360



Mr. Herbert K. Job,



first of July. Here they nest in under the terrible tangles of nettles

and other growth. Every day it was getting taller and more dense,

but it was useless to hunt before incubation began. So, early in

July, I instituted a series of the most arduous, sweat-wringing

tramps. On July fourth as I was struggling through the jungle all

of a sudden there arose a tremendous flapping right at my feet. I

had almost trodden upon a scoter on her nest, a few feet back from

the edge of a creek. Off she flopped into the w r ater, and I had her

nine nearly fresh eggs.


Next day I was at it again. Leaving the canoe on the shore

of a bay, I tramped four miles away. Then I landed a set of blue¬

winged teal, fresh, even at this late date. Five minutes later, in a

tract of tall marsh grass, I heard a rustle close beside me, and saw

the grass move. Throwing down my hat to mark the nest, I made

a dive for the scoter, and caught her before she could reach the

creek. This nest contained eight eggs, nearly fresh. The parent

bird rested quietly under my arm, as though not in the least afraid.

All of a sudden she gave one tremendous push and flop, and left me

most unceremoniously ! Just then there broke a big thunderstorm

that had been coming up. The electrical display was especially im¬

pressive to one alone and unsheltered out in the wilderness.


Not every day, however, did we score a find. The wilderness

was so vast and the ducks so scattered that this nest hunting was

almost like the proverbial quest for the needle in the haystack.

Sometimes days went by without the finding of a single nest, despite

the most arduous efforts. At one time we hired a rig and drove

thirty miles, steering by compass over the prairie to Shoal Lake, a

large alkaline body of water, without outlet, surrounded by timber.

The lake was very low from drought. The adjoining marshes were

baked, and the ducks had mostly abandoned them. All we got for

our three days’ effort was one set of gad wall’s eggs found on a little

island. Also, on another island, I took photographs of a brood of

four funny, fuzzy little long-eared owls, whose home was in a timber

“bluff.” Returning to camp, we started the incubators, and col¬

lected up the sets of eggs previously found.


Our activities disclosed the fact that there were twelve species

of wild ducks regularly breeding in the region, namely : pintail,



