The Red-Necked Phalarope. ^°3 



In fact I should have said that, of all the birds I know, the present species is 

 the most connubial, and the mutual devotion of a pair is a most charming thing 

 to see — in fact, quite touching. When not actively employed, they treat themselves, 

 and one another, to all manner of pretty and playful endearments. 



When on the water a Phalarope suggests a miniature Duck, from its buoyant 

 carriage, high out of the water, and protruded breast. They are essentially birds 

 of fresh water, and if found near the coast on migration, will probably be met 

 with on small brackish or fresh-water ponds, as has been mentioned of the Grey 

 Phalarope. I shall never forget my first interview with this bird ; it was on the 

 Dovrefjeld in 1882. I had no specimens and wanted some; wandering in the 

 marshes, I came across a pair swimming in a small pool. I expected them to 

 rise when they saw me, but this was apparently the last thing they thought of 

 doing. So I made demonstrations and noises — this only made them think that I 

 was some strange kind of lunatic — they merely paddled across to the further side 

 of the pool, some fifteen yards away. Then I threw a bit of willow stick at one 

 of them, but the little creature only swam behind a tuft of rushes. I wks near 

 giving it up, and going; but I hardened my heart (which took a little doing) 

 with the reflection that I was making a working collection of birds' skins, and 

 had come some distance to get this bird, amongst others : so I broke oflF a good 

 big willow branch and heaved it at them, and at last made them rise, and got 

 them. The reader will see that I do not return my conscience-money anonymously. 



Since then I have seen a great deal more of the Red-necked Phalarope, but 

 never have shot one without some "dying-antelope" qualms. Sometimes they 

 have been kind enough to fly overhead, with their characteristic wit-wit-wit, (the 

 only note I have heard them utter), and then it comes easier. One day, Mr. 

 Thos. Carter and I were eating our frugal lunch by a lake-side, in Iceland, where 

 these birds abounded (it was the day on which we found forty-five nests with 

 eggs). Probably a hundred were in sight; some were stealing through the grass 

 and bushes, quite close to us, like mice ; others were floating and resting on the 

 water, in pairs mostly, some preening their feathers, some making love (though 

 it was long past pairing time, and all had eggs), some playing comical little tricks 

 on one another. They took no more notice of us than if we had been boulders. 

 They are certainly amongst the tamest and most engaging of birds. Their food 

 consists of small worms and insects, and it is pretty to watch them catching flies, 

 with little trips and darts like a Wagtail's. 



