48 NOTES ON NEW ENGLAND BIRDS 



I see almost him alone. Their wings set so far back. 

 They are not handsome, but wild. 



March 18, 1855. Meanwhile a small dark-colored 

 duck, all neck and wings, a winged rolling-pin, went 

 over, — perhaps a teal. 



March 27, 1855. The ducks sleep these nights in the 

 shallowest water which does not freeze, and there may 

 be found early in the morning. I think that they prefer 

 that part of the shore which is permanently covered. 



April 22, 1856. I raised my sail and, cowering under 

 my umbrella in the stern, wearing the umbrella like a 

 cap and holding the handle between my knees, I steered 

 and paddled, almost perfectly sheltered from the heavy 

 rain. Yet my legs and arms were a little exposed some- 

 times, in my endeavors to keep well to windward so as 

 to double certain capes ahead. For the wind occasion- 

 ally drove me on to the western shore. From time to 

 time, from under my umbrella, I could see the ducks 

 spinning away before me, like great bees. For when 

 they are flying low directly from you, you see hardly 

 anything but their vanishing dark bodies, while the 

 rapidly moving wings or paddles, seen edgewise, are 

 almost invisible. 



Oct. 22, 1857. As I go through the woods now, 

 so many oak and other leaves have fallen the rustling 

 noise somewhat disturbs my musing. However, Nature 

 in this may have intended some kindness to the ducks, 

 which are now loitering hereabouts on their migration 

 southward, mostly young and inexperienced birds, for, 

 as they are feeding in Goose Pond, for instance, the 

 rustling of the leaves betrays the approach of the sports- 



