16 BULLETIN 107, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM. 
Mr. Alvin R. Cahn (1912), who had an excellent opportunity to 
study this species at close range through an opening in the ice of 
Cayuga Lake, describes its movements under water as follows: 
The water was clear, and the bird could be seen plainly, shooting and zig- 
zagging about, midway between the surface and the bottom. While swimming 
under water, the neck is extended to its utmost, and both legs and wings are 
used. With neck outstretched, the bird offers the least possible resistance to 
the water, there being a smooth and gradual transition from the tip of the 
slender bill to the middle of the back, the widest part of the body. The speed 
which is developed under water is marvelous, at times it being almost impos- 
sible to follow its movements, which were so rapid that the bird appeared more 
like a large, gray fish darting about. When coming to the surface the bill and 
head appeared slowly, when a glimpse of the observer caused it to dive again. 
In diving, even though the body was under water, the bill went down first, so 
that it really dove instead of sinking quietly. 
On its breeding grounds Holbeell’s grebe is often seen swimming 
about in pairs in marshy ponds or on the lakes. When undisturbed 
it swims quite buoyantly with its head drawn down on its folded 
neck, much as a duck swims, occasionally rolling over on its side to 
wash and preen its plumage or pointing its bill up in the air to give its 
loud weird call. But on the slightest scent of danger it sinks until 
its tail is below the surface, its back is awash, and its head is stretched 
up to watch and listen as it swims rapidly away. Should a human 
being approach within a hundred yards of the shy creature, it is 
gone for good; if on a large lake, it swims quickly away under water 
and appears again only in the dim distance; if near a marsh, it seeks 
shelter in the reeds and does not show itself again. Human intimacy 
is not encouraged by this vanishing water sprite. 
One beautiful moonlight night in June, as we lay at anchor near 
some Manitoba marshes, I had a good chance to study the love song 
of this interesting bird. The night was calm and the mosquitoes 
made sleep impossible, as we lay rolled in our blankets on the deck 
of our little boat, listening to the varied voices of the marsh. The 
activities of life in the marshes do not wholly cease at sundown; 
birds are very active and noisy during the hours of twilight or all 
night long when there is bright moonlight; even on dark nights 
hardly an hour passes without some vocal signs of life. This night 
seemed particularly favorable, quiet and cool after a long hot day. 
The Franklin’s gulls and black terns which were feeding over the 
marshes in the cool of the evening kept up their restless beating long 
after it seemed possible for them to see their insect prey. The chat- 
tering of bronzed grackles and Brewer’s and red-winged blackbirds, 
as well as the rhythmic chants of the yellowheads quieted down at 
dusk; but their notes were frequently heard all through the night 
as the birds awoke to change their positions on their insecure roosts 
in the reeds. The long rolling diminuendo call of the sora rails and 
