River and Pond Ducks 



Maryland and the sloughs of the interior, and with a flock 

 of wooden decoys floating near by; or the nefarious market- 

 gunner in his "sink boat," and with a dazzling reflector behind 

 the naphtha lamp on the front of his scow, bag by fair means 

 and foul immense numbers of baldpates every season; yet so 

 prolific is the bird, and so widely distributed over this continent, 

 that there still remain widgeons to shoot. That is the fact one 

 must marvel at when one gazes on the results of a single 

 night's slaughtering in the Chesapeake country. The pot hunter 

 who uses a reflector to fascinate the flocks of ducks that, bedded 

 for the night, swim blindly up to the sides of the boat, moving 

 silently among them, often kills from twenty to thirty at a shot. 

 True sportsmen must soon awaken to the necessity for stopping 

 this wholesale murdering of our finest game birds. 



Whew, whew, whew — "a shrilly feeble whistle, precisely such 

 as the young puddle duck of the barnyard makes in his earliest 

 vocal efforts" — announces the coming of a flock of baldpates 

 high overhead. Audubon heard them say "sweet, sweet," as if 

 piped by a flute or hautboy. In spite of their marvelously swift 

 flight, estimated from one hundred to one hundred and twenty 

 miles an hour, their stiffened wings constantly beating the air 

 that whistles by them, they are, nevertheless, often overtaken on 

 the wing by the duck hawk, their worst enemy next to man. 

 Diving and swimming under water are their only resorts when 

 this villain attacks them. 



But when living an undisturbed life, the widgeons greatly 

 prefer that other ducks, notably the canvasbacks, should do their 

 diving for them. Around the Chesapeake, where great flocks of 

 wild ducks congregate to feed on the wild celery, the wid- 

 geons show a not disinterested sociability, for they kindly permit 

 their friends to make the plunges down into the celery beds, 

 loosen the tender roots, and bring a succulent dinner to the 

 surface; then rob them immediately on their reappearance. 

 Such piracy keeps the ducks in a state of restless excitement, 

 which is further induced by the whistling of the widgeons' wings 

 in their confused manner of flight in and around the feeding- 

 grounds. Here they wheel about in the air; splash and splutter 

 the water; stand up in it and work their wings; half run, half fly 

 along the surface, and in many disturbing ways make themselves 

 a nuisance to the hunter in ambush. They seem especially 



