62 THE ZOOLOGIST. 



and gloves on, but no net round my hat. An umbrella very- 

 much lessens the plague of mosquitoes. It seems to puzzle them, 

 the greater part do not come under it, and, of those that do, 

 most fly at once to the top, where they stay. I saw nothing else 

 in the nature of nuptial activities, but a Phalarope bathing was 

 a pretty sight. It made a number of severely straight bobs up 

 in the water, coming down again with equal precision, but the 

 bobs were a good deal higher than those which a bird usually 

 makes on such occasions. Also it bobbed in a more rigidly 

 straight manner, and not with its head alone, but with its 

 whole person, as a mallet would have to do, to bob its head, so 

 that the bathing of the Phalarope is something of a unique 

 affair. After bathing came preening. The bird got up upon a 

 mossy cinder (for all the stones here look like, and I believe really 

 are, cinders) to do it, and when it had continued for what seemed 

 like a quarter of an hour, I thought of timing it, and it went on 

 for another ten minutes by my watch. I noticed, or thought I 

 noticed, that its feathers looked wetter than what is usual with 

 ordinary aquatic birds, as if they were not so well provided with 

 oil — not like a Duck's back. 



Later, I defied the mosquitoes at this pool — which is a very 

 pretty one — for another mauvais quart dlieure, hoping to see 

 something more considerable of the loves of the Phalaropes, but 

 the one bird there, when I came, was not joined by any other. 

 This one, however, enforced my previous observation as to the 

 damage done by this species to mosquitoes, for she was occupied 

 solely in devouring them. They were caught on the water, on the 

 bank and in the air, and often the mossy rocks over which they 

 delighted to hover would be mounted for their sweet sakes. 

 Other favourite resorts were little nooks or miniature creeks of 

 the bank, and particularly where it overhung to any considerable 

 extent, and as this was constantly the case, the bird would have 

 been each time invisible except from the bank directly opposite 

 it, where I sat. It entered more than once a veritable cavern 

 that was formed in this way, and where many mosquitoes danced. 

 "What's the good of mosquitoes?" "What were mosquitoes 

 made for? " — a class of question not yet obsolete, amongst our- 

 selves — would seem a sufficiently bizarre one to a Phalarope. 

 These birds should be encouraged wherever mosquitoes are and 



