26 
The Wood Duck 
The stump from which the female had flown was what remained of a 
once large forest tree that had withstood the gales of a hundred years or 
more, and then at some period in its old age had broken off about twenty 
feet from the ground. The heart of the stump had 
The Nest decayed from the top downward nearly four feet, 
leaving a solid rim of wood on the outside. In this 
hollow the Wood Duck had made her nest. She had come that morning to 
lay an egg, and while thus occupied her mate had gallantly waited to 
escort her back to the lake. Climbing up I found four eggs almost en- 
tirely concealed in a soft bed of feathers that the female had plucked 
from her body to make the nest soft and warm. 
The following afternoon I went with a friend to look at my new-found 
treasures in the wilderness. Coming in sight of the nesting-snag, great 
was our disgust to find an old Crow standing on a stump close by eating 
one of the duck’s eggs. We rushed toward him with angry gestures, but 
the black rogue merely retired to the limb of a tree and wiped his bill 
on the bark with the most diabolical unconcern. He could see we had 
no gun, and so was in no hurry to leave. Shrewdly he guessed that we 
would soon depart and leave him free to finish the feast which he had 
found in the snag. 
The shells of two or three eggs, from which the contents had been 
eaten, were lying about on the ground, and upon climbing to the nest I 
found it held but a single one. I visited the place frequently afterward in 
the hope that the ducks would continue to use it, but they at once de- 
serted the nest which had met with such ill fortune. 
It has been stated by some observers that the young are carried from 
the nest, one at a time, in the bill of the parent birds, and deposited on 
the ground at the root of the nesting-tree, whence they are afterwards 
led in a body to the water. Still others say that the 
th^N^t young drop from the nest, spreading their feet and 
moving their wings to break the force of their fall. 
Perhaps both methods are employed, depending on the situation of the 
nest. This one was a mile and a half distant from the nearest body of 
water, and to reach it, if the young walked, they would b® forced to pass 
through forest and plowed fields; surely a most tiresome and perilous 
undertaking. Doubtless the parents carried them to the lake. 
The next morning I crossed the field to the shallow arm of the 
grassy lake from which the ducks had so often come. Approaching 
cautiously I was able to make out two old ones some distance from shore. 
There was much marsh-grass here which partly obstructed the view, but 
I was sure that I detected a number of young swimming with their 
parents. Being satisfied that the family was now located, I went up the 
shore some distance and, getting a skiff, came cautiously back toward the 
feeding birds. I used every precaution. Lying in the boat with one arm 
over the side near the stern, I slowly sculled around the last bend in the 
marsh-grass and came in full view of the spot where I had seen the 
brood. 
