THE PIED-BILLED GREBE. 891 
The trouble began when we were boys. We had been entrusted with 
our first gun, a re-bored army carbine, and we were intent on slaughter. 
We saw a duck on a pond and we tremulously pulled trigger. The landscape 
was suddenly blotted out and when we returned to consciousness there was 
no duck in sight, nor shattered remains, nor feathers. What did it mean! 
We knew we had not missed. Nothing could have withstood that blinding 
assault and at such close range. So we returned bruised in spirit, and the 
Taken on Brook Lake. Photo by the Author, 
NEST AND EGGS OF THE PIED-BILLED GREBE. 
neighbor boys told us with great glee that we had shot at (mark the prepo- 
sition) a “‘hell-diver.” We are not profane, but we draw a fierce satisfaction 
from the appellation, and we cherish our wrath against a creature which 
is so inconsiderate as to avoid the flash of a gun at twenty yards. 
More recently we have been trying to study the Grebe’s nesting habits 
and have made overtures, sometimes friendly, sometimes frantic; but still the 
wily water-witch cultivates retiracy and will not be limed or limned, save as a 
paludicoline pest whose specialty is alibis. 
