FLYERS, SWIMMERS, AND DIVERS 237 



wounded by sportsmen in the fall, can be kept on, a farm 

 perfectly contented all winter; but when the honking 

 flocks return from the South in March or April, they rarely 

 resist "the call of the wild," and away they go toward their 

 kin and freedom. 



Wild Ducks 



Birds that spend their summers for the most part north 

 of the United States and travel past us faster than the 

 fastest automobile racer or locomotive — and an hundred 

 miles an hour is not an uncommon speed for ducks to fly — 

 need have Kttle to fear, one might suppose. But so 

 mercilessly are they hunted whenever they stop to rest, 

 that few birds are more timid. 



River and pond ducks, that have the most delicious 

 flavor because they feed on wild rice, celery, and other 

 dainty fare, frequent sluggish streams and shallow ponds. 

 There they tip up their bodies in a funny way to probe 

 about the muddy bottoms, their heads stuck down under 

 water, their tails and flat, webbed feet in the air directly 

 above them, just as barnyard ducks stand on their heads. 

 They like to dabble along the shores, too, and draw out 

 roots, worms, seeds, and tiny sheUfish imbedded in the 

 banks. Of course they get a good deal of mud in their 

 mouths, but their broad flat bills have strainers on the sides, 

 and merely by shutting them tight, the mud and water are 

 forced out of the gutters. After nightfall ducks seem 

 especiaUy active and noisy. 



In every slough where mallards, blue- and green-winged 

 teal, widgeons, black duck and pintails settle down to rest 

 in autumn, gunners wait concealed in the sedges. Decoy- 



