40 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 
not only does he and his mate alight in trees, but they 
often build their nests in its crotches, and raise their 
young until strong enough to partially care for them- 
selves. It looks odd to see them in trees; about as 
strange and out of place, as would a turkey or chicken 
be swimming in the water. As the drake alights on 
the tree, he settles in the fulllight of the midday sum- 
mer’s sun; the warm winds play through grass and 
trees ; pond-lilies, in snowy whiteness or in yellow bon- 
nets, nod gently in response to the breeze, as it moves 
so quietly over the rippling water, carrying to the se- 
creted hunter delicate and sensuous perfumes. The 
drake gazes intently in the distance, as if his sharp eyes 
could penetrate woods and fields, and furtively looks 
around, as if anticipating the approach of an enemy. 
He sees nothing to alarm him, hears nothing but the 
faint tinkle of a bell, emitting its irregular and not un- 
musical sound as the bell-cow walks slowly along, graz- 
ing on the bottom-grass. He bends his head gracefully, 
and looks down on his mate and their progeny. Each 
turn of his head, every movement of his body, discloses 
some new brilliancy of plumage, and he appears like a 
tropical bird, strayed from palmettoes and fig-trees, and 
lost amid the woods of the North. Itseems to us that 
such as he would feel lost, ina climate like ours, even in 
midsummer, for never in Northern woods has his equal 
in beauty been seen. Looking at himas he sits there, we 
wonder if he really knows how exceedingly handsome 
he is; his clean-cut head, making a perfect outline 
against the blue sky ; his bright, sparkling eyes enclosed 
with lids of deepest carmine; the long tuft descending 
from the back of his head, and floating in a graceful 
plume down his neck; the upper part of his head be- 
