THE GAME BREEDER 



75 



of; .our citizenship have existed mostly 

 on paper? Moreover, how about our 

 hundreds of migratory game species, 

 such as the general family of shorebirds, 

 which can probably never be "farmed," 

 and which must be saved by laws or nut 

 at all? 



Let us have fewer game laws and more 

 game, by all means. But we will get 

 neither unless those "fewer" laws are 

 well advised, well enforced, well respect- 

 ed — and not undermined by veiled con- 

 tempt for the efficacy of game laws in 

 general. If the Game Breeder wants the 



autocratic European system of 1,000 

 grouse per day for earls and dukes, with 

 the privilege of looking over the fence 

 reserved for the common citizen, then 

 your magazine is- headed in the right di- 

 rection. But if we want to temper the 

 undoubted "efficiency" of the European 

 plan to the spirit of our American in- 

 stitutions, then I would beg your greater 

 tolerance toward closed markets and re- 

 strictive game laws. These measures 

 need to be simplified, perfected, enforced 

 and supplemented by game farming — 

 but not abolished. 



SOME BLACK DUCKS HATCHED IN AN INCUBATOR. 



By Z. Ted DeKalmar 



I told you in one of my letters about 

 a clutch of black duck eggs that I found 

 in my swamp, laid by one of the visiting 

 blacks and which I felt obliged to steal, 

 as the duck did not return after sev- 

 eral hours' absence. The story about the 

 eggs follows : I found the eggs on Mon- 

 day, April 7th, at about one o'clock, P.M. 

 Under the circumstances I presumed the 

 eggs had not been set upon since I dared 

 not to hope that any of the visiting blacks 

 would nest on the place in view of the 

 fact that I had been busy for weeks past 

 enlarging the enclosure. One Tuesday, 

 April 8, at 7.45 A. M., some eighteen 

 hours later, these eggs were put into an 

 incubator having in the meantime been 

 kept in a cool room but without any 

 special precaution. 



I thought it best to follow the usual 

 procedure of starting the incubator at 

 101 degrees, treating the eggs as if they 

 had not been set upon. In two weeks' 

 time I raised it to 102 degrees, still pre- 

 suming that the eggs set on April 8 

 would only be due May 5. To my utter 

 amazement I found the eggs pipping on 

 April 28 and on the following morning 

 1 found eight ducklings out ; one was 

 dead in the shell and two eggs were ad- 

 dled of the original eleven eggs. This 

 would indicate that these eggs had been 

 incubated not less than eight days. What 



I wish to emphasize, however, is the fact 

 that any eggs hatched after having been 

 "cooled" for 18 hours in a room the 

 temperature of which was about 55 de- 

 grees. It speaks volumes for the staying 

 power of wild-bred stock and their off- 

 spring and I was gratified to have ex- 

 perienced the singular occurrence. 



This, however, is not all. It so hap- 

 pened that when 36 hours old I smug- 

 gled the ducklings under a hen with a 

 brood of five day old chicks and housed 

 in the barn on account of inclement 

 weather. The exchange was made late 

 at night and the hen was quite ignorant 

 of its nature. Having made sure she 

 would accept the ducklings, I retired. 



During the night there was a heavy 

 rainstorm, and at six o'clock A. M. when 

 I went down to look after the ducklings 

 my setting hens, chicks and everything 

 were dripping wet. Opening the barn 

 door I found one of the little ducks out- 

 side of the hatching room, standing in 

 the middle of the bare floor. I went to 

 the nest to find the hen sitting on 

 two ducklings crushed to death and 

 the rest were massing. Printers' ink, pa- 

 per and time are too precious nowadays 

 for me to recite my utterances. I made 

 a complete search of the barn and im- 

 mediate neighborhood but I found noth- 

 ing. I "spoke" duck, then duckling, but 



