Sea and Bay Ducks 



preference; famous divers and swimmers; strong, swift flyers; 

 noisy, restless, lively fellows, that live in a state of happy commo- 

 tion; gregarious at all seasons, and strongly in evidence where- 

 ever they find their way. 



There can be no excuse for killing these fish eaters for their 

 flesh, which is rank and apparently in the very prime of tough- 

 ness throughout their stay here; hut they are clothed with par- 

 ticularly thick, fine, lively feathers that are in great demand for 

 pillows. These form an almost invulnerable armor one would 

 think, yet great quantities of old squaws' down and feathers are 

 bought by upholsterers every year. At the north the mother 

 herself pulls out some of her feathers to cover her pale bluish 

 eggs, concealed in a rude nest in grasses or under some low bush 

 near the shore. When wounded, as the duck flies low and very 

 swiftly along the water, it instantly dives from the wing, accord- 

 ing to Mr. Mackay. He tells of seeing many of them towering, 

 "usually in the afternoon, collecting in mild weather in large 

 flocks if undisturbed, and going up in circles so high as to be 

 scarcely discernible, often coming down with a rush and great' 

 velocity, a portion of the flock scattering and coming down in a 

 zig-zag course similar to the scoters when whistled down.'' 



The Harlequin Duck (Histrionicus histrionicus), also called 

 Lords and Ladies, comes down to our more northern coasts of sea 

 and large inland lakes only when ice has closed its feeding 

 grounds at the north; but no clanging call invites our attention 

 when these gay masqueraders appear on the scene, tricked out in 

 black, white, blue, and reddish brown applied in stripes and 

 spots; and as they keep well out from shore to hunt in our open 

 waters, few get a good look at their fantastic coats before they 

 return to the north to nest. The female can scarcely be dis- 

 tinguished from the female old squaw, except by her dusky 

 under parts. A harlequin's flesh is dark and unpalatable, for 

 fishy food is its staple, and no one not hard pressed by hunger 

 would care to eat it. From the characteristics of habit that dis- 

 tinguish all ducks of this subfamily, the harlequin differs little, 

 except in living near rushing, dashing streams of the Rocky and 

 Sierra Nevada mountains and northward during the nesting season. 

 Six or more yellowish or greenish buff eggs are laid in hollow 

 stumps near the water; and the fact that the young ducklings 



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