676 The Outing Magazine 
was the middle of June, and unfortunately 
the eggs had all hatched, save for a few 
which had spoiled and had remained in the 
nests. The young, as usual, were secure- 
ly hidden in the grass, save in one nest 
which afforded a most interesting specta- 
cle. There was an unhatched egg; by it was 
an empty egg-shell, out of which the wet, 
slimy little avocet had just crawled; an- 
other youngster, all dried off, was still in the 
nest and looked very pretty; just outside 
was the eldest of the family, already mak- 
ing off to the conventional hiding place in 
the grass. As I examined and _ photo- 
graphed them, the anxious parents were 
outdoing themselves in the perfectly war- 
rantable display of their strong emotions. 
They had chosen their nesting site in a very 
interesting and populous center, for, be- 
sides other avocets’ nests, there were within 
a few rods a nest and eggs each of the mal- 
lard, pintail, gadwall and blue-winged teal. 
The mallard’s nest was only a few feet 
away, back in the grass, but evidently there 
was no discord between these somewhat 
dissimilar bird neighbors. 
This island with its ponds proved to be 
a fine place also for a study of the avo- 
cet’s congenors, the willet and the Wil- 
son’s phalarope. The willet, well known to 
sportsmen, is a grayish bird, a little smaller 
than the avocet, and likewise long of bill 
and legs, but more widely distributed over 
the United States. It breeds also in the 
far south, and I have found them nesting 
in colonies on sandy islands off the southern 
coasts of the United States. And here, 
away up in the Canadian Northwest, was 
the old familiar, inquisitive, vociferous ac- 
quaintance, the very same, though its 
plumage is a mere shade lighter, and scien- 
tists call it the western willet. 
The nest is built in some tussock of thick 
grass, and it is next to impossible to find it, 
unless one happens to surprise the female 
on thenest. Often, though, by his scream- 
ing, the male warns her off, and then one 
may as well abandon the search. But if 
one finds the nest and returns to it some 
other time opportunely before the alarm 
is given, the female will sit very close and 
allow one almost to touch her before she 
flutters out. 
In the nesting season, when the young 
are not very near and in no immediate dan- 
ger, the willet becomes almost companion- 
able. To be sure he is spying on us, but he 
is not by any means “impossible,” since 
he abates his angry dashes at one’s head 
and to some extent his scream about “ pill- 
willy-willet,’’ and simply follows the in- 
truder to make sure that he behaves him- 
self. Wherever we go, unless it be too far 
back on the dry prairie, it is likely that a 
willet will comprise part of the scenery, 
trotting along through the grass or on the 
shore of the pool, making a pretense at feed- 
ing, but always keeping his weather-eye 
open. But if, at length, we unwittingly 
come too near the place where the young 
are in hiding, there is sure to be renewed 
trouble. Both the willets will be every- 
where, dashing at us, scurrying about in the 
grass, or alighting on the nearest bush, 
withal never forgetting to vociferate. How- 
ever, in spite of all the abuse which the 
willets have lavished upon me, I am free to 
confess that I love them still, the saucy, 
impudent things! 
Very different in temperament is the 
small but interesting Wilson’s phalarope, a 
bird about as large as a medium-sized sand- 
piper. It is very common in nearly all 
parts of the northwestern prairies wherever 
there are grassy pools or sloughs. It is a 
quiet, beautiful little bird, with no im- 
modest outcries, feeding prettily along the 
moist margins of the sloughs, and not dis- 
tressing itself over our presence. From 
nearly every standpoint this phalarope— 
like all the other species of its class—is 
an anomaly among the birds. Apparently 
a land bird, it has partially webbed or 
scalloped feet and is a good and graceful 
swimmer. The female is the larger and 
handsomer of the pair; she does the court- 
ing, and he most of the subsequent incu- 
bation and nursery work. He is duly 
meek and obedient, as becomes the hus- 
band of an Amazon; for so worthy and 
strenuous a young female as she will not 
tolerate a buck hanging around idle when 
there is plenty of useful work to be done. 
For her part, to lay eggs so big that the 
chicks are clothed and able to run at birth 
is all that should reasonably be expected of 
her. Their marital relations are otherwise 
scandalous, from our point of view. Two 
or three idle, vainglorious females are often 
seen devoting themselves to one little male 
at the height of the nesting season, and no 
one seems to be sure whether or not he is 
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