It nests in marsh or slough wherever it is undisturbed. The little ones, when hatched, soon reach shallow water, where they are perfectly at home. They swim about the sedge and water plants, catching insects, and when danger threatens keep concealed and sheltered by the herbage. They are often in peril, not only from hawks, owls, eagles, gulls, and herons, foxes, minks, and dogs, but they are attacked on all sides in their own element. Great frogs and fish spring to seize them with open mouths. Turtles prey upon them, and in the South alligators devour many. When a dog scents the little family in shoal waters and rushes in, the mother throws herself in his way and flutters off as if sorely wounded. While he chases her eagerly, his open mouth close to her tail, the little ones dive and swim away, more under water than above it, and, leaving the slough, crawl through the grass to the next refuge, hiding there safely until all danger is passed. Inherited experience has taught them the way of life, that their species may be perpetuated.
THE CANVASBACK
BLACK DUCKS
These birds were purposely flushed and taken on the first upward spring.
Long live the canvasback! His fame has gone farther, perhaps, than that of any other American game bird. Some epicures rank him above the little-neck, the lobster, or the terrapin, and he is considered a greater luxury than quail on toast. Yet the canvasback, when deprived of its favorite food, the wild celery, is hardly superior to the despised mud-hen. Wilson tells us that many years ago a vessel loaded with wheat was wrecked near Great Egg Harbor. The wheat floated out in quantities, and soon the bay was “covered” with a new kind of duck unknown to the local gunners. They had great sport for three weeks, shooting canvasbacks, and sold them for twenty-five cents a pair; but did not discover the particular excellence of their flesh. They finally learned what they were and that they might have disposed of them for four times the sum they had received.
Redheads, which feed to a great extent on wild celery, often appear on the table masquerading as canvasbacks. In one case, at least, the gunner sold to some innocent clerks a lot of fish-eating sheldrakes or mergansers under the name of canvasbacks. I am told that the dishes that resulted were about as palatable as a bundle of old stewed kerosene lampwicks.
No longer ago than 1850 canvasbacks hovered in interminable flocks about Chesapeake Bay. Over ten thousand people were accustomed to shoot there. These ducks were then plentiful in all first class restaurants and hotels of the East. The glories of Chesapeake Bay as a shooting ground have largely departed, and canvasback ducks are now rarely seen on tables where they formerly appeared often; but there is still a stock of breeding birds left, and with adequate protection it will be long before we see the last of the species. So far as I know, no one has as yet succeeded in breeding this bird in captivity. Therefore we cannot depend on artificial propagation; but must protect the stock of wild birds.
DUCKS SWIMMING ACROSS A BAY