JUNE 129 



when hatched, though the duck is one of the best of 

 mothers. It is a pretty sight to watch her in some 

 shallow bay, floating quietly with that look of ineffable 

 content which all the duck tribe have more or less, 

 while the young brood dart around in all directions 

 after flies. Often, during May and June, the angler, 

 stalking a rising trout, is balked by a mother duck, 

 scrambling, a pretended cripple at his feet, and splashing 

 away right over his chosen cast, while the ducklings 

 quickly thread their way to safety among the flags. 

 But from mid- June the mallard may be seen no more 

 till autumn. His beautiful green head and neck are 

 disfigured, partially by a special summer moult ex- 

 tending to nearly all parts of the body and impairing 

 or actually suspending his power of flight, and partially 

 by discoloration of the old feathers. Henceforward, 

 indistinguishable in plumage from the duck, he will 

 skulk about in secret places till, early in October, the 

 autumn moult begins to restore his beauty and vigour, 

 and he becomes again one of the most conspicuous of 

 our wild birds. It is curious how many people, with 

 ample opportunities of becoming familiar with nature, 

 have overlooked this summer masquerade of the wild 

 duck, which is the more remarkable because the 

 domestic duck, undoubtedly descended from the 

 mallard, undergoes no such seasonal change. This 

 summer disguise of a brilliant bird reminds one of 

 the observance of the ancient Aztec nobles, who were 

 compelled to conceal their gay dresses under robes of 

 sackcloth before entering the presence of Montezuma. 



