The scaup is another sea-duck which makes its appearance in autumn in large numbers, resorting to low oozy coasts, where it finds its food. This consists principally of shell-fish, especially mussels; hence it is sometimes called "mussel-duck." It is an expert diver, and a flock of hundreds of scaup may sometimes be seen to immerse themselves at the same moment. Like the division to which it belongs, the scaup is a heavy thick-set duck, and among the least eatable of its kind; yet hundreds are taken by the fishermen in their nets. Another of the winter ducks is the golden-eye, the mature male of which is among the handsomest and wariest of its kind. The golden-eye reaches our shores about the end of October; the great majority being birds of the year, with only a few matured males among them. Their extreme wariness makes it almost impossible to approach a flock, and when on sheets of fresh water they persistently keep near the middle. If the duck is difficult to come at by the shore-shooter or on land, it is equally puzzling to the puntsman. Instead of paddling away like other ducks when alarmed, it immediately takes wing, and after having dived, it can shoot from the water without waiting on the surface an instant. This species has also several remarkable characteristics. The members of a flock paddling in the sea are never all immersed at once, one or more always remaining on the surface as sentinels. Another trait is the almost invariable habit of nesting in holes, so that the Laps place darkened boxes by the sides of rivers and lakes for the ducks to lay in. Often as many as a dozen eggs are found, and the nests are lined with the soft down of the ducks. On our coasts these ducks feed upon crustaceans and molluscs, and many fishermen know it by the name of "mussel-cracker." "Rattlewing" is another provincial name owing to the musical whistle which the bird makes with its wings when flying. Its short rounded wings are ever restless; the shy little duck is ceaselessly swimming, diving, flying--never seeming to sleep and never still. The pride of plumage of the golden-eye stands it in little stead at table, where it is considered nearly worthless. An interesting incident which lingers in the writer's memory had for its subject a pair of male golden-eyes in all the glory of matured plumage. A friend during a solitary ramble by a rush-grown mountain tarn had the good fortune to see these birds well within shot. Being a keen sportsman and fowler his fingers tingled to touch the trigger which should bring the rare prize to his hand. He was quite unaware of any other presence when a couple of shots awoke the echoes of the valley, and the ducks floated lifeless upon the water. When the white smoke lifted from the brush and reeds it showed the head and shoulders of a keen sporting friend of the first observer, and a beautiful drake now adorns the collection of each. The tufted duck is a prettily-marked species, and has the