782 THE SHOVELLER. 
men. Their most striking characteristic from the hunter's standpoint is curi- 
osity—this and artless innocence. If there is anything unusual going on in the 
swamp, the Shoveller wants to see. It is, therefore, the easiest of birds to 
decoy. Once when Mr. Bowles’s dog was retrieving a duck in open water, a 
drake Shoveller came flying up, noted something interesting, and settled 
promptly within a foot of dog and bird. However, if frightened, or on a 
flyway, it requires a good shot to bring a Shoveller to bag, as it is almost as 
swift awing as any of the teals. 
The plumage of this duck is very handsome, and some of its features are 
of special interest to the bird-student. Thus the markings of the drake com- 
bine in a striking degree the essential characters of both the Mallard and the 
Blue-winged Teal. Its head is of iridescent green, its lowerparts are chestnut, 
and its feet red,—all characteristic of the male Mallard—while its wing is 
practically an enlarged edition of the drake Blue-wing. The bird’s eye, more- 
over, is golden, like that of the genus Clangula, and in its striped scapulars as 
well as in the pattern of coloration on flanks and tail-coverts the bird recalls the 
lordly Pintail. 
The nesting of the Shoveller is not differentiated from that of a half 
dozen other river ducks, which resort to lowland meadows and weedy areas 
adjacent to swamps. ‘Ten or eleven eggs, buffy as to hue, with a greenish cast, 
are placed in a grass-lined depression on the ground; and when the set nears 
completion an abundance of dark down is provided, both to retain the parental 
warmth, and to screen the eggs from observation in the owner's absence. One 
curious fact came to light in the course of last season’s nesting; namely, the 
dependence of the ducks upon the presence of Meadowlarks. We found that 
the close proximity of these two very diverse species was no chance coinci- 
dence, but a very practical rule, insomuch that whenever, in dragging, we 
flushed a Meadowlark, we said, “*‘Now look for the duck’s nest.” Once, before 
we had discovered this rule, we put up a Shoveller from two eggs and marked 
the spot with a bit of string tied to a neighboring weed. Returning four days 
later and dropping carefully to my knees before the string-tied cluster, I 
stretched out my hand to part the thick grasses. From exactly beneath the 
hand, with a yip of terror, flew a Meadowlark from six eggs. Talk of the con- 
tinuity of Nature! Here was a manifest exception. Six eggs I had expected, 
but not Meadowlarks’. What pixie of the meadows had been tricking me? It 
was not till the day following that I returned with renewed courage to resolve 
the riddle. The Shoveller’s eggs, now cleverly concealed by down, were just 
twelve inches away from those of the Meadowlark. — Evidently, the Duck seeks 
association with the Lark; this not so much with a view to congenial company, 
as in order that she may be warned of the approach of danger. Perhaps it is 
the male Lark whose advice she plans to follow, in view of the fact that her 
natural protector, the gay drake, will desert as soon as she begins to brood. 
