dormant, even in the depth of winter; for, from having long watched the same birds in the same little reedy creek, I feel sure that the two I here chronicle were male and female.
These were "pursuing each other, first over the water—fly-flapping along the surface in their peculiar way—then on and under it, ducking, coming up close together, ducking again, and so on, flapping, ducking, and swimming, each in turn. It is very sustained and animated, suggesting an amorous pursuit of the female by the male, even at this time of year. They make a great noise and splashing, they are obstreperous, and a hen moor-hen standing staidly on some bent reeds gives a look as though doubtful of the strict propriety of such conduct,—in the winter,—then with an 'Ah, well! dabchicks will be dabchicks, I suppose, at all times,' resigns herself to the inevitable, and takes to preening her feathers." In the other case, which is the one that bears more directly on the question under discussion, three dabchicks pursued each other in this manner, one behind the other, and following the course of the stream. The last bird was particularly energetic, and seemed determined to interfere with the pursuit of the foremost by the one just in front of him. "When quite near me they all three pitch down and instantly dive. The first to come up stops dead still on the water, looking keenly and expectantly over it, his neck stretched rigidly out, his head darting forward from it at a right angle, as rigid as the neck. The instant another one appears, he dives again with a suddenness as of the lid of a box going down with a snap, and this other one has seen him at the same time, and dives still
