THE RED-BREASTED MERGANSER. 761 
surface of the water to get a running start, and then with outstretched neck 
and supple wing skim along close to the water, as tho loth to leave its friendly 
shelter. Many a time have I seen them in the swiftest part of some rushing 
stream, repeatedly breasting the current with tireless energy for the sake of 
being swept along some favorite riffle under water, adding thus the momentum 
of the stream to their own power of locomotion in enabling them to seize 
quickly unsuspecting trout. 
The young birds swim from the shell, but are nearly full grown before 
they can fly. A troop of half-grown young under the care of the mother 
bird affords an interesting study, and not infrequently provokes some novice 
to make the exertion of his life at the oars. At this time there is scarcely 
more than a trace of muscular tissue on the breast of the youngsters, but the 
swimming gear, the legs and hinder portions, is fully developed, so that in 
motion the birds look curiously like long-necked water bottles. If pursued ina 
boat the brood keeps well together, each bird leaning forward, almost standing 
on the water, and keeping up a motion like a tiny stern-wheeler, the whole 
flock leaving a wake behind them not unlike that of a small steamer. ‘The 
anxious mother directs the flight, now dropping into the water to urge the 
chicks to greater exertions, now flying back to distract the attention of the 
pursuers, or to develop some ruse to cover the escape. Once when a party 
of us were pursuing a brood in this manner along the rocky shore of Lake 
Chelan, the mother bird hit upon a very clever scheme. When the flock was 
becoming winded and we would head in toward them, she would fly between us 
and the shore, pretending to lead the flock back down the lake. At first we bit 
eagerly, and pressed in between her and the flock, intent on cutting off the 
retreat, only to find upon looking about that the cunning mother had made a 
wide circuit around us and was urging her brood up the lake again at a head- 
long speed. Finally, when thoroly tired out, after a three mile chase, the 
ducklings took to shore and hid successfully in the loose rubble of the beach 
without the aid of a scrap of vegetation, and near water so clear that a move- 
ment could have been detected at a depth of a hundred and fifty feet. 
Not content with this baffling experience I tried again, and single-handed, 
ten years later, when a female Merganser with a dozen ducklings—mere 
down-balls, not over two days old—was sighted in the same waters. It looked 
so easy, and the photograph was to have graced this very page. Mother Red- 
breast had begun to cackle apprehensively before she knew herself discovered. 
When the battle was on she played for open water, but I headed off the retreat, 
being possibly a little better at the oars than the infants at the paddles on a 
straightaway course. Twice the mother bird played dead, but usually she 
kept close to the chicks and only urged the extreme onpaddling flight when 
necessary. At plain swimming the birds were poor, but at fluttering over the 
water they certainly were great, for babies. Finally I did succeed in separat- 
