Then they would all go to preening themselves, thrusting their bills into their backs, and keeping up such a brisk motion that you could not get a fair sight of one's head. From time to time you heard a slight note of alarm, or perhaps a breeding note, for. they were evidently selecting their mates. Then it was surprising to see how briskly sailing off one side they went to diving, as if they had suddenly come across a school of minnows. A whole company would disappear at once. . . . . Now for nearly a minute there is not a feather to be seen, and then next minute you see a party of half a dozen there chasing one another and making the water fly far and wide.
March 27, 1859. . . . . It is remarkable how modest and unobtrusive these early flowers are. The musquash and duck hunter or the farmer might and do commonly pass by them without perceiving them. They steal into the air and light of spring without being noticed for the most part. The sportsman seems to see a mass of weather-stained dead twigs, whose wood is exposed here and there, but nearer the spots are recognized for the pretty bright buttons of the willow; and the flowers of the alder (now partly in bloom) look like masses of bare, barren twigs, last year's twigs, and would be taken for such.
