on Wild Ducks from an Incubator.



103



The days passed rapidly, crowded with incident and adven¬

ture which there is not space enough here to recount. It was the

last night in camp. At midnight, having completed the necessary

tasks, I went outside before retiring, and sat on the brooder in the

moonlight, enjoying the wonderful scene and listening to the weird

voice sounds of birds from the great mysterious marsh. How I

should miss the canoe and the charm of the strange labyrinth where

bred the noble Canvasback !


Soon dawned the eventful day when 102 ducklings were to

start on their long journey. In the incubator were a few eggs still

unhatched. Three of them were the remnant of a set of Green¬

winged Teal stepped on by cattle ; the rest were of the late-laying

Scoter. I had calculated that these would not hatch till the end of

the journey. Alas, some were pipped that last night, and on the

morning of leaving a Teal and a Scoter were out, all the rest being

in process of hatching.


It was a real tragedy, but it was too late to alter our plans.

So, reluctantly, I put the unlucky brood in a pail, with warm sand

beneath, wrapped in a blanket. I misjudged the temperature. Every

egg had a live duckling in it, but by the time we got aboard the

train all had been overheated or smothered, save the two already

hatched, which, strange to relate, made the trip safely to

Connecticut.


We could not, therefore, determine the point about tran¬

sporting incubated eggs. I did, however, settle the question of the

safety of carrying a fresh Wild Ducks’ eggs in the cars on a very

long journey under the best conditions, with personal care. I had

saved for this test a set of eggs laid close by our camp, taking each

new egg as it was laid, to make sure of its being fresh, substituting

each time an egg from another set of the same kind in the incubator.

I packed them with great care, in springy paper, took care of them

on the journey, and turned them each day. Despite all this, notone

of them started an embryo. It is clear that the only sure way is to

hatch out the eggs before starting.


I might devote the entire particle to the experiences of that

memorable 2,000 mile journey. Two large double wagon loads

trailed southward over the prairie, that twenty-ninth of July, merci-



