Wild-Fowl of Wild-Fowl 



was for taking it home. But, in pity for it under 

 the neglect I was sure it would receive, I pushed 

 it out from under his arm, and it escaped to the 

 water. 



It is time now, in the narrative, that we hasten 

 back to the region of Devil's Lake, and describe 

 another visit to "The Enchanted Isles." It was 

 on June 27, late enough in the season for the tar- 

 diest Ducks to have about finished laying their full 

 sets, another beautiful day, when we again landed 

 on what we have called the third island. A cloud 

 of Terns and Ring-bills hovered over it. Hardly 

 had we stepped from the boat when up went a 

 Pintail from the weeds, leaving her six incubated 

 eggs for us to admire. Half a dozen steps more, 

 and away fluttered a Baldpate from her eight fresh 

 creamy-white eggs ; then another of the same spe- 

 cies, a few feet further on, from a set of ten. 

 Each nest was placed under a clump of weeds 

 among the loose rocks. Then, as I retraced my 

 steps towards the boat, a Lesser Scaup flew from 

 the grass a few rods ahead of me. After a little 

 search, I found her set of nine beautiful brown 



eggs. 



Meanwhile my companion was investigating a 

 clump of rose-bushes near by, on the summit of 

 the island. Seeing under them some rubbish with 

 down clinging to it, he poked a stick into it and 

 pulled it apart, unearthing seven great flesh-colored 

 eggs of the White-winged Scoter, a bird that had 

 only recently been suspected of breeding in the 



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