90 A PHILOSOPHER WITH NATURE 



tion. A huge submerged heap of water-soaked 

 rushes and reeds is surmounted by a deep layer of 

 the same materials, warm and dry, and lined inside 

 with smaller chops and fibres. The deep hollow 

 in the centre holds nine large eggs speckled with 

 black on a grey ground colour. The eggs are quite 

 warm, for the bird has been sitting during the night, 

 and she has doubtless only just slipped into the 

 water. 



We have reached a spot now where the rushes 

 grow thinner, and where the reeds, which abhor a 

 gravelly bottom, are found only in patches. The fat 

 perch, which always share these inland waters with 

 the pike, move lazily into deeper water as we ad- 

 vance. You notice a wild movement amongst the 

 sedge in front. Something is beating its way before 

 us. It is not a dozen yards off now, and the bul- 

 rushes and long reeds are violently agitated as it 

 moves along. It cannot be a dog, it is not an otter, 

 and no fish would cause such a disturbance. Nor 

 is there any bird which would exactly suggest such 

 a movement. We press forward, and the distsince 

 is lessened : it travels slowly. Now we catch sight 

 of something brown moving. Another stride, and 

 the cause of the agitation is revealed. It is a wild 

 duck — the mother bird — ^pressing her way through 

 the sedge ; not alone, however, but closely followed 

 by eight or nine recently hatched httle ones, the 

 latter so closely packed together as they swim that 

 they seem to move through the water like a sohd 

 bank of dark brown fur. We are seen. Now you 

 witness one of the most curious sights in nature. 

 The mother at once abandons the efforts she has 

 been so far making to glide away with her charges 



