CHAPTER XXVII. 



NOTES ON THE WOOD-DUCK. 



WANDERING along the weedy, tangled margin of a 

 quiet inland creek, where giant elms and scarcely smaller 

 maples throw sombre shadows at evening and deepen the 

 gloom, I saw moving slowly before me a pretty wood- 

 duck that gave me but a moment to look ere it disap- 

 peared, not by flight but by diving, and as it passed out 

 of sight, here and there on the still waters suddenly 

 moved and then likewise disappeared, one after another, 

 several hitherto-unnoticed ducklings. I had no opportu- 

 nity then to watch them further. 



On my way home, however, I fell to thinking, and 

 wondered, considering that wood-ducks built their nests 

 in trees, how it was that they got their young to the 

 water, oftentimes nearly a mile away. It was the month 

 of June, and I purposed solving this question if it should 

 happen to be my good luck to find a still occupied nest. 

 Day after day I searched every probable and possible 

 nesting-place, and finally, where I scarcely hoped for any 

 trace of ducks or even wood-peckers, in an old decayed 

 apple-tree I found a nest with young birds that were just 

 hatched. How I rejoiced over my discovery ! and know- 

 ing not how soon the old birds might remove the young, 

 I sought for a safe retreat from which I might watch the 

 tree and its occupants ; and while the day lasted I held 

 my place, but no ducks came near the brood. I wondered 



