522 The Water-fowl Family 



the coast, now dotting the blue sky and then the 

 blue sea as they rise or fall, is one of the sights 

 that stir the strongest fever in the blood of him 

 who yearns for the coming of autumn. For it is 

 long before the silvery honk of the goose begins 

 to fall from the sky, or ever the sand-hill crane 

 rolls his trumpet notes from the blue vault above 

 him. You can then shoot the sprigtail in goodly 

 numbers when there is no other duck flying, 

 unless the few that have bred here. Again in 

 the spring you may find him lingering around 

 some little pond hidden in the timber, or in some 

 larger one from which he can waddle with ease 

 out upon the rich grass, for days after the snowy 

 side of the canvas-back has ceased to shine on 

 the lagoon and days after the glistening green of 

 the mallard's head has vanished in the northern 

 sky. 



In the meantime the sprigtail leads somewhat 

 of a humdrum existence, associating with all 

 other ducks after they come, sitting about on the 

 still face of the waters, enjoying the winter sun as 

 much as any tourist in the city park. He does very 

 little muddling or diving, most of his feeding being 

 at night on grass or grain. But on freshly irrigated 

 ground he will do a full day's work of feeding and 

 muddling as well as the rest of his friends. Ex- 

 cept during the first days of his arrival he makes 

 no shooting any different from the rest of the 



