FOREST AND STREAM. 
[July 28, 1906. 
138 
“Just as they raised their heads.” 
over the surface like a reddish-gray line. I saw 
the falcon near the now calling duck. It, poor 
thing, was splashing up the water in a long 
line of mimic waves, literally walking along on 
the tip of its wings, feet and tail. The trailing 
talon of the falcon settled into the tender flesh 
of the duck; the impact was so great that the 
bird of prey had to exert its utmost powers to 
save himself from dipping into the water. With 
a few heavy flaps of its great wings, it rose from 
the lake bearing the poor duck in its merciless 
talons. Better perhaps this quick painless death 
than the lingering for full two months ere the 
other fatal hold of disease finished this hand¬ 
some drake. 
In these spring days all the southern Ontario 
lakes have their visiting flocks of migrating 
ducks. This seems to be the chosen route for 
the bluebills, the redheads having almost com¬ 
pletely deserted it. Very few canvasback fly up 
this route. The white-feathered, fish-feeding 
ducks seem to prefer it to any, as I meet hosts 
of these in all the lakes of this latitude in On¬ 
tario, pure migrants all of them. The nearest 
nesting birds of the mergansers and whistlers-— 
always excepting the hooded merganser, a 
local duck breeding all over this province—are 
to be found in Haliburton and Nippissing. 
There the goosander, or American merganser, 
breeds in limited numbers. Moose River, the Al¬ 
bany and the Equan, all emptying into Hudson 
Bay, are the regular breeding grounds of these 
white-feathered ducks. A friend of mine writ¬ 
ing from there remarks: “The most wonderful 
thing I note in all the great flocks of whistlers 
and buffleheads is the habit of standing on the 
ice; how these thin webbed feet can stand on the 
cold ice without freezing puzzles me. True, they 
often tuck both feet into the feathers and squat 
down; but I have watched a golden-eye drake 
for two hours. At long intervals he shifted from 
one foot to the other, tucking the unused one 
into his deep white coat. The day was pitifully 
cold, with a northwest wind; but this plump 
drake slept on as if he were in warm Muskeg 
Pond.” 
Note-books were pocketed, cameras boxed, 
the canoe launched, and Hawk and I sped away 
to see if the summer ducks were returning. 
Black ducks, the dusky mallard, jumped from 
every pond hole; hooded mergansers were found 
in many a creek as the silent canoe stole in; 
great green-headed drakes and yellow-mottled 
duck mallards rose quacking from the bogs; 
blue-winged teal were here in fair numbers. *We 
found a few bunches of pintails; but as they 
kept their flock formation, and did not seem to 
be mated, we judged they were only migrants. 
Only one solitary pair of wood-ducks were 
found; the glorious painted drake flashed like 
a miniature rainbow out of the marsh, making 
us regret the passing of this beautiful breed. 
Twenty miles were covered, miles of changing 
creek and bay and marsh. All over the wide 
waters of the lake great flocks of migrating 
ducks industriously fed, rising in huge masses 
as we returned to the point that held our lunch 
basket; on its closed cover as we approached 
could be seen a dark object. “Unke-kookosh” 
—groundhog—laughed the Mississauga. He 
was right, and the plump animal jumped off the 
uninjured basket just as our bow grated on the 
pebbles. 
It was now 5 o’clock, and the blue lake was 
rippled by the evening breeze and dotted by 
the dark bodies of the ducks. So while Hawk 
kindled a fire of fat pine knots, I lay behind 
the bough-house and pointed my camera lake- 
ward, calling, calling, calling to the circling, 
rustling host that swept by overhead and close 
in front. Oh, for a flock of decoys! Just as 
the wish was uttered, down settled four hand¬ 
some bluebills. Almost at once—no wonder, the 
air was full of birds—two more plumped in on 
the left. Three more birds, whistlers this time, 
alighted with wings spread to the southwest 
bre'eze within twenty-five feet of the shore. I 
could see Hawk through the corner of my eye. 
He had shielded the fire with some dead cedars 
and crouched near it motionless. One drake 
eyed the bough-house suspiciously. “Cling! 
clang!” rang out the camera. 
“Did you hit them?” asked the guide. 
“I did,” I called back, and I offer you the 
picture as proof. 
Bonnycastle Dale. 
English Pheasants in Illinois. 
Springfield, Ill., July 16. —Editor Forest and 
Stream: Your subscribers may be interested in 
a few facts relating to a recent consignment of 
5,500 English pheasant eggs imported by the 
Game Department of the State of Illinois from a 
preserve in England, and which were hatched at 
the State game propagating farm located twenty- 
three miles south of Springfield. The eggs were 
in transit from England to the game farm ten 
days. The following table shows the result of the 
consignment: 
Number broken in shipping from preserve 
in England to game farm. 8 
Number broken in unpacking, setting, and 
by hens .. 100 
Number not fertile. 809 
Number of rotten eggs.1,000 
Number crushed and killed by hens, one hen 
destroying twenty-two chicks that were 
placed with her. 583 
Number live, healthy chicks placed in runs 
with hens . 3,000 
Total .5,500 
We have also imported, this season, 135 Eng¬ 
lish ring neck pheasants from a large preserve 
in England, the birds arriving at the game farm 
about two weeks after leaving the preserve. Five 
birds were lost out of this entire consignment. 
We have at present on the game farm about 
8,000 young English ring neck and Chinese pheas¬ 
ants, beside a number of Mexican blue quail, a 
few wild turkeys and prairie chickens. Our 
native Bob White quail and those bought in Ala¬ 
bama, did not lay well in confinement, although 
we have a few settings under bantam hens at 
the present time. The Mexican blue quail laid 
fairly well in confinement, and we have a number 
of bevies hatched out by bantam hens. 
One hundred and sixty-two thousand resident 
and 500 non-resident hunters’ licenses were issued 
during the year ending June 1, 1906, in this State. 
, J. A. Wheeler, 
State Game Commissioner. 
“The lake was dotted by the dark bodies of the ducks.” 
