2 BREEDING SEASONS. 



I found a nest of a kind I had long sought in vain, the whistling teal 

 (Dendrocygna arcuatd). These curious little ducks perch in trees and lay 

 their eggs in nests made of sticks and twigs in trees. The nest was in a 

 babul tree, at the edge of a large swamp, about ten feet from the ground ; 

 and standing on a bank close by, I could see both parent birds seated side 

 by side on the nest, with their little heads laid lovingly together, and 

 their soft eyes watching me with no signs of dread. A severe mental 

 struggle followed. My desire to get the eggs turned the scale, and 

 I determined on shooting both the parent birds so as to leave no desolate 

 mourner. I startled them from the nest, and as they flew off, fired right 

 and left, killed the drake, but alas missed the duck. The deed was done, 

 and there was nothing left but to take the egg which I did with a sad- 

 dened heart and walked on to my camp three miles distant. All that day 

 the memory of the poor little solitary duck haunted me. I could not get 

 it out of my mind, and the next morning I determined to return to the 

 spot, though it took me six miles out of my way, and put an end to the 

 misery of the unhappy survivor by shooting her. On reaching the place, 

 there I found her, seated on her empty nest, the scene of the previous 

 day's calamity, seated indeed, but not alone, she was accompanied, and no 

 doubt successfully cheered by another drake that had already aspired to 

 the place in her affections vacated by her unfortunate partner only the 

 day before. In this case the nest contained only a single egg which was 

 quite fresh, the usual number laid for hatching being from seven to ten. 



The behaviour is, however, very different when the little family 

 arrangements are further developed. I once found the nest of a golden- 

 crested wren, with eight eggs in it. The eggs were new to me at the time, 

 and as I was anxious to find out accurately to what bird they belonged, I 

 set a snare by the nest, and in a few minutes caught and killed the hen 

 bird, and then taking the nest I sat down to pack it, and the eggs and the 

 little bird to convey them safely away. While I was engaged on this, 

 the cock bird appeared and soon perceived the disaster that had happened 

 to his home, his plaintive chirping was most piteous to hear, and I hur- 

 riedly moved away, but there was no escaping, the poor little 

 thing followed me incessantly, keeping pace with me and flitting 

 from tree to tree, till passing out of the pine wood I got into 

 open-treeless ground, and there, unable to trust his frail little wings to 

 the long flight, and fearing to alight on the open common, he fell back, 

 and to my great relief his cries of woe were soon lost to hearing. The 

 eggs were so hard set in this case that I was unable to preserve even one 



