While in the young state I frequently carried it to a pond, believing that it would relish the water, and would improve in health; but I invariably found it to scramble towards the shore as soon as possible, as if dreading the element in which it was by nature destined to live. When thrown into the pond, it usually dived at once, but the next instant arose to the surface, and swam with all the buoyancy of a common duck. It is a fearless bird, keeping at bay the hens and turkeys in the yard, and never sparing any dog that chances to pass by it, dealing blows right and left with its sharp bill, and occasionally placing itself at the trough where they are fed, to prevent them from taking a morsel of food till he has tantalized them sufficiently, when he leaves them to share whatever he does not himself relish. “It was not until my bird was fully fledged that I found it willing or anxious to go to the water, and then, whenever it saw me go toward the pond, it accompanied me as far as the gate of the garden, seeming to say “Pray let me go.” On my opening this gate, it at once followed me waddling along like a duck, and no sooner was it in sight of its favourite element than it immediately let itself in, not with a plunge or a dive, but by dropping from a plank into the stream, where for a while it would swim like a duck, then, dipping its long neck, it would dive for the purpose of procuring fish. The water was clear enough to enable me to see all its movements, and after many various windings it would emerge at the distance of forty or fifty yards. This bird sleeps in the open air during warm nights, perched on the highest bar of the fence, with its head under its wings, placed there from above its back, and in rainy weather it often sits in the same position for nearly the whole day. It appears to be very susceptible of cold, retreating to the kitchen and near the fire, battling with the dogs or the cooks for the most comfortable place on the hearth. Whenever the sun shines, it spreads its wings and tail, rustles its feathers, and seems delighted with our warmest sunny days. When walking and occasionally hopping, it does not support itself by the tail, as Cormorants sometimes do. When fishes are presented to it, it seizes and swallows them greedily; but when these cannot be procured, we are forced to feed it on meat, when it opens its mouth, and receives the food placed in it. Occasionally it has spent several days without any food; but in those cases the bird became very troublesome, harassing all around by its incessant croakings, and giving blows to the servants, as if to remind them of their neglect.