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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. Thecanvasback, that favorite of the epicure, is a harder problem.Many have said that that shy bird would never flourish in captivityor come to maturity within the narrow confines of coop or breed-ing pen. Last summer Mr. Job made a long journey to LakeWinnepegosis to test the soundness of this belief. He succeededso far as the initial stages were concerned. He found the eggs,hatched the young birds, and brought them back in safety. Itremains for the future to show how captivity will affect themultimately.

ANY a man has gonehunting for canvasbacks,elusive and almost vanish-ing wild fowl, and hasfound only hunting. Be-fore we started out on our

five-thousand-mile jaunt we made prettycertain that there would be somethingbesides hunting.

A year before the writer had made abeginning at a rather novel sort of pur-suit. With the co-operation of theUnited States Government and of theCanadian authorities I was enabled toundertake experiments in the propaga-tion of native American wild fowl. En-camped at Lake Manitoba, northwestCanada, we gathered and hatched outeggs of ten species of wild ducks, raised

a large proportion of the young, andbrought back about one hundred of themfor breeding stock in experiments whichare now under way. We were late ingetting located, and unfortunately thecanvasbacks, which are early breeders,had all hatched. This species was themost interesting and important of all,and it has never been known to breedin captivity. We were allowed to try itagain this year, especially with a view tosecuring young canvasbacks and of study-ing other species. The question waswhere to conduct the hunt. The primerequisite was to find a canvasback breed-ing country. Where there were canvas-backs there could hardly fail to be alsoother kinds of ducks.

It was well we began inquiries the au-

Copyright, 1914, by Outing Publishing Co. All rights reserved.

ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR

By HERBERT K. JOB

IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK

S

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516 OUTING

YOUNG MALLARD

YOUNG SHOVELLER OR SPOONBILL

YOUNG AMERICAN COOTS OR MUD-HENS

tumn before, because we barely got sat-isfactory information before it was nearlytime to start. It was to be Lake Winni-pegosis, in the unsurveyed wilderness ofnorthern Manitoba. Even thus we hadto go partly on faith, for during the longperiod while the ice is softening the fewisolated inhabitants up the lake have nocommunication with the outside world.From all accounts, though, it was a typ-ical breeding resort of the canvasback,where for miles tall canes and rushesgrow out of the water in the intermi-nable marsh and muskeg—a paradise forsuch as like that sort of thing.

We made it a Government expedi-tion, a party of four. A. C. Bent, theornithologist, was one member, repre-senting the Smithsonian Institution, se-curing material for the Governmentwork on "Life Histories of North Amer-ican Birds." Assisting him was F. S.Hersey, of Taunton, Mass. My assist-ant was my son, G. Curtiss Job, senior inYale University, who took part in theprevious expedition.

The twenty-ninth of May found us atthe terminus of the railroad, a typicalforlorn little Western town. Out yon-der was something more to the point, thegreat sparkling Lake Winnipegosis,stretching away like an ocean, some 140miles to the north, teeming with interestand adventure. It did not take us longto find a man who had a good ableschooner with plenty of room to take usup the lake. Into it we dumped an as-tonishing amount of stuff, including in-cubators, brooders, photographic outfits,duck feed, and so on. We set sail onthis breezy adventure with no exact des-tination in view but to size up the coun-try and camp in some convenient place,preferably near some human being.

Evening found us far off in the soli-tudes. A border of marsh about a milewide extended along the lake shore, backof which was the unbroken, unsurveyedwilderness of poplar forest, with an occa-sional bunch of spruce raising dark,pointed spires above the paler green ofthe opening poplar foliage. Spring hadonly recently come, for the ice in thelake had disappeared only the week be-fore. The fresh breeze that had sent usflying and plunging had quieted to a

IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 517

mere breath, and the treacherous lakehad suddenly changed from rolling hillsto a mirror. The first sign that we hadobserved of human occupancy lay beforeus, a white-washed log-house just backfrom the shore, belonging to a Frenchfamily, the only white settlers in thatwhole region. The place looked neatand attractive, lighted up by the feeblerays of the setting sun. The locationwas a sort of knoll or island in the greatmarsh, poplar and willow groves on eachside, respectively, backed by the strip ofmarsh and then the poplar forest. Therewere several buildings, some stables, anda huge wood-pile, the latter especially asign of thrift.

Other things being equal, we preferredto live with whites rather than Indians,so we stopped to prospect. Driving offthe band of savage dogs, we located theowner in the barnyard, an elderlyFrenchman, fairly bubbling over withhumor and good-nature. "Why, yes!Delighted!" And so forth. We foundthat next day his son and family were tomove to town, vacating a three-room logcabin on the premises, just what wewanted. Supper was ready, of a sortthat convinced us that the mistress, withher appetizing French cooking, wouldmake vast improvement on our happy-go-lucky camp provender. We surrenderedthen and there, and next day found usduly installed.

That first morning we were up withthe birds and out to see them. Two min-utes' walk from camp we had to pull upour long wading-boots. Immediatelywe were in the haunts of the ducks, andin next to no time we were seeing can-vasbacks, redheads, ruddies, golden-eyes,mallards, teal, and various other water-birds, particularly the black tern, whichwas everywhere, and proved to be themost abundant bird of the region. Backin the woods we found a great migrationof warblers and many other small birdsin progress. Moose droppings were scat-tered all about, as though it were amoose barnyard. Ruffed grouse weredrumming incessantly in various direc-tions. Indeed, there was so much to seethat it was hard work to stop for break-fast.

We soon discovered that the nests of

YELLOWLEGS IN POOL

AN ADULT CANVASBACK AND TWOYOUNG

YOUNG LOON

518 OUTING

the ducks were exceedingly hard to find,scattered over so vast an area. Therewere, however, certain especially favor-able localities within reach by boat,where the ducks were rather more con-gested in numbers. One was a fewmiles farther up the lake, at the entranceof a river which flowed out to anotherlake at that point. Fortunately for usan unmarried son who was staying therehad a large gasoline boat with a cabin,suitable for cruising. We made arrange-ment with him to take us to various lo-calities of interest. Next day we madewith him our first determined hunt forducks' nests, in the marshes at the riverentrance. Where we first started in wasa forest of tall canes growing out ofquite deep water. The marshes werestill yellow and brown, as the newgrowth had not yet appeared. Here wemet a large colony of the singular loon-like Western grebe. Their nests weresoggy piles of dead stems, hidden amongthe dense growth.

Finding that progress in this maze ofcanes, in water too deep to wade, wasvery slow, we crossed the river to where

it was more of an open meadowy coun-try, with firmer footing. With us wasJoseph, a young Frenchman who workedfor our host, strong and active, a greathunter. The rest of us landed to huntthe meadow, while Joseph preferred topush the canoe through areas of cat-tails.Striking off for myself, I beat throughgrass and patches of weeds. Then Icame to a small, dry elevation or islandin the marsh, overgrown with longgrass, weeds, and some low bushes, atypical place, thought I, for a duck's nest.Right I was. A big cluck suddenly flut-tered from beneath a rose bush, right atmy feet. First I made sure of the spe-cies, a mallard. Then I found myselfon my knees, gloating over the firstcluck's nest of the trip, a fine set of teneggs. My friends found another mal-lard's nest with eight eggs, in a layerof drift-wood out in the meadow,washed up by some storm.

Taking our eggs back to the boat, wefound that Joseph had discovered a can-vasback's nest out in the water amongthe cat-tails, containing seven eggs, twoof which had been laid by a redhead. It

DUCKS FLUSHING FROM SMALL SLOUGH

WILD DUCKS SPRINGING FROM A POOL IN THE MARSH

is quite common for ducks of similarspecies to lay in each other's nests. Our"chasseur intrepid," as we nicknamedhim, much to his gratification, had alsofound a number of nests of the Ameri-can coot or mudhen, and of Holboell's,horned, and pied-billed grebes. Besides(he ducks' eggs I also took some of thecoots', being minded to try to raise someof these quaint birds. I wrapped theeggs warmly in woolen cloth and putthem in a pail, surrounded by a rubbercloth. That evening when I transferredthem to the incubator they were stillwarm.

Another locality that was a notablebreeding-ground of ducks was across thearm of the lake from us and farther up,a region of alkali marsh and shallowpools. A family of half-breeds livedthere, and next day one of them, a youngman, came over to our camp in a smallboat. Already it was nearly hatchingtime for the canvasbacks, and we wereanxious to find nests at once. Theyouth thought that he and his familycould help us, and said that they wouldtry.

Next day, June 2, we explored a partof this marsh on our own hook. Itproved a wonderful place for bird-life.In and around the muddy pools weremany flocks of shore-birds, still migra-

ting North—sandpipers, plovers, turn-stones, yellowlegs, phalaropes, and oth-ers—about which I could write pages.One of the most interesting shore-birdswas a single Hudsonian godwit, a rarebird these days. Ducks also dotted theponds, either in pairs or parties of maleswhose mates were incubating somewhere—how I wished I knew definitely!There were pintails, mallards, shovel-lers, lesser scaups or broadbills, green-winged and blue-winged teal in fairnumbers. I saw also several gadwallsor gray ducks, and one beautiful malebaldpate or American widgeon. Theducks of the canvasback type prefer thedeeper reedy sloughs.

Here and there on the marsh weresmall wooded islands or "bluffs," cov-ered with poplar, oak, or spruce. Onone of these we noticed a hollow stub,and found in it, down almost to theground, seven large green eggs of theAmerican golden-eye or whistler, a mostinteresting duck which I desired partic-ularly to study. A few rods fartheron was another low stub with eight eggsof this species, and in another bluff, amile farther, we found another set ofseven. On our return we learned thatJoseph had found us ten more golden-eyes' eggs, in a stub at the edge of thepoplar forest back of camp. It was cer-

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tainly "golden-eye day." We did notfind any more ducks' nests this time,though once I thought I had. Suddenlya large bird jumped from the grass rightbetween my feet, and went springingand running away through the grass andweeds. It proved to be a sharp-tailedgrouse or prairie chicken and a nest withthirteen eggs.

Two days later, as we returned lateat night from a long, interesting boattrip away up the lake, we learned thatthe half-breeds had sent over word thatthey had found a number of canvasbacknests, and that some of the eggs werenearly hatched, so we had better comeright away. The weather next day wasthreatening, but we dared not wait.Landing on the marsh, our guide firsttook me to a pintail's nest, eight eggs,on a little "island" in the marsh, justback from the edge. At this time thewind suddenly backed from southeast tonortheast, piping up harder every minute,and starting into rain. In half an hourit was blowing a gale and raining hard,the worst possible conditions for gath-ering eggs. However, I thought we hadbetter try to carry the thing through,now we were out there.

We had hard work getting aboard thepower-boat by the canoe without capsiz-ing, but we made it, and ran up thelake a couple of miles farther and intothe entrance of a small creek, opposite

a rounded bluff of poplar which markedthe most wonderful canvasback breeding-ground I had ever seen. I was almostin a daze of bewilderment and excite-ment as the two guides took us fromnest to nest. Two were redheads', builtout over deep water among the lastyear's cat-tails and rushes, where thesehad been broken down by the snow.They contained nine and fourteen eggs.The large set, I found later, were laidby two birds, as five of the eggs hatcheda week after the rest. One other nestwas a mallard's, but all the rest werecanvasbacks'.

In every case the female canvasbackwas sheltering her eggs from the rain.Usually they flew directly off when wewere ten or twelve paces away. At thethird nest the duck stuck to her task.The splendid creature lay flat on thenest, with neck extended toward us,snake-like. Her peculiar bill, taperingto a point, and her dark eyes, conspicu-ous amid the lighter brown plumage ofthe head, gave her a singularly weirdappearance. She flew with great reluc-tance when we were very close. Nowonder her ten eggs were all pipped.Every one of them hatched that nightin the incubator, the first of our after-wards numerous family.

The nesting location chosen by thesecanvasbacks was peculiar. Instead ofbeing, as is more usual, placed in clumpsof reeds or rushes or areas of these outin the lake or slough, in every case butone those now examined were built back

YOUNG CANVASBACKS

YOUNG GOLDEN-EYE, NEARLY FLEDGED,SHOWING LAST TRACE OF THE

WHITE DOWNY PATCH ON FACE

IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 521

from small, shallow pools in the marsh,from one to five yards from the edge, incontinuous areas of a peculiar sedge. Itwas last season's growth, only aboutwaist-high, in shallow water and on firmbottom, distinguished by a three-corneredstem. The nest was a mound of deadstems of the sedge, built up almost tower-like, in some cases over a foot above thewater. The sedge all around in a circlewas pulled up or trampled down, leavingthe nest in a little open pond severalfeet wide, without anything to concealit, for it was visible from some little dis-tance as one waded about. The one ex-ception was a nest of this type, built inan area of broken-down cat-tails. Theeggs we took were quickly wrapped andput under waterproof in a pail, as before.

When we had made the rounds, thelast part in a canoe to a redhead's nest,the wind was so violent that we wereunable to force the canoe back to thepower-boat. They, too, were hardlyable to drive out of the creek against thegale, but finally they came around tomeet us. When we finally got aboardthe captain declared it would be impos-sible to land at camp on account of thesurf. I made such a fuss about spoilingthose priceless eggs that he consented totry. We had an exciting run to lee-ward, down those miles of white, turbu-lent water. Near camp we found aslight projection of reeds and marsh thatmade enough of a shelter to get ashore.I was relieved to find the eggs still warmwhen I put them into the machine. That

YOUNG GADWALL

they were not injured was shown by theoutcome, for within ten days nearly everyone had hatched.

Meanwhile a place had to be providedfor the raising of our increasing family.The dogs had killed all the poultry ourhosts had tried to keep. So we cut postsin the woods, and, with a roll of wirefencing, we built a fine large pen on theonly dry and level spot of land whichwas available, right in front of ourcabin. The ducklings hatched splendid-ly and did well, and before long our ca-pacity was taxed. The yard was laidout like a little city. We had fourbrooders in a row, each with its ownyard. Beyond these yards was "Broad-way." Then came two square pens, oc-cupying the width of the four brooders,and beyond these were two more of thesame size, eight divisions in all. Each ofthe four larger sections had a coop madeout of a large packing-case.

When the ducks in the brooders gotto be about six weeks old, and were get-ting quite a bit feathered, we graduatedthem to the box coops. In the end wehad over two hundred young ducks, di-vided about equally, averaging abouttwenty-five to a pen. At first we some-times had to keep fifty or sixty in abrooder till some new ones arrived, butfound this undesirable. The smallerones got trampled and kept away fromthe food, and some would get killed or

YOUNG LESSER SCAUP OR BLUEBILL

522 OUTING

become stunted in growth. We had touse incubators, for want of hens to sit.

The hatch, to be sure, was splendid,averaging for the season the same exactlyas the year before—92 per cent. Never-theless, the ideal way would be withbantams, so that each brood could havethe care of a mother, and range aroundwith her, instead of having to be shutup in a small yard, which soon becamefoul. We had no chance here to changeground, and later there was some loss,when the ducklings were half grown,from the "going light" trouble, which inthis case was evidently caused by foulground. By bringing in fresh sand fromtime to time we minimized the diffi-culty.

The rearing was much the same as in

low rapidly fades as they grow older.They closely resemble the young red-heads. The olive of the back, however,is slightly darker, and the shape of thebill is different, but less so at first. Onehas to look sharp to distinguish thesespecies.

By nature the young canvasback ispeculiarly shy. They are quite tame atfirst if handled gently, but become shyeras they grow older. The redhead,though so similar, seems to be a tamerbird than the other. Usually they eatreadily out of one's hand, while the can-vasback seldom does. With the canvas-back a fright seems to have lasting ef-fect. A batch of twenty-four at onetime were frightened by some quick mo-tions 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 splen-did lot of young canvasbacks. Thesethrived on the same food as the otherducklings. Later they seemed rathermore susceptible to trouble from fouledground than the other species. The lit-tle canvasbacks at first are covered witha yellowish down, with darker oliveblotches on the upper parts. The yel-

over it. Any sudden approach wouldsend them racing and trampling one an-other in senseless panic. They are awk-ward birds on land, their legs being setfar "aft." Probably they need access towater earlier than most kinds. Wecould not pen them, however, on thelake shore, owing to the great changes inlevel during storms.

Young ducks need green food, and it

IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 523

was hard to provide this in sufficientquantity, till one day the assistant, in atrip across the lake, discovered a largeconcourse of ducks in an area of water-plants growing up from the bottom ofthe lake. This proved to be wild celery,on which the ducks were feeding. Hebrought back a boat-load of it, and the

thoroughly confident that I could surelyget back. I always managed to some-how, though at times belated. It is nofun alone in a wilderness fussing with abalky engine out on a turbulent lake ina 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 seenany, pitched into it with the greatesteagerness. Hereafter they had it onefeed every day, or had it by them in pansof water.

I noticed this, too, that the canvas-back, in common with the other alliedspecies like the redhead and scaup, areslower in feathering than the ordinaryducks. The pintail, for instance, showsfeathers on the sides at three weeks, andis able to fly at ten to eleven weeks. Thecanvasback shows no trace of featheringunder four weeks, and even at twelveweeks the flight feathers are still imma-ture.

After we had been out there about amonth we were able to hire a small opengasoline boat for the rest of the season.We all learned to run it, and had excit-ing times scouring around that squallylake, with some pretty close calls. Iknew precious little about machinery,and when I ran it off alone a dozenmiles farther into the wilds I never felt

the broods of young ducks were aboutin the grass and swimming in the sloughs,a new sporting era dawned. It wasnow the game to catch the sly littleskulkers. If anyone thinks it easy, Ishould enjoy seeing him try! As soonas they catch sight of an intruder thebrood puts for the tangle of weeds andgrass. All kinds can dive like witches,and some can tire out the strongest maneven out in the open water. It is hardto do much alone. One day I waslucky enough to catch by myself fiveyoung gad walls. The best way, I found,was to get the half-breeds across thelake to organize a hunt with me.

When we saw a brood in the sloughevery man of us raced for them, go-as-you-please. Into the slough we wouldplunge, waist to breast deep, beingdressed for it. If the youngsters dovewe tried to grab them as they swampast us under water. If they took to thegrass we tried to seize them before theyhid, or else hunt them out as they

524 OUTING

skulked, sometimes under water in thetangle, all but their bills. It had to bequick work; to hesitate for a second wasto be lost.

The best sport of all was to chaseyoung canvasbacks with the power-boatout on the lake. With a party of half-breeds or Indians aboard and two canoesin tow, I would run along the shore, justoutside the weeds. If we succeeded inheading a brood out into open water, theIndians took to their canoes. Each ofthe three parties would then select ayoung duck and follow it up. The chasewas nearly hopeless save on perfectlycalm days, which were few and far be-tween. For thirty to sixty minutes thepursued would try all sorts of aquatictricks—swim, skitter, dive, or skulk withbill only out of water. When tired itwould make for the weeds, and it tookkeen and vigorous work to head it off.If all ruses failed, and the canvasbackfinally began to get winded, its appear-ances would become more and more fre-quent, and at last it would sit resignedlyon the water and allow itself to be pickedup. For my part of the chase I wouldkeep the power-boat circling about theelusive creature till one of the canoescame to my assistance.

One day I was watching four Indiansin two canoes chase a nearly full-grownyoung canvasback. After nearly anhour's pursuit the bird made for shore,but would not land, as there were noweeds. The canoes closed in on it justoff the pebbly beach. Every time itcame up they shouted to scare it andgrabbed for it, sometimes pitching it outof water with their paddles, as the waterwas shallow, almost upsetting the canoesin their excitement. I was excited, too,and stood up in the stern as I circledabout, and yelled encouragement. Fi-nally an Indian seized the canvasback,and I had a splendid bird to add to thestock. In a few days it was as tame asthe rest.

Three whole months we spent, prof-itably and pleasantly, out there in thewilderness studying birds and wild fowl.We had a little world all to ourselves,except when some roving Indians landedto look at the ducks, reminding us thatthere were others. We nicknamed the

place "the Garden of Eden." At lastmost of the young ducks were fullgrown. The latest species to breed wasthe scaup, and even these little dark-colored puff-balls were over a month oldand were getting feathers.

We had a thriving family of fulltwo hundred, comprising the followingeleven species: Canvasback, redhead,lesser scaup or bluebill, American gold-en-eye or whistler, pintail, mallard, shov-eller or spoonbill, gadwall or gray duck,green-winged and blue-winged teal, andAmerican coot or mudhen. All did wellexcept the golden-eye, which proved to bea peculiar species, yet very interesting.The young are black and white, closelyresembling in many ways the young sco-ters which we tried to rear the prece-ding season. They required a specialdiet, and week after week would hardlygrow perceptibly, till they became mererunts. We raised three to full plumage,but even these finally succumbed afterreaching home,

Back to the World

One calm evening, the 24th of August,we loaded twelve crates with 200 ducksaboard the large power-boat, bade affec-tionate farewells to our kind friends, andwere off. I shall never forget the tu-mult of my emotions as that familiar,lonely shore faded away in the deepeningtwilight. We were returning to a lar-ger life, but leaving, I could not butknow, a great gap in the lives of theseworthy, lonely pioneers of the vast Ca-nadian wilderness. Late that night, un-der brilliant moonlight, we glided intocivilization. It was well we had takenadvantage of the calm spell between thefrequent autumnal gales, for in the morn-ing the treacherous lake was again lumpywith its breaking swells.

Loading the crates of ducks into theexpress car, we were soon off on the longjourney of nearly five days' continuoustravel. The assistant and I fed and wa-tered the ducks and tried to keep themdry and clean—a hard proposition. Weroughed it in a colonist car and ate five-minute lunches, our train having noother facilities. Part of the way theducks had for company a consignment

IN QUEST OF THE CANVASBACK 525

of foxes for a fur farm. Ducks andfoxes eyed and smelled one another acrossthe aisle—tantalizing, truly, for the lat-ter. The sights, sounds, and smells ofthat car worried the unfortunate expressagent and astonished the natives as wepassed through,

All things come to an end, and at last,thank Heaven, I landed my numerous

children, all but ten, safely at their des-tination in Connecticut. They are goodducks, if I do say so. docile and obedient,willing to be experimented upon. Any-how, I cannot help feeling fatherly to-ward them. I hope they may duly mul-tiply and help to replenish the earth inour eastern districts so woefully lackingin these splendid wild fowl.

IF YOU HAVE TIME THIS IS THE BEST WAY TO BUILD A COOKING FIRE OUT OF DOORSWHEN COLD WEATHER CALLS FOR ECONOMY OF HEAT