10

Yellow Lilies:The Gold of Rainbow Slough

R. Bruce Horsfall

Bruce Horsfall is one of America's greatest artists of birds and animals. If you read Nature Magazine, you will find some of his pictures there. He has also painted many backgrounds for mounted animals, such as you read about in the story of Carl Akeley.

A small boy, his shoes tied together with their own strings and slung over one shoulder, trudged along the muddy shore of Rainbow Slough. At each step the black soil oozed up in curly ribbons between his toes, while the hard clay a few inches below made walking slippery. But this was better than the higher slope where the saw grass grew—the grass with notched edges which cut like knives. It had already left several stinging slashes on his ankles and legs below the reach of his rolled-down trousers.

It was hot mid-day in early August. The air shimmered in a misty haze; not a breath of wind stirred the surface of the pond which lay quiet in the steaming heat. The buzz of countless insects and the hum of bees and flies filled the drowsy air. The smell of decaying plants and drying mud, mingled with the odors of growing plants, freshly cut marsh grass, and water lilies, came to the boy's nostrils. But he thoroughly enjoyed every whiff as he recognized the well-known odors of Rainbow Slough.

There was the spicy odor of the pennyroyal, tansy, and other marsh flowers; the sharp sweetness in the odor of the horsemint; and the overpowering perfume of the white pond lilies just beyond his depth out there in the water. However, he was not after white lilies, nor did he pick the lovely marsh mallows as he passed along, well knowing that they would droop and wither before he could get them home. They were so beautiful where they were! Neither did he pick the spikes of cardinal flowers, brilliant against their background of black mud or green grass.

This small boy had but one purpose in mind. He was after gold—yes, yellow gold—the gold of the lotus, and his nose told him while yet a mile away that his favorite lilies were in bloom and awaiting his coming.

He would get them, a big bunch of them—yellow lilies for his mother. He was tired now, yet knew it not. He had come a long, long trail since eight that morning; fully nine miles—seven of them lonely miles beyond the last house.

Anyone might have wondered what so small a boy was doing so far from home, for he was undersized in spite of his twelve years. But he was a self-reliant lad, and he had a purpose. What mattered that it had taken so much time for the journey; there had been so many interesting things to see. At noon he had rested and drunk at a cooling and refreshing spring under an overhanging cliff where he had often been before with his older brothers. The rest of the way was strange to him; yet he had made no mistake when he left the railroad and the hills and struck out across the wide river bottom to the lily pond. He had been there before by boat and the river route; so he knew when he came to the winding slough that he had found the right place.

He took off his clothes, tied them in a bundle, then held shoes and all upon his head and waded in. Halfway across, a sudden fright overtook him as the water weeds gripped about his legs, but only for a moment. Quickly turning on his back he kicked loose, and thus swimming above the weeds, though without the use of his hands, was soon on the other side. He then took up his march to where the lotus grew.

Soon he stopped to admire the beauty of the garden spider, whose web strung across his path. He gently frightened her so that she started swinging like a pendulum, as these spiders do when disturbed. Then he gently coaxed out of her resting place in a curled-over leaf another garden spider, very skillful in weaving wheel-shaped webs of great beauty. The wonderful webs of these two spiders he was careful not to disturb, stopping only to leave a grasshopper or other insect as a token of good-will.

At the foot of an open muddy slope he saw a round, black mass about the size of a dinner plate moving in the water's edge. Going closer, he discovered a father catfish, or bull-head, in charge of his multitude of babies. The young ones were swimming round and round while the father guarded just outside in the deeper water. The boy thought the old bullhead was the mother, and did not learn until years later that it was the father who takes charge of the eggs and the young.

While he watched, a small rock bass stole up to grab a baby catfish, and was promptly chased away by father bullhead, but at once another bass stole up from the other side, snatched one, and made his safe getaway. Thus these two pirates took turns from one side or the other until the distracted father knew not what to do.

Fascinated, the small boy watched what was going on in the water, sympathizing wholly with the catfish but powerless to help. He knew that the baby multitude had already dwindled to half its original size, and would continue to dwindle until only a thin line remained along the shore in the shallow water. So our young friend went regretfully on his way.

At the lotus bed the boy wandered delighted from flower to flower. Breathing deeply the sweet odor from each lily before plucking it, he marveled that the blossom could draw such a wealth of sweetness from the stickiest and blackest of mud. The young unopened blossoms had the finest fragrance, and of these he picked a dozen—a fair-sized bouquet. Wrapping a cool lily pad or two about their stems, he tied the whole together with twigs of young willow. Unwillingly he then turned away from the charming spot.

Pausing a few moments later for a last glimpse at father catfish and his babies, the boy thought that the little black wriggling mass had grown smaller, even during the short time he had spent at the lotus bed. Yet tarry he could not, for the afternoon was now well spent.

When he arrived at the place where he had crossed the slough, there arose the problem of how to get the heavy bunch of lilies over the pond. He needed both hands to hold his clothes upon his head, and the added burden of lilies would have sunk his head too low in the water. The lilies must be towed, yet he could not spare a hand to hold them. What was he to do? Ah, he had it, a towing rope of braided grass—just the thing. In a few moments he had a loop of the grass rope about his arm; the bundle of lilies was attached to the other end of the rope so that it floated out behind. The little fellow was a queer-looking object as he slowly but steadily crossed that wide lily pond. Twice he let his tired legs feel for bottom before he reached the other side, wading out to shore.

Tied to the bank near by, there was an old flat-bottomed boat, partly filled with water. On the seat of this boat the boy rested while his feet were drying. By the time he had again put on his shoes and stockings, the sun was fast going down the hills. Already the nighthawks were beginning to wing their way over the meadows with their hungry babies in close pursuit; many tree swallows swung back and forth, taking their evening dips in the waters of the lily pond.

While he was yet a long way from home dusk settled down; the little screech owls came out of their holes in the hollow trees and followed beside him along the railroad track. They kept him company with their quavering owl talk, reminding him of his pet owl at home. Indeed, their tremulous call, like quiet laughter, was such a touch of home to him that he whoo-whooed and laughed in return.

The way now did not seem nearly so long, and the weight of the lotus blossoms swinging over his back by the rope of grass was almost forgotten. He could laugh though his feet were heavy and his shoulders tired, for his heart was light with the success of what he had done.

About nine that night a tired but happy boy stepped into the gleaming lamplight of his home. No need to ask where he had been, for there was but one place where those lilies grew, and the mother's eyes shone brightly as the tired little nature-lover laid the precious lilies in her lap.

NOTES AND QUESTIONS

l. Why did this boy enjoy his walk even though the way was long and hot?

2. What do you think was the most interesting thing the boy saw? Be ready to tell about it in your own words.

3. Why did the boy leave insects in the spiders' webs?

4. Bruce Horsfall has used words that help us greatly to see, hear, and feel; for example,soil oozed, stinging slashes. Make a list of eight other words or groups of words that helped you feel and see.

5. Below are twelve words and phrases. For each word find another word or words in the list that mean the same. When you have finished, you will have six pairs, like this:drowsy—sleepy.

dwindle

tarry

stay longer

walked steadily

deeply interested

grow smaller

distracted

fascinated

shimmered

trembled

trudged

worried

6. In two paragraphs Bruce Horsfall tells of the sights, sounds, and odors the boy experienced. Be ready to read these paragraphs.

7. Find and be ready to read lines that show how this boy loved and understood Nature.