THE LONG-TAILED DUCK. 



LONG-TAILED DCCX. 



of America, where it is seen commonly associated with the Eider 

 Sari', Black and 

 other Ducks of 

 congenial habits, 

 who invariably 

 prefer the frail 

 but to them, pro- 

 ductive dominion 

 of the sea to the 

 land or its more 

 peaceful waters. 

 So strong is the 

 predilection of 

 this species for 

 its frigid natal 

 climes and their 

 icy barriers, says 

 Nuttall, that it is 

 seen to linger in 



the north as long as the existence of any open water can be ascer- 

 tained ; when the critical moment of departure at length approaches, 

 common wants and general feeling begin so far to prevail as to unite 

 the scattered families into numerous flocks. They now proceed 

 towards the south, and making a halt on the shores and inland lakes 

 round Hudson's Bay, remain until again reluctantly driven towards 

 milder climes. They are the last birds of passage that take leave of 

 the fur countries. Familiar with cold, and only driven to migrate 

 for food, in the latter end of August when already a thin crust of 

 ice is seen forming in the night over the still surface of the Arctic 

 Sea, the female Harelda is observed ingeniously breaking away with 

 her wings for the egress of her young brood. 



According to the state of the weather we consequently observe the 

 variable arrival of these birds. In October they generally pay us a 

 visit, the old already clad in the more dazzling garb of winter. The 

 young sometimes seek out the shelter of the fresh water ponds, but 

 the old keep out at sea. No place in the Union so abounds with 

 these gabblers as the Bay of Chesapeake. They are lively, restless 

 End gregarious in all their movements, and fly, dive and swim with 

 unrivalled dexterity ; and subsist chiefly upon small shell-fish, and 

 marine plants, particularly the Zostera or Grass- wrack. Late in the 

 evening, or early in the morning, towards spring more particularly, 

 vast flocks are seen in the bays and sheltered inlets, and in calm and 

 foggy weather we hear the loud and blended nasal call, reiterated for 

 hours from the motley multitude. There is something in the sound 

 like the honk of the Goose, and, as far as words can express a subject 

 so uncouth, it resembles the gutteral syllables, ''ogh ough egh, and then 

 ogh ogh ogh ough egh, given in a ludicrous drawling tone; but still 

 with all the accompaniments of scene and season, this humble harbin- 

 ger of spring, obeying the feelings of nature, and pouring forth his 

 5na ditty before his departure to the distant north, conspires with 



