806 THE OLD-SQUAW. 
IF you are able to disregard the peevish dabs of cold rain which the north 
wind flings in your face as you trudge to and fro on the for’ard deck of the 
struggling steamer, you will see a stirring sight,—an endless procession of 
waterfowl of a dozen species hurrying southward. The time may be late 
October, when only the timid fly south, or it may be early January, when even 
the most hardy gracefully own defeat and come scampering down before the 
compelling blasts. The place would better be Georgia Strait, or say, Hale 
Passage, between Lummi Island and the mainland. Here the “Ice Ducks” 
revel in the open water, and here they rise before the plodding steamboat, 
passing and repassing the bows in long melodious lines, or dashing off hotly 
to less disturbed areas. 
Tho his flight be graceful and strong, it is as a musician that the Long- 
tailed Duck enjoys preeminence. Of course the interpretation of music 
depends on both the culture and the mood of the listener. Fisher-folk, weary 
of their incessant racket, have called our birds Scolders, Aunt Huldys, Old- 
squaws, and other unpleasant things; but we bird-people are apt to bend an 
indulgent ear toward the efforts of our favorites, and especially in quarters 
where merit is unexpected and rare. Sundevall, the Swedish (?) naturalist, 
called the bird the singing duck, “because its spring song is both sweet and 
sonorous.” The birds are eminently sociable, and a company of twenty indi- 
viduals aroused to utterance at the same time will raise a chorus which may be 
heard a mile away. The notes are mellow and resonant, but it may be con- 
ceded that they have something of a grumbling quality. O/nk)h-o(nk)h-leh, 
o(nk)h-o(nk)h-leh, o(nk)h-o(nk)h-leh may afford a suggestion of the 
trumpeting of a single individual; but when all are at it’at once the effect is 
indescribably enhanced. 
Says Mr. E. W. Nelson: “During all the spring season until the young 
begin to hatch the males have a rich musical note, frequently repeated in deep, 
reed-like tones. Amid the general hoarse chorus of waterfowl which is heard 
at this season, the notes of the Old-Squaw are so harmonious that the fur 
traders of the upper Yukon have christened him the Organ Duck, a well- 
merited name. I have frequently stopped and listened with deep pleasure to 
these harmonious tones, while traversing the broad marshes in the dim twi- 
light at midnight, and while passing a lonely month on the dreary banks of the 
Yukon delta I lay in my blankets many hours at night and listened to these 
rhythmical sounds which with few exceptions were the only ones to break the 
silence.” 
These notes, however, are not at all confined to the spring of the year, 
for they are used to express uneasiness at the presence of the hunter as readily 
as ardor in love. If one has hostile intentions it is easy to single out a chorus 
and row toward it, even tho the birds are unseen. When seated upon the 
water these birds exhibit much white, and under certain weather conditions 
