THE WINTER DUCK. 38385 
peninsula between lakes Huron and Ontario, into the 
great Georgian bay, I again came across this unknown 
wild-fowl. 
There had been four or five nights of very sharp frost, 
and ice had formed to the thickness of a dollar, even in 
the river, which is swift, and in places much broken by 
falls and rapids. We had cleared the river, and had 
entered the northern extremity of the lake, Simcoe, 
paddling as fast as we could toward the village of 
Orillia, with two canoes running on nearly parallel 
lines, perhaps a hundred yards apart, when we suddenly 
saw several large plumps of duck coming from the north. 
There were, I should think, thirty or forty fowl in each 
plump, and long before they were nearly within gun- 
shot, I observed that their flight was in itself peculiar, 
“ and unlike that of any fowl I had ever observed; for 
they wheeled and swooped frequently, more after the 
fashion of plovers, tattlers, or other shore-birds, than of 
any species of duck with which I was previously ac- 
quainted ; and these movements were the more conspic- 
uous, on account of the broad white bars across their 
wings, formed by the secondaries, which were alternate- 
ly seen and lost at every motion. 
At length, one of the smallest flocks wheeled in be- 
tween the two boats, and got the contents of three 
double-barrels, beside the charges of two or more ‘tong 
north-west Indian pieces. A good many birds were 
knocked over, quite dead; and a good many more 
