is more likely) their right consists in discovery or first
arrival, there is no means of knowing.

A curious thing, in this connection, is that while a kingfisher
will allow none of his kind to poach on his preserves, he lives
at peace with the brood of sheldrakes that occupy the same
stretch of river. And the sheldrake eats a dozen fish to his one.
The same thing is noticeable among the sheldrakes also, namely,
that each pair, or rather each mother and her brood, have their
own piece of lake or river on. which no others are allowed to
fish. The male sheldrakes meanwhile are far away, fishing on
their own waters.

I had not half settled this matter of the division of trout
streams when another observation came, which was utterly
unexpected. Koskomenos, half reptile though he seem, not only
recognizes riparian rights, but he is also capable of
friendship--and that, too, for a moody prowler of the wilderness
whom no one else cares anything about. Here is the proof.

I was out in my canoe alone looking for a loon's nest, one
midsummer day, when the fresh trail of a bull caribou drew me to
shore. The trail led straight from the water to a broad alder
belt, beyond which, on the hillside, I might find the big brute
loafing his time away till evening should come, and watch him to
see what he would do with himself.

As I turned shoreward a kingfisher sounded his rattle and came
darting across the mouth of the bay where Hukweem the loon had
hidden her two eggs. I watched him, admiring the rippling sweep