4402 THE ZoOOLOGIST—APRIL, 1875. 
the next of my kind that comes into your hands, just pluck the 
feathers off and wire up in the flesh, and then you will succeed if 
success is in you.” This bird frequently uttered a “qua, qua, 
qua,” much resembling the domestic duck in tone of voice. It 
never made the least attempt to fly or go towards the window: its 
eye was chiefly directed to the open door and darkish passage, 
and it often made towards it in the most awkward style,—raising 
the body with the wings, which, by a sudden muscular action, were 
lifted up, only to come down again with cruel force on to the 
floor,—rarely proceeding more than a few inches; in this effort a 
sort of crawling motion was given to the feet, and the toes were 
kept closed, which, taking no hold of the carpet, did not aid in the 
least to propel it forward. I would gladly have kept the bird alive, 
but I could not persuade it to eat anything, and as it had been 
already kept two days without food,—and I had no place at hand 
to witness its actions in water,—I killed and stuffed it, all the 
better, I hope, for the information it had given me. On skinning 
it I found no less than five No, 5 shot in the neck, one in the 
wing, and one in the lower back: there was no outward sign of 
injury, for when these sort of birds are shot there is generally 
sufficient down driven in by the shot to plug up the wound and 
prevent bleeding. But one word as to the killing of such a bird as 
this—will any one point out which is the most humane way, so 
as not to injure the plumage or skin? TI usually kill birds for 
stuffing by pressure; but in these sort of birds it is really such a 
long and cruel process—in fact, something like trying to squeeze 
the life out of a foot-ball—that I shall be glad of information on 
the subject. 
Grebe.—I examined the remains of a grebe,—picked up on the 
beach about a week ago,—and, judging from the size of the bird 
and markings of the few feathers, I am pretty sure it was the 
rednecked species. 
Wild Duck.—A pair shot on the 10th: I found that the male 
had a broken wing; the bone had strongly knit together, and 
though rather curved it could not be detected in the bird’s flight. 
This appears not to be an uncommon occurrence: I have twice 
found instances of it in the goosander; the tarsi, on the same side 
as the injured wing in one of these ducks, had been broken, and 
had strongly united by growing a sort of splint over the part. It 
has always puzzled me how these poor birds get on, and how the 
oe — 
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