The Morass
Cattle have trampled the banks of the stream until they are com- pletely brpken down and, once past the pool where the cows are in the habit of standing, swishing their tails at the flies, the water spreads out and flows through the soft earth making a morass where water- plants grow in abundance. The leaves of marshmallow cluster on a little mound, and on an island of stones where remains a spadeful of earth a large well-fed dock stands. After rain the air 'is filled with the smell of garlic. Along the rivulets one finds miniature pools that are haunted by water spiders. In the shelter of half-submerged stones the caddis is seen and a few freshwater shrimps propel them- selves about the gritty bed with their curiously crippled motion. The wagtail flips from one spot to another and little chains of insects mount into the air and tumble endlessly above the running water. The place belongs to the wilderness, and although it has its beauty, It shocks my sense of orderliness and dismays me when I think of land and water going to waste, although this piece of ground is no more than a hundred yards long and twenty wide.
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