220 UPON A DAY 



noisy headers, he slips quietly into the water from the 

 stern of his boat, and with a few strokes, just to 

 stretch his limbs, sinks till there is little else but his 

 eyes above the water, and drops down stream. It is 

 an old ruse, and one which the West Indians practise 

 with a view to catching water-fowl. The hunter fits 

 over his head a calabash, and, surrounded by empty, 

 floating gourds, is borne right into the midst of the 

 unsuspecting wildfowl. Gourds or no, this is the way 

 to study the habits of those birds that live where water 

 runs. And now a pair of swans are bringing their 

 brood of five up from the lower reaches, where they 



' have been all night. Stately and slow they come, the 



male bird leading, and the young strung out in a line 

 behind him. The female brings up the rear. Quaint 

 little things are the soft grey cygnets, and when they 

 come to a bit of rapid water, it is funny to see them 

 all turn at exactly the same angle, so as to neutralise 

 the pressure of the stream ; taking it slantingly, as a 

 brewer's horse takes the hill. 



The sand-martins have drilled their tunnels into the 



^''^ ' bank, where it is, from turf to water, not more than 



five feet high. It is an impossibility for even the most 

 practised swimmer to remain absolutely motionless in 

 fresh water for more than a few moments at a time. 



