218 REPTILES AND BIRDS. 
leave the shell; and their mother soon leads them down to the water, 
encouraging them by her example to enter it. They do not return 
to the nest. At night their mother covers them under her wings, and 
at first feeds them with the small flies that come within her reach. 
The ducklings, although they soon learn to swim, are unable to 
fly till after the expiration of three months; after that lapse of time 
wing-feathers are developed sufficiently to enable them to use their 
pinions. But they are always alert and active on the water, diving 
and remaining under it for many minutes, sometimes with nothing 
but the bill above the surface. When danger approaches, the mother 
utters a peculiar cry, and the young ones immediately conceal them- 
selves. In a ditch full of water, Mr. McGillivray once came upon a 
whole brood of half-grown ducklings, which disappeared in a moment ; 
and although he searched everywhere for them, he did not succeed 
in finding a single one. When the Duck perceives the Great Black- 
backed Gull, an enemy of her race, she beats the water with her wings 
as if to attract the attention of the aggressor; on his approach she 
darts at him with so much vigour that she frequently compels him to 
retreat. 
Audubon relates a remarkable instance of maternal affection in 
this bird. The American naturalist had found in the woods a female 
of this species at the head of her young brood. As he approached, 
he noticed that her feathers became erect, and that she hissed with a 
threatening gesture, after the manner of geese. In the meantime 
the ducklings made off in all directions. His dog, which was per- 
fectly trained, brought the little creatures to him, one by one, without 
doing them the least injury. But in all his proceedings he was 
watched by the mother, who kept passing and re-passing in front of 
him, as if to distract his attention. When the ducklings were all 
safe in the game-bag, in which they struggled and cried out, the 
mother came with a sad and troubled air, and placed herself close to 
the naturalist, as if unable to suppress her despair. Audubon, seeing 
her intense grief, was filled with pity, and restored her little family 
before leaving the spot. ‘When I turned round to watch her,” adds 
he, “I really fancied I could detect an expression of gratitude in 
her eyes ; and I experienced at that moment one of the most vivid 
sensations of pleasure I have ever enjoyed.” 
Whilst the mother is devoting herself to the education of her 
brood, the father pays but little attention to his progeny. Jaded and 
thin, he lives a solitary and quiescent life, more sad and wild than 
ever. He has, in fact, to submit to a most sudden course of moulting. 
The female also loses her plumage after the young ones are hatched. 
