Lucien now continued his “monograph” of the American ducks.

“There are,” said he, “more than two dozen species of ducks on the waters of North America. These the systematists have divided into no less than eighteen genera! Why it would be more easy to learn all that ever was known about all the ducks in creation, than to remember the eighteen generic names which these gentlemen have invented and put forward. Moreover, the habits of any two species of these ducks are more similar than those of any two kinds of dogs. Why then, I should ask—why this complication? It is true that the ducks do not resemble each other in every thing. Some species are fonder of water than others. Some feed entirely upon vegetable substances; others upon small fish, insects, crustacea, etcetera. Some live entirely in the sea; others make their home in the freshwater lakes and rivers, while many species dwell indifferently, either in salt or fresh waters. Some love the open wave; others the sedgy marsh; while one or two species roost upon trees, and build their nests in the hollow trunks. Notwithstanding all this, there is such a similarity in the appearance and habits of the different species, that I think the systematists have improved but little, if anything, upon the simple arrangement of the true naturalist Wilson, who—poor Scotch émigré as he was, with an empty purse and a loaded gun—has collected more original information about the birds of America than all that have followed him. He described the ducks of America under the single genus Anas; and, in my opinion, described them in a more intelligent and intelligible manner than any one has done since his time—not even excepting another great and true naturalist, whose career has been longer, more successful, and happier; and whose fame, in consequence of his better fortune, has become, perhaps, higher and more extended.

“The water-fowl of America,” continued Lucien—“I mean the swans, geese, and ducks, are of great importance in the fur countries where we are now travelling. At certain seasons of the year, in many parts, they furnish almost the only article of food that can be procured. They are all migratory—that is, when the lakes and rivers of these regions become frozen over in the winter they all migrate southward, but return again to breed and spend the summer. They do this, perhaps, because these wild territories afford them a better security during the season of incubation, and afterwards of moulting. It is not very certain, however, that this is the reason, and for my part I am inclined to think not, for there are also wild, uninhabited territories enough in southern latitudes, and yet they forsake these and migrate north in the spring. ‘Their arrival in the fur countries,’ writes a distinguished naturalist, ‘marks the commencement of spring, and diffuses as much joy among the wandering hunters of the Arctic regions, as the harvest or vintage excites in more genial climes.’ Both by the Indians and hunters in the employ of the Hudson’s Bay Company swans, geese, and ducks, are slaughtered by thousands, and are eaten not only when fresh killed, but they are salted in large quantities, and so preserved for winter use, when fresh ones can no longer be procured. Of course, both Indian and white hunters use all their art in killing or capturing them; and to effect this they employ many different methods, as decoying, snaring, netting, and shooting them: but Cousin Norman here could give a better description of all these things than I. Perhaps he will favour us with some account of them.”

“The Indians,” said the young trader, taking up the subject without hesitation, “usually snare them. Their most common way is to make a number of hedges or wattle fences projecting into the water at right angles to the edge of the lake, or, it may be, river. These fences are two or three yards apart, and between each two there is, of course, an opening, into which the birds swim, as they make towards the shore for their food. In these openings, then, the snares are set and tied so firmly to a post stuck in the bottom, that the birds, whether ducks, geese, or swans, when caught, may not be able to drag it away. To keep the snare in its place, it is secured to the wattles of the fence with tender strands of grass, that of course give way the moment the fowl becomes entangled. The snares are made out of deer sinews, twisted like packthread, and sometimes of thongs cut from a ‘parchment’ deerskin, which, as you know, is a deerskin simply dried, and not tanned or dressed. The making of the fences is the part that gives most trouble. Sometimes the timber for the stakes is not easily had; and even when it is plenty, it is no easy matter to drive the stakes into the bottom and wattle them, while seated in a vessel so crank as a birch canoe. Sometimes, in the rivers where the water-fowl most frequent, the current is swift, and adds to this trouble. Where the lakes and rivers are shallow, the thing becomes easier; and I have seen small lakes and rivers fenced in this way from shore to shore. In large lakes this would not be necessary, as most of the water-birds—such as the swans and geese—and all the ducks that are not of the diving kinds, are sure to come to the shore to feed, and are more likely to be taken close in to land than out in the open water.

“The Indians often snare these birds upon the nest, and they always wash their hands before setting the snare. They have a notion—I don’t know whether true or not—that if their hands are not clean, the birds can smell the snare, and will be shy of going into it. They say that all these birds—and I believe it’s true of all fowls that make their nests upon the ground—go into the nest at one side, and out at the opposite. The Indians knowing this, always set their snares at the side where the bird enters, and by this they are more sure of catching them, and also of getting them some hours sooner.

“Besides snaring the water-fowl,” continued Norman, “the Indians sometimes catch them in nets, and sometimes on hooks baited with whatever the birds are known to eat. They also shoot them as the white hunters do, and to get near enough use every sort of cunning that can be thought of. Sometimes they decoy them within shot, by putting wooden ducks on the water near their cover, where they themselves are stationed. Sometimes they disguise their canoes under brushwood, and paddle to the edge of the flock; and when the moulting season comes round, they pursue them through the water, and kill them with sticks. The swans, when followed in this way, often escape. With their strong wings and great webbed feet, they can flap faster over the surface than a canoe can follow them. I have heard of many other tricks which the Indians of different tribes make use of, but I have only seen these ways I have described, besides the one we have............