THE BALD-PATE DUCK. 



1 There seem to be as many 

 Ducks as there are Owls," re- 

 marks Bobbie. " This fellow is 

 called Bald-pate, but he's not 

 bare on top of his head like 

 Gran'pa, at all." 



" No, his head is feathered as 

 well as any Duck's head," 

 replies mamma. ' I remember 

 hearing him called the Widgeon, 

 I think." 



1 Yes, that's what it says here, 

 the American Widgeon, a game 

 bird, you know, mamma." 



1 Yes, its flesh is very delic- 

 ious, almost as good as the 

 Canvas-back." 



" Oh, but these Bald-pates are 

 cunning fellows," exclaims Bob- 

 bie, continuing his reading, " It 

 says they are fond of a certain 

 grass plant which grows deep in 

 both salt and fresh water, but 

 they don't dive for it as the 

 Canvas-back and other deep 

 water Ducks do." 



'Well?" says mamma, as 

 Bobbie stops, his lips moving, 

 but uttering no sound. 



u I stopped to spell a word," 

 explains Bobbie. u It says they 

 closely follow and watch the 

 Canvas-back and other Ducks, 

 and when they rise to the sur- 

 face of the water with the roots 

 of the plant in their bills, Mr. 

 Bald-pate quickly snatches a 

 part, or all of the catch, and 



hurries off to eat it at his 

 leisure." 



"A mean fellow, indeed," re- 

 marks mamma, " but he has no 

 reason to guide him, as you 

 have, you know." 



>l Indeed I dorit know," quickly 

 says Bobbie. " You remember 

 that story about the imprisoned 

 Duck that had its leg broken 

 and was put under a small crate, 

 or coop, to keep it from running 

 about? Well, some of the other 

 Ducks pitied the little prisoner 

 and tried to release him by forc- 

 ing their necks under the crate 

 and thus lifting it up. They 

 found they weren't strong enough 

 to do that, and so they quacked, 

 and quacked, and quacked among 

 themselves, then marched away 

 in a body. Soon they came back 

 with forty ducks, every one in 

 the farm yard. They sur- 

 rounded the crate and tried to 

 lift it as before, but again they 

 failed. Then they quacked some 

 more, and after a long talk the 

 whole of them went to one side 

 of the crate. As many as could 

 thrust their necks underneath it, 

 and the rest pushed them for- 

 ward from behind. A good 

 push, a strong push, up went the 

 crate a little way, and out wad- 

 dled the little prisoner. I want 

 to know if they didn't reason 

 that out, mamma? " 



