LIFE HISTORIES OF NORTH AMERICAN WILD FOWL. 167 



The wood duck's animal food, which amounted to !).81 per cent of the total con- 

 eieted chiefly of the following items: Dragon flies and damsel flies and their nymphs, 

 2.54 per cent; bugs, 1.56; beetles, 1.02; grasshoppers and crickets, 0.23; flies and 

 ants, bees, and wasps, 0.07; miscellaneous insects, 0.97; spiders and mites, 0.63; 

 crustaceans, 0.08; and miscellaneous animal matter, 2.71 per cent. Thus, nearly 

 two-thirds of the animal food consisted of insects. 



Behavior. — No duck is so expert as the wood duck in threading^ its 

 way through the interlacing branches of the forest, at which its skill 

 has been compared with that of the passenger pigeon. I have stood 

 on the shore of a woodland pond in the darkening twilight of a sum- 

 mer evening and watched these ducks come in to roost; on swift and 

 silent wings they would glide like meteors through the tree tops, 

 tw"isting, turning, and dodging, until it was almost too dark for me 

 to see them. Ordinarily its flight is swift and direct, usually high in 

 the air. The short neck and white breast are good field marks for 

 the female and the color pattern of the male is conspicuous at a long 

 distance; it is said to resemble the baldpate in flight. When migrat- 

 ing it flies in small flocks, probably family parties. 



The wood duck is a swift and agile swimmer and can dive if neces- 

 sary. Audubon (1840) says of its movements: 



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 immediately 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 30 or 40 

 of these birds perched on a single sycamore on the bank of a secluded bayou, I have 

 conceived the sight as pleasing as any that I have ever enjoyed. They always 

 reminded me of the Muscovy duck, of which they look as if a highly finished and 

 flattering miniature. They frequently prefer walking on an inclined log or the fallen 

 tnink of a tree, one end of which lies in the water, while the other rests on the steep 

 bank, to betaking themselves to flight at the sight of an approaching enemy. In this 

 manner I have seen a whole flock walk from the water into the woods, as a steamer 

 was approaching them in the eddies of the Ohio or Mississippi. They swim and 

 dive well, when wounded and closely pursued, often stopping at the edge of tlie 

 water with nothing above it but the bill, but at other times running to a considerable 

 distance into the woods, or hiding in a canebrake beside a log. In sucli places I 

 have often found them, having been led to their place of concealment by my dog. 

 "When frightened, they rise by a single spring from the water, and are as apt to make 

 directly for the woods as to follow the stream. When they discover an enemy while 

 under the covert of shrubs or other plants on a pond, instead of taking to wing, they 

 swim off in silence among the thickest weeds, so as generally to elude your search 

 by landing and running over a narrow piece of ground to another pond. In autumn, 

 a whole covey may often be seen standing or sitting on a floating log, pluming and 

 cleaning themselves for hours. On such occasions the knowing sportsman commits 

 great havoc among them, killing half a dozen or more at a shot. 



Mr. P. A. Taverner has contributed the following on the notes of 

 a captive bird: 



Its only notes seem to be little whistles. One of its most peculiar notes is uttered 

 when it is disturbed and consists of a series of little chick, chick, chick's low and hardly 

 discernible at a distance of 30 feet. Accompanying these little monosyllables is a 

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