234 THE PROCESSION OF SPRING 



unweariedly as he for bits of weed. As he rises to the 

 top he picks off the small crustaceans hidden in the 

 leaves, snaps off the young shoot of the weed, and then 

 he dives again. If at that instant you run forward at 

 your best speed some dozen yards or so, and then 

 again stay quiet as a stone, the bird on rising continues 

 unsuspecting its pursuit. But move never so little, 

 and like a flash it disappears, and, in a succession of 

 rapid dives, soon is far away. There are divers and 

 divers. The dabchick dives quite noiselessly, and that 

 is the test of a true diver. By this you may know that 

 it is accustomed to seek its food near the bottom and 

 in deep water. Some birds dive chiefly for purposes 

 of concealment. and some for purposes of play. These 

 last are clumsiest of all. Thus, the waterhen dives 

 neatly but not noiselessly, the tame duck very clumsily 

 and with much flapping of wings. 



There surely never seemed so uncomfortable a nest 

 as that of the dabchick. The guillemot who guards 

 its single egg on the ledges of a wind-swept precipice 

 is, one might suppose, cosily circumstanced by com- 

 parison. The nest itself is in not on the water, so that 

 the dabchick almost sits in water as it sits upon its 

 eggs. And whenever the bird leaves its nest it covers 

 up its eggs with wet weed, and the eggs, white at first, 



