Sea and Bay Ducks 



tree, close by the lake or river side, and covers over her large dutch 

 of pale bluish eggs with down from her breast. As usual in the 

 duck tribe, the drake avoids all nursery duties by joining a club 

 of males that disport themselves at leisure during the summer 

 moult. 



Wonderfully expert swimmers and divers, their fully webbed 

 feet, that make these accomplishments possible, so interfere with 

 their progress on land that they visit it only rarely. One can dis- 

 tinctly hear the broad webs slap the ground, as, with wings partly 

 distended to help keep a balance, the golden-eye labors awk- 

 wardly on by jerks to reach the water, where not even the loon 

 is more at home. As the golden-eye's flesh is rank and fishy and 

 tough, owing to the small proportion of vegetable food it eats, 

 and the large amount of exercise it must take to secure active 

 prey, there can be no excuse for the sportsman's hunting it; and, 

 happily, there is apt to be scant reward for his efforts. 



Exceedingly shy and wary, with a sentinel on the constant 

 lookout, and associated only with those ducks that are as quick 

 to take alarm as themselves, the whistlers are among the most 

 difficult birds to approach. They dive at the slightest fear, swim 

 under water like a fish, or, bounding upward with a few labored 

 strokes from the surface of the lake, make off at a speed and at a 

 height the tyro need not hope to overtake with a shot. During 

 the late autumn migration the males precede their discarded mates 

 and young by a fortnight. They continue abundant around many 

 parts of our country, inland and on the coast, and enliven the 

 winter desolation after most other birds have deserted us for 

 warmer climes. 



Barrow's Golden-eye (Glaucionetta islandica), a more 

 northern species, that is often seen in the west, may scarcely be 

 told from the common whistler either in features or habits. A 

 crescent-shaped white spot at the base of the bill of the drake 

 and more purplish iridescence on his head are his distinguish- 

 ing marks; but the small females of these two species are be- 

 lieved to be identical. In the region of the salmon canneries 

 these ducks lose some of their native shyness and boldly gorge 

 themselves on the decaying fish. Allan Brooks writes that "the 

 note is a hoarse croak." Doubtless the common golden-eye 

 makes some such noise also, or that close student, Charles 



123 



