Notes from Field and Study 



359 



before the long, sinister body of a Great 

 Northern Diver came to the surface in the 

 exact spot vacated by the Coot. Taking 

 one quick glance around, he immediately 

 dove out of sight. 



The Coot was swimming in circles some 

 distance away and showing very clearly 

 signs of nervousness. I brought my 

 glasses to bear on her and was able to note 

 the excited attitude and the sharp turn of 

 her head as she paddled about. Suddenly 

 a geyser-like eruption occurred directly 

 beneath her, and she shot two or three feet 

 into the air, impelled by the force of the 

 blow from the Loon who was darting up- 

 ward with such momentum that he fol- 

 lowed her clear out of the water. 



The Coot, plainly distressed, flew halt- 

 ingly across the open water and into the 

 safety of the flags and marsh grasses on 

 the other side, while the Loon, in much 

 the same sardonic manner as the com- 

 manders of some of Germany's U-boats, 

 sat back on his tail in the water, flapping 

 his wings, darting his wicked bill back and 

 forth, and uttering his harsh laughter 

 again and again. — H. J. LaDue, St. Paul, 

 Minn. 



A Surprised Ruddy Duck 



The sense of humor is supposed not to 

 be very strongly developed in birds, but 

 an occasional incident is so ludicrous from 

 the human point of view that we would 

 fain read into the behavior of birds, if not 

 into their facial expression, an appreciation 

 of the situation. On one occasion, — to be 

 exact, June 28, 191 7, — the writer, seated 

 on a bank along the sluggish, cat-tail 

 bordered stream that connects Upper Des 

 Lacs Lake with Middle Des Lacs Lake in 

 northwestern North Dakota, was watch- 

 ing the antics of a beautifully plumaged 

 male Ruddy Duck as he admired himself 

 In the water. By and by a Coot, unob- 

 served, sneaked up behind him as if un- 

 conscious of his presence. When the Coot 

 had approached to within about two feet, 

 the Ruddy Duck heard a slight splash, and, 

 surprised in the midst of his personal re- 

 flections, suddenly started up the creek 

 so excited that he was unable to rise from 



the water, but labored along just above 

 the surface, rapidly beating his wings and 

 churning up the water with his feet. Not 

 until he had traveled a hundred yards or 

 more did he as much as cast a glance bfe- 

 hind, and when he discovered the unneces- 

 sary cause of his fright, he swam sheep- 

 ishly away into the rushes, while the Coot 

 remained behind in evident enjoyment of 

 his discomfiture. — Harry C. Oberholser, 

 Washington, D. C. 



From Near the Arctic Circle 



Isolated at this grain station of Uncle 

 Sam's, sixty-five miles from the Arctic 

 Circle, our greatest pleasure is studying the 

 birds and butterflies. 



On page 447 of the November-Decem- 

 ber, 1918, Bird-Lore, is a question about 

 the nesting of Cliff Swallows. Last sum- 

 mer several of them made their nests on 

 our barn, the building being covered with 

 corrugated iron, painted red. The nests 

 were under the eaves and plastered to an 

 unpainted board but ran down onto the 

 red iron. Not one of the nests remained 

 the season out; one by one they fell off, 

 the eggs were all destroyed, and this year 

 there was not a Swallow near that building. 



In the March-April, 1918, number, 

 page 183, the letter from Tom McCamant 

 was very interesting, and he may like to 

 know that our experience with the Alaska 

 Robin is that it is tamer than any other 

 bird around here. We have many of the 

 busy little fellows working in our yard and 

 flower-beds and garden every summer, and 

 I should not think of calling them shy. A 

 pair of these good friends of ours built a 

 nest on the ground just outside the fence. 

 I visited them many times, and they fol- 

 lowed me around and scolded. Frequently 

 the Robins nest in the various sheds on the 

 place, proceeding with their work in spite 

 of the many busy men coming and going 

 around them. Two years ago one of the 

 young birds got down behind an imple- 

 ment and I was obliged to get it out. The 

 mother bird was present but seemed per- 

 fectly calm as I walked around with the 

 little one in my hand, and three times that 



