Another of the tundra-loving waders, the pectoral sandpiper, in- 

 flates the loose skin of its throat and breast into a balloon-shaped bag, 

 and runs to and fro in front of the female while he utters a low, 

 musical, booming note; or he will fly up twenty or thirty yards into 

 the air and then float down on up-raised wings, sounding the same 

 note. 



The little pools scattered abundantly over the tundra are fre- 

 quented in spring and summer by northern phalaropes, pretty, 

 graceful members of a family of small waders remarkable for revers- 

 ing, during the mating-season, all ordinary avian habits and cus- 

 toms. The female is larger and much more handsomely colored 

 than the male, and pays court to him in order to secure a mate, just 

 as does the male among other birds. As the season comes on when 

 the flames of bird-love mount high, the dully colored male of the 

 northern phalarope swims about the pools, apparently heedless of the 

 attending fair ones. Such stoical indifference is too much for some 

 of them to bear. A female in all her finery of nuptial plumage glides 

 close to him and bows her head in pretty submissiveness, but he turns 

 away, pecks at a bit of food and moves off; she follows, and he quick- 

 ens his speed, but in vain ; he is her choice, and she proudly arches her 

 neck and in mazy circles passes and repasses before the harassed 

 bachelor. He turns his breast first to one side and then to the other, 

 as if to escape, but there before him is his gentle wooer, ever 

 pressing her ardent suit. Frequently he takes flight to another part 

 of the pool, all to no purpose. If, with affected indifference, he 

 searches for food, she swims by his side, almost touching him, and at 

 intervals rises a foot or two above his back and makes half a 

 dozen quick wing-strokes, producing a rapid series of sharp whistling 

 notes. Time and importunity at length have their effect. The male 

 accepts a partner, and the female no longer needs to use her seductive 

 blandishments to draw his attention to her. About the first of June 

 the dry side of a knoll near some small pond sees four dark, hand- 

 somely marked eggs laid in a little hollow, sometimes without lining, 

 or with a few carelessly added grass-blades. Here the captive male 

 is introduced to new duties, and spends much of his time brooding 

 the eggs, while the female idles about the pool near by. The newly 

 hatched young are beautiful little balls of buff and brown. 



The most musical notes among the ducks are those of the old- 

 squaw, a species common from the upper Yukon to the sea-coast. 

 During the mating-season the drake gives a series of deep, reed-like 

 notes, so melodious that Jack McQuesten and other fur-traders of 



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