THE DUCK-MOTHERS 89 



This poor pintail was scarce a fitting kodak 

 subject, it seemed, but the owner of the field 

 assured me that not more than half a mile away, 

 a mallard was holding down a claim on another 

 piece of burned ground, and had good eggs in 

 the nest. By following his directions I found 

 her. She had located in the grassy strip be- 

 tween a plowed field and a little willow bluff, not 

 more than ten feet from either, and as in the 

 other case, the fire had burned over the nest. 

 For some reason, the eggs had escaped damage; 

 and the duck having made ample repairs, was 

 bent on staying with the game. I was much 

 struck by the manner in which her color aided her 

 in keeping hidden. Though she was right on the 

 top of a small mound, without a blade of vegeta- 

 tion, other than some charred weed stalks, to 

 screen her, she was not easily seen, even at a dis- 

 tance of a few feet. How she had escaped a 

 visit from her crow neighbors, nesting but fifty 

 yards distant in the willows, was a puzzle. As 

 there was no prospect of getting a picture now, 

 due to its being late in the day, I decided to help 

 her in her one-sided struggle, so got a gun and 

 put most of her black neighbors of the tribe of 

 Caw out of commission. 



