AMONG THE WaTeER-FOWL 
wings. At first the poor thing goes pattering and 
Huttering along the surface, often to fall in again, 
exhausted by the effort. Im thisycase) after-aibrrer 
Fest, swimming a little for a start, it may try again, 
orelse give up and dive. “It 1s ‘especially hard for 
it to rise from rough water, with breaking chop. 
One mid-winter day otf Chath yam, Mass., with an 
easterly wind and breaking sea that hurled the fish- 
ing sloop onward, we overhauled a Horned Grebe 
hae made desperate efforts to Hy. Rising, as do all 
water-fowl, toward the wind, it would almost get 
under way when a breaking surge would insultingly 
slap: it inthe face, and knock at backrintomtle 
water. One large wave fairly flung it backward, 
making the poor thing fall all in a heap. With 
great persistency it tried five or six times, when 
the boat had come so close that imminent danger 
compelled it to abandon the fruitless attempt and 
dive. 
Some few of the Horned Grebes, and more of 
the Holboell’s, remain all winter on the New 
England coast, and in the spring visit the ponds 
again, the larger kind as soon as the ice is gone, in 
March. Both of these follow the coast-line in 
autumn in flocks, at the same time as the migratory 
ducks. The first time I ever anchored in a “ coot- 
ing line ’’—off Scituate it was—I soon saw to the 
north a rapidly approaching file of small, white- 
winged fowl. As they passed close to my boat at 
the rate of over a mile a minute, I sent two shots 
singing after them. «One. ‘bird Wetiythesline- sane 
went ricochetting over the water for many a rod. 
Rowing from the mooring to pick it up, I was 
38 
