MIDNIGHT ON THE OOZES. 189 



Presently there rings out through the darkness a loud, harsh 

 note — a long-drawn, reverberating bark. That, too, he 

 knows well ; it is the call of the female Sheld-Duck — she, like 

 the Mallard, being far more vociferous than her consort. 

 Sometimes she winds up with half a dozen distinct quacks. 

 The note of the drake is quite different— the peculiar, sibi- 

 lant noise, half-squeak, half-whistle, before alluded to — 

 usually quite low and gentle, but at times sharp and ringing. 

 It is curious that the beak of the Sheld-Duck is tightly closed 

 while the note is being uttered : the bird sometimes appears 

 to be busy feeding at the very moment. Wigeon-drakes, on 

 the other hand, open their beaks wide before commencing 

 their pretty pipe, and close it during the note. Teal ducks 

 quack not unlike Mallard, but lower, moi-e hurriedly, and 

 less defined, and these drakes also have a sibilant note. 

 The young Teal when in packs in autumn keep up a constant 

 low clucking chatter. Scaup appear silent — I never heard 

 them speak — and Golden-eyes rarely, though they have a 

 low, hoarse quack. 



Noisiest of all his noisy race is the Curlew, the official 

 sentinel of the wastes. His lung-power is simply terrific, 

 and the vociferations of half a dozen, suddenly springing 

 from a creek close by, fairly outrage the decencies of night, 

 and spread an alarm for miles. I was amused to-night by 

 overhearing my companion angrily muttering to himself that 

 their conduct was " ^jar/ec/Zi/ scandalous ! " On a still, calm 

 night such as this we could also distinctly hear the croaks 

 and gabbling of the geese, sitting, full two miles away, on 

 the open sea. 



It was nearly 3 a.m. before the rising tide sufficiently 

 covered the flats, and the chance we had awaited arrived, 

 A mile or so beyond the spot where they had been feeding 

 we came upon the now united assemblage of ducks, resting 

 on the water of a sequestered little bay. By their notes we 

 had little difficulty in making out their position, and pre- 

 sently drew up within sight of a fine flotilla under the rays 

 of the moon. This was the critical moment. The slightest 

 noise of man, boat, or gear — let an oar creak, or the setting- 

 pole strike on a stone — and they are gone. No such ill-luck, 



