WOOD DUCK—SUMMER DUCK. 39 
extreme height, then on her tip-toes, rapidly flits 
her wings to sustain her body, while the sun shines 
warmly and brightly on her, bringing plainly to view 
the golden red and purple of her wings, her dusky head 
shaded with green, the pure white of her dainty throat, 
and the yellow and mottled brown of her body. We 
admire her beauty,—and yet, when we look at her 
mate, as he swims about in the shadow of the trees, 
then emerging into the open and unobstructed light, 
the beauty of the female is made feeble by the compari- 
son. He looks at his mate admiringly, as she sits on 
the log, her bright eyes constantly watching with ma- 
ternal care the young brood at her feet. The male con- 
stantly calls with plaintive cry “ Whee—Whee,” com- 
mencing in a modulated quivering tone, and ending 
about four notes higher, dwelling on and prolonging 
the last note. Such a mellow call it is, so sweet and 
full of solicitude. Its plaintiveness has often reminded 
me of the mournful cry of the turtle dove. 
*““ Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly, 
Most musical, most melancholy.” 
The drake, noticing the handsome coloring on the 
reflected feathers of his quiet mate as she sits so con- 
tentedly in the bright sunshine, while not jealous of his 
spouse, at the same time, thinks he too is clothed in 
gaudy raiment. Suddenly he springs up, and alights 
on the outstretched limb of an old dead tree, whose 
trunk is whitened with age and the action of the ele- 
ments. How strange he seems up so high! resting 
contentedly and at home on the limb. He appears out 
of place, sitting so complacently in the tree, and yet, 
he is doing nothing uncommon, nothing unusual : for 
