THE DABCHICK 169 



and weeds of which it was composed ; and she gave them a 

 fresh wet covering every time that she left them, arranging 

 it around the eggs, so that the edges of the nest gradually 

 became higher and higher. The bird appeared to be very 

 frequently off during the daytime, remaining away for hours 

 together, playing about on the water with her mate. After a 

 fortnight of this kind of sitting, I one day saw her followed by 

 six little dabchicks, scarcely bigger than large beetles, but as 

 active and as much at home on the water as their parents. A 

 very windy day came on, and the young birds collected in a 

 group behind a floating rail, which being half grounded at an 

 angle of the pool, made a kind of breakwater for them. The 

 old birds swam out of this harbour when I came, but the little 

 ones crept close up to the railing, uttering a feeble squeak like 

 a young chicken. Huddled up in a group, they certainly were 

 the smallest and quaintest-looking little divers that I ever saw. 

 I have heard it argued that it was impossible that eggs could 

 be hatched in a situation constantly exposed to so much wet 

 and dam.p, but those of this kind of grebe are certainly an 

 exception, as they were continually wet below, and frequently 

 covered with wet green weed. I do not know why the bird 

 should always bring the covering from below the water, but she 

 invariably did so, and the pool being in a convenient place for 

 my watching them closely, I took some trouble to be sure that 

 my observations were correct. It is a pretty, amusing little 

 bird, and quite harmless : I have always much pleasure in 

 watching their lively actions in the water. Where undisturbed, 

 thev soon become bold and confident. These little fellows used 

 to swim plose to me, and after looking up in my face with an 

 arch cock of their tiny head, turn up their round sterns and dip 

 under the water. They often remained so long under water, 

 that the circles made in the calm pool from their last dive were 

 quite obliterated from the surface before the saucy-looking little 

 fellows would rise again, often in exactly the same spot, when 

 they would look at me again, as if to be sure of who I was ; 

 then, turning half over in the water, they would scratch their 

 neck with their curiously-formed foot, shake their apology of a 

 wing, and dip under again. 



One day my dog jumped into the water for a swim, and the 

 motions of the birds were then very different. They dived 



