108 BULLETIN 126, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM. 



and heard from a distance is much like the peeping of spring hylas. It also somewhat 

 suggests the piping noise made by a spring flock of evening grosbeaks. 



The green-winged teal is associated on its breeding grounds with 

 various other species of ducks and it flocks with other ducks, par- 

 ticularly the blue-v/inged teal, on its migrations. Still it can hardly 

 be called a sociable species and seems to prefer to travel in large 

 flocks of its own species. In the winter many kinds of ducks fre- 

 quent the favorite breeding grounds together and usually live peace- 

 ably with each other. 



Fall. — The fall migration begins with the first cold weather, often 

 quite early in the season, but the birds linger on the way wherever 

 they can find attractive feeding grounds in the wild rice patches or 

 on cultivated lands; probably the early migrants are wanderers from 

 near-by breeding grounds. The first snowstorms bring along the 

 main late flight and the northern winter has set in before the last of 

 the migrants are driven south by the ice and snow, together with the 

 northern mallards, the last of the surface-feeding ducks. 



Game. — From the sportsman's viewpoint the green-winged teal is 

 an important member of the long list of American wild fowl. Its 

 abundance assures him plenty of sport; its swift flight, with its 

 sudden turnings and rapid twistings, tests his marksmanship to the 

 limit; and its plump little body, fattened on the best of grains, 

 huts, and succulent herbs, provides a dainty morsel for the table. 

 I quote two well-drawn pen pictures of this bird as a hunter sees it. 

 The first, written by the illustrious Audubon (1840) tells of the 

 advent of the first migrants, as follows : 



Nothing can be more pleasing to an American sportsman than the arrival of this 

 beautiful little duck in our Southern or Western States. There, in the month of 

 September, just as tlie sun sinks beneath the horizon, you may find him standing on 

 some mote or embankment of a rice field in Carolina, or a neck of land between two 

 large ponds in Kentucky, his gim loaded with No. 4, and his dog lying at his feet. 

 He sees advancing from afar, at a brisk rate, a small dark cloud, which he has some 

 minutes ago marked and pronounced to be a flock of green-winged teals. Now he 

 squats on his haunches, his dog lies close, and ere another minute has elapsed, right 

 over his head, but too high to be shot at, pass the winged travelers. Some of them 

 rememb(>r the place well, for there they have reposed and fed before. Now they 

 wheel, dash irregularly through the air, sweep in a close body over the watery fields, 

 and in their course pass near the fatal spot where the gunner anxiously awaits. 

 Hark! two shots in rapid succession! The troop is in disorder, and the dog dashes 

 through the water. Here and there lies a teal, with its legs quivering: there, one is 

 whirling round in the agonies of death; some, which are only mnged, quickly and 

 in silence make their way toward a hiding place, while one, with a single pellet in 

 his head, rises perpendicularly with uncertain beats, and falls with a splash on the 

 water. The gunner has charged his tubes, his faithful follower has brought up all 

 the game, and the frightened teals have dressed their ranks, and flying, now high, 

 now low, seem curious to see the place where their companions have been left. 

 Again they fly over the dangerous spot, and again receive the double shower of shot. 

 Were it not that darkness has now set in, the carnage might continue until the 



