DUCKS EVERYWHERE, FLUSHING FROM EVERY MARSHY POOL. From a photograph by Herbert K. Job. Illustration for "In Quest of the Canvasbock.

Transcription

1 DUCKS EVERYWHERE, FLUSHING FROM EVERY MARSHY POOL From a photograph by Herbert K. Job. Illustration for "In Quest of the Canvasbock."

2 IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK S By HERBERT K. JOB ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR LOWLY we are solving the problem of game bird propagation. The mallard and the quail, the ruffed grouse and the black duck yield themselves with fair readiness to hand-rearing. The canvasback, that favorite of the epicure, is a harder problem. Many have said that that shy bird would never flourish in captivity or come to maturity within the narrow confines of coop or breeding pen. Last summer Mr. Job made a long journey to Lake Winnepegosis to test the soundness of this belief. He succeeded so far as the initial stages were concerned. He found the eggs, hatched the young birds, and brought them back in safety. It remains for the future to show how captivity will affect them ultimately. ANY a man has gone hunting for canvasbacks, elusive and almost vanishing wild fowl, and has found only hunting. Before we started out on our five-thousand-mile jaunt we made pretty certain that there would be something besides hunting. A year before the writer had made a beginning at a rather novel sort of pursuit. With the co-operation of the United States Government and of the Canadian authorities I was enabled to undertake experiments in the propagation of native American wild fowl. Encamped at Lake Manitoba, northwest Canada, we gathered and hatched out eggs of ten species of wild ducks, raised a large proportion of the young, and brought back about one hundred of them for breeding stock in experiments which are now under way. We were late in getting located, and unfortunately the canvasbacks, which are early breeders, had all hatched. This species was the most interesting and important of all, and it has never been known to breed in captivity. We were allowed to try it again this year, especially with a view to securing young canvasbacks and of studying other species. The question was where to conduct the hunt. The prime requisite was to find a canvasback breeding country. Where there were canvasbacks there could hardly fail to be also other kinds of ducks. It was well we began inquiries the au- Copyright, 1914, by Outing Publishing Co. All rights reserved. [515]

3 516 OUTING YOUNG MALLARD YOUNG SHOVELLER OR SPOONBILL YOUNG AMERICAN COOTS OR MUD-HENS tumn before, because we barely got satisfactory information before it was nearly time to start. It was to be Lake Winnipegosis, in the unsurveyed wilderness of northern Manitoba. Even thus we had to go partly on faith, for during the long period while the ice is softening the few isolated inhabitants up the lake have no communication with the outside world. From all accounts, though, it was a typical breeding resort of the canvasback, where for miles tall canes and rushes grow out of the water in the interminable marsh and muskeg a paradise for such as like that sort of thing. We made it a Government expedition, a party of four. A. C. Bent, the ornithologist, was one member, representing the Smithsonian Institution, securing material for the Government work on "Life Histories of North American Birds." Assisting him was F. S. Hersey, of Taunton, Mass. My assistant was my son, G. Curtiss Job, senior in Yale University, who took part in the previous expedition. The twenty-ninth of May found us at the terminus of the railroad, a typical forlorn little Western town. Out yonder was something more to the point, the great sparkling Lake Winnipegosis, stretching away like an ocean, some 140 miles to the north, teeming with interest and adventure. It did not take us long to find a man who had a good able schooner with plenty of room to take us up the lake. Into it we dumped an astonishing amount of stuff, including incubators, brooders, photographic outfits, duck feed, and so on. We set sail on this breezy adventure with no exact destination in view but to size up the country and camp in some convenient place, preferably near some human being. Evening found us far off in the solitudes. A border of marsh about a mile wide extended along the lake shore, back of which was the unbroken, unsurveyed wilderness of poplar forest, with an occasional bunch of spruce raising dark, pointed spires above the paler green of the opening poplar foliage. Spring had only recently come, for the ice in the lake had disappeared only the week before. The fresh breeze that had sent us flying and plunging had quieted to a

4 IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 517 mere breath, and the treacherous lake had suddenly changed from rolling hills to a mirror. The first sign that we had observed of human occupancy lay before us, a white-washed log-house just back from the shore, belonging to a French family, the only white settlers in that whole region. The place looked neat and attractive, lighted up by the feeble rays of the setting sun. The location was a sort of knoll or island in the great marsh, poplar and willow groves on each side, respectively, backed by the strip of marsh and then the poplar forest. There were several buildings, some stables, and a huge wood-pile, the latter especially a sign of thrift. Other things being equal, we preferred to live with whites rather than Indians, so we stopped to prospect. Driving off the band of savage dogs, we located the owner in the barnyard, an elderly Frenchman, fairly bubbling over with humor and good-nature. "Why, yes! Delighted!" And so forth. We found that next day his son and family were to move to town, vacating a three-room log cabin on the premises, just what we wanted. Supper was ready, of a sort that convinced us that the mistress, with her appetizing French cooking, would make vast improvement on our happy-golucky camp provender. We surrendered then and there, and next day found us duly installed. That first morning we were up with the birds and out to see them. Two minutes' walk from camp we had to pull up our long wading-boots. Immediately we were in the haunts of the ducks, and in next to no time we were seeing canvasbacks, redheads, ruddies, golden-eyes, mallards, teal, and various other waterbirds, particularly the black tern, which was everywhere, and proved to be the most abundant bird of the region. Back in the woods we found a great migration of warblers and many other small birds in progress. Moose droppings were scattered all about, as though it were a moose barnyard. Ruffed grouse were drumming incessantly in various directions. Indeed, there was so much to see that it was hard work to stop for breakfast. We soon discovered that the nests of YELLOWLEGS IN POOL AN ADULT CANVASBACK AND TWO YOUNG YOUNG LOON

5 518 OUTING the ducks were exceedingly hard to find, scattered over so vast an area. There were, however, certain especially favorable localities within reach by boat, where the ducks were rather more congested in numbers. One was a few miles farther up the lake, at the entrance of a river which flowed out to another lake at that point. Fortunately for us an unmarried son who was staying there had a large gasoline boat with a cabin, suitable for cruising. We made arrangement with him to take us to various localities of interest. Next day we made with him our first determined hunt for ducks' nests, in the marshes at the river entrance. Where we first started in was a forest of tall canes growing out of quite deep water. The marshes were still yellow and brown, as the new growth had not yet appeared. Here we met a large colony of the singular loonlike Western grebe. Their nests were soggy piles of dead stems, hidden among the dense growth. Finding that progress in this maze of canes, in water too deep to wade, was very slow, we crossed the river to where it was more of an open meadowy country, with firmer footing. With us was Joseph, a young Frenchman who worked for our host, strong and active, a great hunter. The rest of us landed to hunt the meadow, while Joseph preferred to push the canoe through areas of cat-tails. Striking off for myself, I beat through grass and patches of weeds. Then I came to a small, dry elevation or island in the marsh, overgrown with long grass, weeds, and some low bushes, a typical place, thought I, for a duck's nest. Right I was. A big cluck suddenly fluttered from beneath a rose bush, right at my feet. First I made sure of the species, a mallard. Then I found myself on my knees, gloating over the first cluck's nest of the trip, a fine set of ten eggs. My friends found another mallard's nest with eight eggs, in a layer of drift-wood out in the meadow, washed up by some storm. Taking our eggs back to the boat, we found that Joseph had discovered a canvasback's nest out in the water among the cat-tails, containing seven eggs, two of which had been laid by a redhead. It DUCKS FLUSHING FROM SMALL SLOUGH

6 WILD DUCKS SPRINGING FROM A POOL IN THE MARSH is quite common for ducks of similar species to lay in each other's nests. Our "chasseur intrepid," as we nicknamed him, much to his gratification, had also found a number of nests of the American coot or mudhen, and of Holboell's, horned, and pied-billed grebes. Besides (he ducks' eggs I also took some of the coots', being minded to try to raise some of these quaint birds. I wrapped the eggs warmly in woolen cloth and put them in a pail, surrounded by a rubber cloth. That evening when I transferred them to the incubator they were still warm. Another locality that was a notable breeding-ground of ducks was across the arm of the lake from us and farther up, a region of alkali marsh and shallow pools. A family of half-breeds lived there, and next day one of them, a young man, came over to our camp in a small boat. Already it was nearly hatching time for the canvasbacks, and we were anxious to find nests at once. The youth thought that he and his family could help us, and said that they would try. Next day, June 2, we explored a part of this marsh on our own hook. It proved a wonderful place for bird-life. In and around the muddy pools were many flocks of shore-birds, still migrating North sandpipers, plovers, turnstones, yellowlegs, phalaropes, and others about which I could write pages. One of the most interesting shore-birds was a single Hudsonian godwit, a rare bird these days. Ducks also dotted the ponds, either in pairs or parties of males whose mates were incubating somewhere how I wished I knew definitely! There were pintails, mallards, shovellers, lesser scaups or broadbills, greenwinged and blue-winged teal in fair numbers. I saw also several gadwalls or gray ducks, and one beautiful male baldpate or American widgeon. The ducks of the canvasback type prefer the deeper reedy sloughs. Here and there on the marsh were small wooded islands or "bluffs," covered with poplar, oak, or spruce. On one of these we noticed a hollow stub, and found in it, down almost to the ground, seven large green eggs of the American golden-eye or whistler, a most interesting duck which I desired particularly to study. A few rods farther on was another low stub with eight eggs of this species, and in another bluff, a mile farther, we found another set of seven. On our return we learned that Joseph had found us ten more goldeneyes' eggs, in a stub at the edge of the poplar forest back of camp. It was cer- [519]

7 520 OUTING YOUNG GOLDEN-EYE, NEARLY FLEDGED, SHOWING LAST TRACE OF THE WHITE DOWNY PATCH ON FACE tainly "golden-eye day." We did not find any more ducks' nests this time, though once I thought I had. Suddenly a large bird jumped from the grass right between my feet, and went springing and running away through the grass and weeds. It proved to be a sharp-tailed grouse or prairie chicken and a nest with thirteen eggs. Two days later, as we returned late at night from a long, interesting boat trip away up the lake, we learned that the half-breeds had sent over word that they had found a number of canvasback nests, and that some of the eggs were nearly hatched, so we had better come right away. The weather next day was threatening, but we dared not wait. Landing on the marsh, our guide first took me to a pintail's nest, eight eggs, on a little "island" in the marsh, just back from the edge. At this time the wind suddenly backed from southeast to northeast, piping up harder every minute, and starting into rain. In half an hour it was blowing a gale and raining hard, the worst possible conditions for gathering eggs. However, I thought we had better try to carry the thing through, now we were out there. We had hard work getting aboard the power-boat by the canoe without capsizing, but we made it, and ran up the lake a couple of miles farther and into the entrance of a small creek, opposite a rounded bluff of poplar which marked the most wonderful canvasback breedingground I had ever seen. I was almost in a daze of bewilderment and excitement as the two guides took us from nest to nest. Two were redheads', built out over deep water among the last year's cat-tails and rushes, where these had been broken down by the snow. They contained nine and fourteen eggs. The large set, I found later, were laid by two birds, as five of the eggs hatched a week after the rest. One other nest was a mallard's, but all the rest were canvasbacks'. In every case the female canvasback was sheltering her eggs from the rain. Usually they flew directly off when we were ten or twelve paces away. At the third nest the duck stuck to her task. The splendid creature lay flat on the nest, with neck extended toward us, snake-like. Her peculiar bill, tapering to a point, and her dark eyes, conspicuous amid the lighter brown plumage of the head, gave her a singularly weird appearance. She flew with great reluctance when we were very close. No wonder her ten eggs were all pipped. Every one of them hatched that night in the incubator, the first of our afterwards numerous family. The nesting location chosen by these canvasbacks was peculiar. Instead of being, as is more usual, placed in clumps of reeds or rushes or areas of these out in the lake or slough, in every case but one those now examined were built back YOUNG CANVASBACKS

8 IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 521 from small, shallow pools in the marsh, from one to five yards from the edge, in continuous areas of a peculiar sedge. It was last season's growth, only about waist-high, in shallow water and on firm bottom, distinguished by a three-cornered stem. The nest was a mound of dead stems of the sedge, built up almost towerlike, in some cases over a foot above the water. The sedge all around in a circle was pulled up or trampled down, leaving the nest in a little open pond several feet wide, without anything to conceal it, for it was visible from some little distance as one waded about. The one exception was a nest of this type, built in an area of broken-down cat-tails. The eggs we took were quickly wrapped and put under waterproof in a pail, as before. When we had made the rounds, the last part in a canoe to a redhead's nest, the wind was so violent that we were unable to force the canoe back to the power-boat. They, too, were hardly able to drive out of the creek against the gale, but finally they came around to meet us. When we finally got aboard the captain declared it would be impossible to land at camp on account of the surf. I made such a fuss about spoiling those priceless eggs that he consented to try. We had an exciting run to leeward, down those miles of white, turbulent water. Near camp we found a slight projection of reeds and marsh that made enough of a shelter to get ashore. I was relieved to find the eggs still warm when I put them into the machine. That YOUNG GADWALL YOUNG LESSER SCAUP OR BLUEBILL they were not injured was shown by the outcome, for within ten days nearly every one had hatched. Meanwhile a place had to be provided for the raising of our increasing family. The dogs had killed all the poultry our hosts had tried to keep. So we cut posts in the woods, and, with a roll of wire fencing, we built a fine large pen on the only dry and level spot of land which was available, right in front of our cabin. The ducklings hatched splendidly and did well, and before long our capacity was taxed. The yard was laid out like a little city. We had four brooders in a row, each with its own yard. Beyond these yards was "Broadway." Then came two square pens, occupying the width of the four brooders, and beyond these were two more of the same size, eight divisions in all. Each of the four larger sections had a coop made out of a large packing-case. When the ducks in the brooders got to be about six weeks old, and were getting quite a bit feathered, we graduated them to the box coops. In the end we had over two hundred young ducks, divided about equally, averaging about twenty-five to a pen. At first we sometimes had to keep fifty or sixty in a brooder till some new ones arrived, but found this undesirable. The smaller ones got trampled and kept away from the food, and some would get killed or

9 522 OUTING become stunted in growth. We had to use incubators, for want of hens to sit. The hatch, to be sure, was splendid, averaging for the season the same exactly as the year before 92 per cent. Nevertheless, the ideal way would be with bantams, so that each brood could have the care of a mother, and range around with her, instead of having to be shut up in a small yard, which soon became foul. We had no chance here to change ground, and later there was some loss, when the ducklings were half grown, from the "going light" trouble, which in this case was evidently caused by foul ground. By bringing in fresh sand from time to time we minimized the difficulty. The rearing was much the same as in low rapidly fades as they grow older. They closely resemble the young redheads. The olive of the back, however, is slightly darker, and the shape of the bill is different, but less so at first. One has to look sharp to distinguish these species. By nature the young canvasback is peculiarly shy. They are quite tame at first if handled gently, but become shyer as they grow older. The redhead, though so similar, seems to be a tamer bird than the other. Usually they eat readily out of one's hand, while the canvasback seldom does. With the canvasback a fright seems to have lasting effect. A batch of twenty-four at one time were frightened by some quick motions of the attendant and never got FEEDING THE YOUNG CORMORANTS ON THE SHORE OF LAKE WINNIPEGOSIS our work the year before. This time, however, I was delighted to have a splendid lot of young canvasbacks. These thrived on the same food as the other ducklings. Later they seemed rather more susceptible to trouble from fouled ground than the other species. The little canvasbacks at first are covered with a yellowish down, with darker olive blotches on the upper parts. The yelover it. Any sudden approach would send them racing and trampling one another in senseless panic. They are awkward birds on land, their legs being set far "aft." Probably they need access to water earlier than most kinds. We could not pen them, however, on the lake shore, owing to the great changes in level during storms. Young ducks need green food, and it

10 IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 523 was hard to provide this in sufficient quantity, till one day the assistant, in a trip across the lake, discovered a large concourse of ducks in an area of waterplants growing up from the bottom of the lake. This proved to be wild celery, on which the ducks were feeding. He brought back a boat-load of it, and the thoroughly confident that I could surely get back. I always managed to somehow, though at times belated. It is no fun alone in a wilderness fussing with a balky engine out on a turbulent lake in a squall! When the nesting season was over, by the middle of July at the latest, and DUCKS JUMPING FROM THE GRASS ducklings, though they had never seen any, pitched into it with the greatest eagerness. Hereafter they had it one feed every day, or had it by them in pans of water. I noticed this, too, that the canvasback, in common with the other allied species like the redhead and scaup, are slower in feathering than the ordinary ducks. The pintail, for instance, shows feathers on the sides at three weeks, and is able to fly at ten to eleven weeks. The canvasback shows no trace of feathering under four weeks, and even at twelve weeks the flight feathers are still immature. After we had been out there about a month we were able to hire a small open gasoline boat for the rest of the season. We all learned to run it, and had exciting times scouring around that squally lake, with some pretty close calls. I knew precious little about machinery, and when I ran it off alone a dozen miles farther into the wilds I never felt the broods of young ducks were about in the grass and swimming in the sloughs, a new sporting era dawned. It was now the game to catch the sly little skulkers. If anyone thinks it easy, I should enjoy seeing him try! As soon as they catch sight of an intruder the brood puts for the tangle of weeds and grass. All kinds can dive like witches, and some can tire out the strongest man even out in the open water. It is hard to do much alone. One day I was lucky enough to catch by myself five young gad walls. The best way, I found, was to get the half-breeds across the lake to organize a hunt with me. When we saw a brood in the slough every man of us raced for them, go-asyou-please. Into the slough we would plunge, waist to breast deep, being dressed for it. If the youngsters dove we tried to grab them as they swam past us under water. If they took to the grass we tried to seize them before they hid, or else hunt them out as they

11 524 OUTING skulked, sometimes under water in the tangle, all but their bills. It had to be quick work; to hesitate for a second was to be lost. The best sport of all was to chase young canvasbacks with the power-boat out on the lake. With a party of halfbreeds or Indians aboard and two canoes in tow, I would run along the shore, just outside the weeds. If we succeeded in heading a brood out into open water, the Indians took to their canoes. Each of the three parties would then select a young duck and follow it up. The chase was nearly hopeless save on perfectly calm days, which were few and far between. For thirty to sixty minutes the pursued would try all sorts of aquatic tricks swim, skitter, dive, or skulk with bill only out of water. When tired it would make for the weeds, and it took keen and vigorous work to head it off. If all ruses failed, and the canvasback finally began to get winded, its appearances would become more and more frequent, and at last it would sit resignedly on the water and allow itself to be picked up. For my part of the chase I would keep the power-boat circling about the elusive creature till one of the canoes came to my assistance. One day I was watching four Indians in two canoes chase a nearly full-grown young canvasback. After nearly an hour's pursuit the bird made for shore, but would not land, as there were no weeds. The canoes closed in on it just off the pebbly beach. Every time it came up they shouted to scare it and grabbed for it, sometimes pitching it out of water with their paddles, as the water was shallow, almost upsetting the canoes in their excitement. I was excited, too, and stood up in the stern as I circled about, and yelled encouragement. Finally an Indian seized the canvasback, and I had a splendid bird to add to the stock. In a few days it was as tame as the rest. Three whole months we spent, profitably and pleasantly, out there in the wilderness studying birds and wild fowl. We had a little world all to ourselves, except when some roving Indians landed to look at the ducks, reminding us that there were others. We nicknamed the place "the Garden of Eden." At last most of the young ducks were full grown. The latest species to breed was the scaup, and even these little darkcolored puff-balls were over a month old and were getting feathers. We had a thriving family of full two hundred, comprising the following eleven species: Canvasback, redhead, lesser scaup or bluebill, American golden-eye or whistler, pintail, mallard, shoveller or spoonbill, gadwall or gray duck, green-winged and blue-winged teal, and American coot or mudhen. All did well except the golden-eye, which proved to be a peculiar species, yet very interesting. The young are black and white, closely resembling in many ways the young scoters which we tried to rear the preceding season. They required a special diet, and week after week would hardly grow perceptibly, till they became mere runts. We raised three to full plumage, but even these finally succumbed after reaching home, Back to the World One calm evening, the 24th of August, we loaded twelve crates with 200 ducks aboard the large power-boat, bade affectionate farewells to our kind friends, and were off. I shall never forget the tumult of my emotions as that familiar, lonely shore faded away in the deepening twilight. We were returning to a larger life, but leaving, I could not but know, a great gap in the lives of these worthy, lonely pioneers of the vast Canadian wilderness. Late that night, under brilliant moonlight, we glided into civilization. It was well we had taken advantage of the calm spell between the frequent autumnal gales, for in the morning the treacherous lake was again lumpy with its breaking swells. Loading the crates of ducks into the express car, we were soon off on the long journey of nearly five days' continuous travel. The assistant and I fed and watered the ducks and tried to keep them dry and clean a hard proposition. We roughed it in a colonist car and ate fiveminute lunches, our train having no other facilities. Part of the way the ducks had for company a consignment

12 IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 525 of foxes for a fur farm. Ducks and foxes eyed and smelled one another across the aisle tantalizing, truly, for the latter. The sights, sounds, and smells of that car worried the unfortunate express agent and astonished the natives as we passed through, All things come to an end, and at last, thank Heaven, I landed my numerous children, all but ten, safely at their destination in Connecticut. They are good ducks, if I do say so. docile and obedient, willing to be experimented upon. Anyhow, I cannot help feeling fatherly toward them. I hope they may duly multiply and help to replenish the earth in our eastern districts so woefully lacking in these splendid wild fowl. IF YOU HAVE TIME THIS IS THE BEST WAY TO BUILD A COOKING FIRE OUT OF DOORS WHEN COLD WEATHER CALLS FOR ECONOMY OF HEAT