The Blue-winged Teal 



My first glimpse of Stow Lake was on a Saturday in November, 1910. 

 In the southwestern corner of the watery circle, in the shelter of the little 

 island, a dozen Mallards and as many Widgeons submitted, rather un- 

 comfortably, to inspection. Aided by a passing boat on the other side, 

 I passed within twenty feet of a nervous bunch which included one 

 American Golden-eye ; but when I returned with the camera a few mo- 

 ments later, they made off as one bird. 



The Coots, or "Mud Hens," were as tame as "chickens." They 

 swarmed over the banks in search of bugs, or plucked grass like geese, or 

 fought for crumbs under the very feet of the passerby. Their abundance 

 and fearlessness appeared to exert a restraining influence on the wild 

 ducks, with which, of course, they freely mingled. 



It was at the eastern end of the lake, however, that the ducks really 

 congregated. Here there were at no time less than a hundred ducks of 

 some ten species, exclusive of coots and semi-domesticated geese; yet 

 their number and complexion was continually changing. Here, on the 

 19th of November, I saw a little company of Blue-winged Teals, along 

 with Widgeons, Mallards, Pintails, Shovellers, both the Scaups (Greater 

 and Lesser), American Golden-eye, Bufflehead and Ruddy Ducks. 



Curious to note what effect the Sunday crowds would have upon 

 bird-life, I returned the following afternoon. The object lesson of pro- 

 tection was even more striking; for while there were as many ducks in 

 evidence as on the previous day, people were at least ten times as nu- 

 merous. At one time I counted 145 ducks of eight species upon the east 

 arm of the lake, all within a stone's throw of shore, where over a hundred 

 people surrounded them. Their retreat, furthermore, was cut off by six 

 passing boatloads of merrymakers in the channel. Yet here the wild 

 ducks came by preference, and while the bolder of their numbers crowded 

 the bread-line just offshore, the more timid tucked head under wing and 

 slept, thankful to have escaped the grilling gun-fire to which other humans, 

 just like these (?), had been subjecting them over thousands of acres of 

 marsh lands. 



Five other smaller lakes to the westward in this same park also con- 

 tained ducks and coots in varying quantities. The Mallards were shyest 

 and most ill at ease wherever seen, and they were found in greatest num- 

 bers in a neglected pond half grown up to willows. One shallow, open 

 lake, with no protection of shrubbery whatever, was in great demand as a 

 "playground," or rather, mimic sea, for children's boats. Half a dozen 

 miniature yachts under full sail were plying these waters, yet seventy Rud- 

 dy Ducks (Erismatura jamaicensis) occupied the center of the pond, and 

 seemed to exhibit no fear of the toy boats. Wherefore, it is safe to say 

 that if the public was really trustworthy, so that not even the small boys 



1771 



