74 HISTORY OF THE 



Wood Duck almost alone remains on the pool, as if to afford us 

 an opportunity to study the habits of his tribe. Here they are, 

 a whole flock of beautiful birds; the males chasing their rivals, 

 the females coquetting with their chosen beaux. Observe that 

 fine drake ! how gracefully he raises his head and curves his 

 neck. As he bows before the object of his love he raises, for 

 a moment, his silken crest. His throat is swelled and from it 

 there issues a guttural sound, which to his beloved is as sweet 

 as the song of the Wood Thrush to its gentle mate. The fe- 

 male, as if not unwilling to manifest the desire to please which 

 she feels, swims close by his side and now and then caresses 

 him by touching his feathers with her bill, and shows displeas- 

 ure towards any other of her sex that may come near. Soon 

 the happy pair separate from the rest, repeat every now and 

 then their caresses, and at length, having sealed the conjugal 

 compact, fly off to the woods to search for a large Woodpeck- 

 er's hole. Occasionally the males fight with each other, but 

 their combats are not of long duration nor is the field ever 

 stained with blood, the loss of a few feathers or a sharp tug of 

 the head being generally enough to decide the contest. Al- 

 though the Wood Ducks always form their nests in the hollow 

 of a tree their caresses are performed exclusively on the water, 

 to which they resort for that purpose, even when their loves 

 have been first proved far above tlie ground on a branch of 

 some tall sycamore. While the female is depositing her eggs 

 the male is seen to fly swiftly past the hole in which she is hid- 

 den, erecting his crest and sending forth his love notes, to 

 which she never fails to respond. On the ground the Wood 

 Duck runs nimbly and with more grace than most other birds 

 of its tribe. On reaching the shore of a pond or stream, it im- 

 mediately shakes its tail sidewise, looks around, and proceeds 

 in search of food. It moves on the larger branches of trees 

 with the same apparent ease; and, while looking at thirty or 

 forty of these birds perched on a single sycamore on the bank 

 of a secluded bayou, I have conceived the sight as beautiful 

 as any that I ever enjoyed. They always remind me of the 

 Muscovy Duck, of which they look as if a higldy finished and 



