7.^ 



Bird- Lore 



was sliallow, and where reedy bogs lay 

 scattered about. As it grew darker, we lay 

 in camp listening to the rush of wings as 

 the night-comers flocked in to their rest- 

 ing-plai'cs. At first there was a faint whirr 

 of wings, whii li increased to a loud swish 

 as the band passed. Then from out on the 

 water would come the light flapping and 

 the quack, quack, as the flock settled for 

 the night. 



In the gray light oi morning I awoke to 

 find a pair of Cinnamon Teals making love 

 not twenty feet away. We had camped 

 within a few feet of their nest. Searching 

 about in a patch of grass, perhaps an acre 

 or so in extent, we discovered seven nests 

 of Cinnamon Teals and of Pintailed Ducks. 



The following morning I saw an old 

 Mallard with four young, swimming about 

 thirty feet away. The ducklings were 

 diving and playing, while the mother was 

 quacking low words of caution and en- 

 couragement. They were quite unaware 

 of our presence. A young duck dives with 

 an enthusiasm that is amusing. He puts 

 his whole soul into it. He jumps up, turns 

 on end, and disappears with his tail and 

 toes sticking straight in the air. 



TELEPHOTO VIEW OF FEMALE PINTAIL 



MOTHER PINTAIL ON NEST 



.Several times we came suddenly on an 

 old duck with her family, swimming in 

 the shallow water. Each time the mother 

 would flap along like a wounded bird, try- 

 ing to lead us off, while the young were 

 under water in an instant, and scattering 

 in all directions to hide. Even where the 

 water was shallow it was almost impossible 

 to catch a glimpse of the young after they 

 had separated. 



Hy good luck we caught a baby duck 

 one day, and being anxious to photograph 

 him, took him over to a shallow place. The 

 plan was to set him gently on the surface, 

 and snap his picture before he moved. The 

 camera-man speeded the shutter to one- 

 six-hundredth part of a second, and said 

 'ready!" The instant the toes of that 

 duckling struck water it was gone. The 

 camera-man snapped, but did not even 

 get the record of a tail. The duckling 

 seemed to disappear by some underground 

 channel. Under water a duckling goes like 

 a streak. He looks much more like a frog 

 than a bird. His downy coat lies tight to 

 his body, and he flashes through the water 

 using both wings and feet. 



We rounded a bend in the river one day, 



