 40 minutes,
there to learn that on the first attempt I had swung so far to the
left that I had missed camp by half a mile, and was half a mile
beyond it before I knew I was wrong.
