Among the Water-Fowl 



surface. Sprinkled about everywhere among them 

 were what looked like little mounds. Upon nearly 

 every mound sat a bird. As they saw me, some slid 

 off into the water, while others industriously pecked 

 at something. Then it dawned upon me — I had 

 found a breeding colony of the American Eared 

 Grebe. The mounds were nests, and the birds were 

 covering their eggs, as is their custom, to hide them 

 from the intruder. 



Soon I was right in the midst of the Grebe city. 

 But such wet, untidy, uncomfortable homes they 

 were, as contrasted with the warm, soft, downy beds 

 that Ducks prepare, the substantial structure of the 

 Robin, or the elaborately-woven pouch oi the 

 Oriole ! I felt that I was in the slums of bird-dom. 

 Here was the problem of the submerged class of 

 their society. But who, after all, would be the 

 happier should the Grebe ascend from the bottom 

 round of the ladder of classification, and, forsaking 

 his fish relations and his habits of submergence, make 

 a cleaner nest ashore, and waddle awkwardly on 

 dry land? 



At my approach the Grebes all left their nests, 

 though in some cases the anxious owners lingered 

 to cover their treasures until I was almost upon 

 them. This enabled me to watch carefully the 

 whole process. The bird arose from a prostrate 

 position upon the eggs, and assumed one more or 

 less upright, squatting upon the rump, to one side 

 of the eggs. Reaching over, she seized with the 

 bill a piece of floating grass close at hand, and laid 

 it across them. Sometimes she would fish out quite 

 a bunch at one haul. If possible, she kept at it 



4 



