OLD-SQUAWS, COOTS, AND EIDERS 199 



and water came aboard the boats. A neighbor shouts : 

 " We can't stand it much longer out here," and soon the 

 anchors all are up; the boats are pulling madly for the 

 shore. Mountains of water with snowy crests of foam 

 come rushing on and toss the heavy craft about. A 

 mile an hour, perhaps, and then the boats pull one by 

 one into more quiet water under shelter of the island. 

 The gunners gather about the office stove to tell the 

 stories of the day. 



As for the game, it certainly is not worth the work. It 

 must be worth the fun. The birds have a strong sedgy 

 or fishy taste which parboiling with onions will not re- 

 move. They are, too, covered with heavy feathers which 

 protect them from the shot, and make the preparation 

 of them for the table arduous. Elliot says of one of these 

 — the white-winged scoter: " Its feathers also, besides 

 being strong and thick, seem as if they were inserted 

 through the skin and clinched on the other side, and 

 the labor of picking a few individuals of this coat is no 

 joke, usually resulting in sore fingers." His reference 

 to the flesh is that it is "abominable." 



Returning to New Haven from my first expedition 

 to the Thimble Islands (entirely unaware of the riv- 

 eted feathers and table qualities referred to), I pre- 

 sented a few of these delicacies to a college professor 

 who with his niece, a handsome and lovely girl, had 

 placed me under many obligations by their kindness 

 to a "freshman." The next time I called upon my 

 friends I was thanked for the birds, but there was an 

 absence of all enthusiasm in the thanks, and when I 

 came to know the game, the wretched thought occurred 

 to me that they had probably tried to eat the ducks 



