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May, 1916 whether recognizing parental authority or not, cannot be told. As he rode the waves several times he put his bill down before him and then threw it up as if swallowing. Two that I startled one day near shore rose and flapped their wings till their big webbed feet showed above the water. A flock of forty or fifty once came plumping down, their webbed feet held out sideways like paddles.

One of the big sea birds that I watched did actually go through the breaking surf prow on, but he must have been an inexperienced or unskillful one who had lost the chance of escape, for none of his fellows ever did such an unseemly thing. It was a pretty sight when, under a gray sky, the beautiful long green rolls of surf rose and combed over and the Surf Scoters came in from the green swells behind to feed in front of the surf and do skillful diving stunts to escape being pounded by the white waterfalls. As the green wall ridged up over their heads they would sit unmoved, but just as the white line of foam began to appear along the crest they would dive, staying under till the surf had broken and the water was level again.

One day a young perspicillata had the stage to himself, coming in so close that I could see the peculiar swollen base of his bill. Once he stood up and flapped his wings proudly under the very roof of a combed-over breaker, ducking under only just in time. Often when feeding he would come up as if to breathe between breakers, but once he stayed under from the breaking of one wave till the full rounding up of another, and no sooner came to the surface than he had to duck under again precipitately; and another time he actually got caught in the edge of the spray. After a time he seemed to tire of the constant ducking, and after rising and flapping his wings near shore went back where he could ride the green rollers without more ado, or perhaps he merely wanted to feed from the sea-weed farther out.

A flock of about twenty-five Surf Scoters that I tried to count one morning—some would generally round a wave at the wrong moment and confuse my count—when swimming Indian file, on reaching a certain point disappeared one after the other, doubtless going down to a streamer of kelp under the surface. They were past masters in timing the breaking of the rollers, again and again riding over one the instant before the crest broke into foam. When feeding far out from shore a few of the sea birds would sometimes get widely separated from the rest of the flock and after rising up to look over the water would swim or, if too far, fly across to rejoin their companions.

One drizzly morning when the beach was deserted the Scoters were in near shore. Twelve were so near I could see the two light spots on the side of the head that mark the young perspicillata; another time I counted thirty- six all with the white head spots. Fifteen more were out too far to distinguish details. The surf was roiling in, sea after sea, and the great birds rode the green rollers with as much apparent enjoyment as children do the chute-the-chutes! When a squad were down in front of the surf line and the foaming water-fall came, it was laughable to see the row of tails disappear below. A careless Duck once got carried half way up the concave of a breaker before he dived. Another one had a still more humiliating experience. He attempted to round a roller when it was just ready to break and as he was surmounting it, it began to comb over and he was forced to dive at the very crown of the wave to escape being carried down and pounded by the heavy surf! When