LONG-TAILED DUCK. 391 



have seen as many as thirty approaching the land like unquiet 

 spirits, flitting past again and again, and calling in clear bugle-like 

 strains, as if telling of the coming storm. Many years ago, during 

 my ornithological studies at Dunbar, in East Lothian, these lively 

 birds were my daily delight as I stood on the ruined heights of 

 the old castle watching their playful movements on the water. On 

 many occasions, when the waves were not actually breaking on the 

 rocky foundations, the ducks would come right up to the ruins and 

 pitch down on the heaving volumes of water, where, after diving, 

 they could be distinctly seen browsing on the small shells adhering 

 to the long ribbon-shaped seaweed growing at the bottom. Another 

 favourite feeding place of the same flock, which on some days num- 

 bered as many as twenty-two, was at the back of the harbour pier, 

 about one hundred and fifty yards distant from the castle. One 

 day, when stationed in a convenient look-out behind the parapet, I 

 noticed eighteen Long-tailed Ducks feeding quite close to the mason 

 work of the pier, and was somewhat surprised to see one of their 

 number, a male, always on the surface. As I had previously 

 considered that, in the event of sudden intrusion or appearance of 

 danger, it would be difficult indeed for the sentry to communicate 

 with his submerged comrades, I kept a strict watch until the 

 whole flock were under water except himself. Immediately on 

 showing myself and making a noise I was only about thirty feet 

 above him the bird, instead of flying off, as another duck would 

 probably have done, instantly dived. What he did or said could 

 not of course be observed; but in a few moments the entire flock 

 came up and flew squattering along the surface until they got on 

 wing, after which they alighted abruptly about a hundred yards 

 out, each bird turning round to have a look at the cause of the 

 disturbance. They then joined in a general chorus of their famous 

 song, which in this instance might be interpreted as a congratu- 

 latory chuckle over their escape. Next time I went to this post 

 of observation I found my feathered friends again riding 

 at their ease on some heavy breakers outside the battery. 

 They soon commenced feeding, and remained a considerable 

 time under water. Being anxious to make some further 

 notes on the nature of their food, I waited for a shot at a 

 fine male which is now before me, and knowing the ground to be 

 rocky and covered with seaweed, I was prepared to find the bird's 

 stomach filled with shells. All the stomachs of the Long-tailed 



