86 OUR HUMBLE HELPERS 



a slender pair of pincers that snaps up seeds and ker- 

 nels one by one? Comparison is impossible. Do 

 we see there a tool working in the manner of the 

 heron 's pointed probe? Still less. Shall we make 

 it the equivalent of the bloody hooked beak of the 

 bird of prey 1 No one would dream of such a thing, 

 so great is the difference. But one sees at once in 

 this wide, rounded beak a spoon shaped expressly for 

 scooping up food from the water, just as our table- 

 spoons enable us to take out pieces of bread or lumps 

 of rice swimming in a thin soup. The duck dabbles, 

 then: it dips up water in large spoonfuls that is 

 to say, in beakfuls and seeks its food therein. It is 

 a soup of the thinnest sort and, in itself, of no nu- 

 tritive value. Consequently the liquid that fills the 

 bird's mandible must be rejected, but at the same 

 time it must be drained out in such a manner as to 

 leave behind what little* alimentary matter it may 

 contain. For this purpose the edges of the beak are 

 fringed with a row of thin, short blades which let the 

 liquid run out when the bird has once filled its 

 mouth. " 



"That 's an ingenious way to eat," remarked 

 Jules. "In order to snap up what it takes a fancy 

 to, perhaps a tadpole, or a little water shell, or a 

 worm, the duck is obliged to fill its beak with water. 

 To swallow the whole mouthful without sorting 

 would simply stuff the crop with a useless liquid. 

 What does the bird do? It closes the beak, and the 

 water, driven back, runs out through the fringed 

 edges as if through a grating. The tadpole alone re- 



