The Crucial Stage of the Manitoba Wild Duck Expedition—Hatching, Rearing and Transporting the Ducklings

OMEHOW it seemed asthough the breezy, bracing at-mosphere of the wild Mani-toba prairie, while it sparkledwith exhilaration, was tremu-lous also with interrogation.

Everything that we were undertakingwas new and without precedent. Ques-tions and problems confronted us onevery hand. Perhaps we might fail. Itwas considerable of a load of respon-sibility.

One of the fundamental questions con-fronting us was whether eggs could besafely transported, or whether it wouldbe necessary to try to hatch them andraise the young before starting back. Ineither case there were uncertainties, so Ihad decided to try both methods. Dur-ing the first few days of the hunt wefound quite a few ducks' nests with fresh,incomplete sets, six eggs or less. Thenormal full set is usually eight to eleveneggs, and occasionally there are evenmore. I have found as many as twenty-two! Picking up now a few of these in-complete sets, I sent them on by express.They were at once set, and before thetrip was half over I knew the result.Not a single one developed an embryo.

From previous investigation I knew itwas hopeless to transport eggs in theearlier stages of incubation, as the jarwas sure to break the delicate blood-vessels. I had learned, though, that theembryos within a few days of hatchingcould stand a good deal. Mr. C. Wil-liam Beebe, of the New York Zoological

Park, had brought incubated seabirds'eggs from Virginia to New York, with-out artificial heat, which had hatchednormally on arrival. In case it shouldprove expedient, I had thought to at-tempt transporting some in lighted in-cubators on the cars, and had securedspecial permission from the express com-panies.

An early incident of the expeditionshowed how much punishment incubatedeggs would stand. On a driving trip,off exploring, we found a set of thirteengadwalls' eggs on an island, thirty milesfrom camp. Wrapping them in a rub-ber-coated focus-cloth to retain the heat,and putting them in a creel, they werecarried all the afternoon in a boat, thenset under a hen at a ranch at night, anddriven all the next day over rough prairietrails. The weather was hot all thetime, and upon arrival the eggs werefully as warm as when taken from thenest. The assistant had carried the creelall day in his hands, to save the eggsfrom the jolting as much as possible.Two days and a half later every one ofthe thirteen hatched. Eleven of theseducklings, as I now write, grown tomaturity, are happy and active in theirnew surroundings in our "effete" civil-ization of the East. Evidently the"rough riding" experience did them noharm.

This was our first hatch, one hundredper cent, which came off on the secondof July. Rejoiced at this auspicious be-ginning, next morning the assistant and I

ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR.

State Ornithologist of Connecticut.

By HERBERT K. JOB

WILD DUCKS FROM ANINCUBATOR

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started out in the canoe and collected thevarious sets of ducks' eggs previouslyfound, most of them heavily incubated.The incubator was now considerablyfilled. How handsome the tray looked,as we took it out for cooling andsprinkling each day, how entrancinglyinteresting, with all those eggs of somany shades and sizes, freighted, too,with such possibilities! The uninitiatedwould say that they looked much alike,but years of experience reveal real dif-ferences in shade, size, and texture. Theonly kinds in that region that are indis-tinguishable are the eggs of gadwall andbaldpate, both of which range from purewhite to creamy, and those of the twoteals, which are small and creamy white.Day by day other sets were added, andthe wonder and interest grew.

Right here we were, from necessity,violating one of the fundamental rulesof incubator work, never to put in onemachine eggs at different times and indifferent stages of incubation. It wasclearly impossible to provide, out therein the wilderness, a separate machine forevery set of eggs. Setting hens, more-over, could not be had. So we had totake chances on spoiling the eggs.

Here were the incubator methodsused. In the main room of the lodge,which was built of logs and plastered,we ran the incubators, which were keptat 103 degrees. Once a day we cooledthe eggs, till the temperature felt neutralwhen the egg was laid against the eyelid.Then the tray was laid on the floor, andwater, comfortably warm to the hand,was dashed over the eggs. They werethen turned, the other side sprinkled,and then placed back in the machine.Two towels were then soaked in quitehot water and placed, almost dripping,on the tray below the eggs. In coolweather, when the temperature was slowin recovering, the regulator was shutdown temporarily, to hasten matters.

As soon as any set of eggs showedsigns of hatching, it was removed to thesecond incubator, which was run at 104degrees, which was maintained till thehatch was complete. The ducklingswere kept in the machine from twenty-four to thirty-six hours after hatching.Owing to lack of brooder facilities, we

sometimes used the third incubator foranother day or two as a brooder, keep-ing the door ajar and the temperaturefrom ninety to ninety-five.

After our. first hatch no more occurredfor nearly a week. Then business camewith a rush, on July 8th, a memorableday. On the seventh three sets had be-gun to pip, one each of redhead, lesserscaup, and pintail. This morning, as Iwent forth to hunt ruddy ducks' nests,two little redheads were already out. Atdinner time, when I returned successful,the hatch was actively in progress, theeggs popping almost like corn over a fire.

It was so exciting and fascinating thatwe both let dinner wait and sat in frontof the machine to watch. How they didcome! First the shell was chipped nearlyaround. Pulsations more and more vio-lent! Off bursts the larger end of theshell. A few more struggles, the headis out; then again, and the soaking littlenovice tumbles all over himself andeverything else. Getting his balance, hetakes a look around, and immediatelygoes to preening, as though his motherhad previously whispered to him justwhat to do.

The afternoon was still young whenthe hatch was complete. Of twenty-four eggs, only three had failed to hatch,—one infertile, one with dead chick, andone rotten. One set, the scaups', hatchedevery egg. Our next hatch, a set of red-head, on the eleventh, yielded anotherone hundred per cent, as did next day aset of what we hoped were baldpate orAmerican widgeon, but which proved tobe gadwall. By this time it seemed sonatural to hatch every egg of a set thatwe were surprised and even a bit regret-ful if even a single egg failed. As, for in-stance, on the twelfth also, when oursmall set of four ruddy's eggs came toterm. All four were pipped, and threecame out promptly. The other ducklingwas having a hard struggle and seemedto be stuck. After a time I decided toassist, but it was too late. The little fel-low had died from exhaustion.

So it ran on from time to time. Thenext four sets hatched consecutively onehundred per cent. The poorest hatch ofall was a set of blue-winged teal, fromwhich we got five good ducklings, three,

WILD DUCKS FROM AN INCUBATOR 321

nearly ready to hatch, being dead in theshell. This was probably due to my for-getting the eggs one day when they wereout cooling. Yet even that result wasnot bad!

On tabulating the records, I find thatonly three eggs were infertile, and veryfew embryos failed to hatch. In overhalf the sets every egg hatched, the aver-age hatch for the season being ninety-twoper cent, which is certainly remarkable,far surpassing the results in ordinarypoultry work. This was despite the dis-advantages of placing miscellaneous eggsin the same machine, transporting themfor miles at critical stages of incubation,and subjecting them to the abrupt changeof conditions. Probably it is the greatvigor and virility of this wild stock, hard-ened to rigorous climatic conditions, thataccounts for this astonishing percentage.

To revert to stern realities, lack ofbrooders was one of our principal causesfor anxiety. All we had at first was anindoor hover, with hot water heater.The large outdoor brooder we had or-dered was delayed in transportation.The weather was cold and stormy, and,

even in the kitchen, that hover wouldnot heat up to over eighty degrees. Wehad to keep our first brood quite a whilein the incubator. Finally, getting thehover enclosed in a box and building afire in the stove to warm the room, weventured to transfer the ducklings. Dur-ing rare periods of sunshine we trans-ferred the ducklings by hand outdoors toa wire run on the lee side of the cottage,partly sheltered from the raging prairiewind. As other broods hatched, we hadour hands more than full and saved theducklings only by unremitting toil.Finally, one day, the assistant discoveredthe long-desired brooder behind an un-used cottage, where a drunken driver'had dumped it the night before.

Everyone familiar with young wildducks knows what shy skulkers they are,having a supposed inherent and uncon-querable wildness. This notion maynow be consigned to the scrap-heap.These ducklings, of various kinds,hatched artificially, away from the in-fluence and teaching of the wild mother,have absolutely no fear of man. Insteadof fleeing from us, they simply would

THE DUCKLINGS DO NOT KNOW WHAT FEAR IS. NEVER HAVING BEEN TAUGHTBY WILD PARENTS

322 THE OUTING MAGAZINE

SHORT-EARED OR MARSH OWL HOVER-

ING OVER NEST

YOUNG LONG-EARED OWLS

not get out of the way, and we had to bevery careful, in the runways, not tostep on them.

Of all the hungry creatures I ever sawthese took the prize. The instant I ap-peared, an hour or more after any meal,they would rush at me in a frantic mob,

piping, struggling, jumping on one an-other. If I reached out my hand to re-move an empty water fountain, theywould almost eat me up! When thetwo heaping plates of food were placedon the ground to divide the mob, theysimply hurled themselves at the dishes,each one gulping, gobbling, shovelling,for all it was worth. One species isspecially named "shoveller," but, blessthem, every one is a shoveller from theword go ! After about two or threemouthfuls, each duckling hustles to geta drink and wash it down, sifting thewater through its bill. A quart of wa-ter did not last any time. It was neces-sary to use drinking fountains to keepthem from getting soaked, and even thenthey got all too wet. We improvisedsmall fountains for the smaller ones withsaucers and tin cans with holes cut inthem.

The crucial question now was whetherthe food would nourish the ducklingsproperly. The first week with that firstbrood was an anxious time. Every dayI was afraid that they would begin todie off. In a few days one did die, andwe held an anxious post mortem. Theothers, though, grew and flourished. Asthe next broods hatched, we could seethat the first had made great gain insize. Another stage of the battle waswon. In fact, for all except the rud-dies and scoters the food proved whollysuitable. They all thrived on it, andthere was not one single death by in-digestion or disease the whole trip.

The feeding system was as follows:The main staples were raw oatmeal anda special wild duck meal. For nurseryfood we began with three parts of oat-meal to one of duck meal, mixed withbarely enough water to moisten, notsloppy. Into this was mixed also a mod-erate amount of coarse, sharp sand, notover ten per cent. This, I believe, isabsolutely essential for proper digestion.Also we kept by them a dish of fine gritand charcoal, and plenty of fresh water.As they grew older we increased theproportion of duck meal, till, at over twoweeks old, it was about half and half.

Hard-boiled egg, finely ground up,shell and all, is also a most desirable food.Whenever eggs could be secured, we fed

Young Upland Plover—A Victim ofthe Early Open Season.

AN ORPHAN

WILD DUCKS FROM AN INCUBATOR 323

these once a day, mingled with sand anddiluted with oatmeal. The ducklingswere eager for this above everything else.It was very hard to secure eggs fromthe settlers. Another time I would havecheap eggs shipped out from civilizationin case lots. From about five days oldand on we fed a little crissel, a prepara-tion of dried clean lean meat, but it mustbe used sparingly. From the age of twoweeks I began to add a little chick-grain,and from a month old and on they hadconsiderable of this.

Green vegetable food is important.Having the ducklings out on the grass,we frequently changed the location ofthe yards, and they soon stripped theleaves off the weeds. As substitutes forlettuce and cabbage, we pulled up arm-fuls of cat-tails and rushes in the ad-joining marsh, and chopped up the ten-der inside growth, down near the root,for which the ducklings were alwayseager.

During the downy stage we fed themfive times a day, as much as they wouldeat up clean in a short time, reducingthe number of meals as they grew larger.Three times is enough when they aregetting fledged and two thereafter.

I did not dare to give them water toswim in, especially as the weather wascold nearly all the time. Under properconditions, on warm days, however, theyreally need an occasional short bath, toprevent their plumage from getting stuckup. Sometimes I had to wash them offby hand, and occasionally dry them offin the incubator. Doubtless it seemsstrange that ducklings should be kept outof the water. In the wild state themother probably keeps them oiled, andbroods them frequently. In confine-ment, however, they soon become soakedand chilled, and are apt to die of cramp.We had little of this, because I did notgive them the chance. One or two wentthat way, and others I saved by hustlingthem promptly into the incubator. Veryhot sun is also dangerous, and shadeshould always be accessible. The brood-er also must not be allowed to get hot.On warm days it should be opened, andthe lamp in daytime should ordinarilybe turned very low.

Of our twelve species of ducklings,

OUR PORTAGE

A LUCKY FIND

there were but two for which our meth-ods were inadequate,—the ruddy duckand the white-winged scoter. The youngscoters are big ducklings, with black andwhite down, beautiful, gentle creatures.They walk around in an upright atti-tude, like little men, with a sort of wise

DUCKLINGS FEEDING. THEY AREMOST VORACIOUS EATERS

OUR LODGE, WITH BROODERS AND COOPS FOR DUCKLINGS OUTSIDE

air. Docile, they ate quite freely, thoughthey did not rush and shovel quite likethe others. The food, however, did notnourish them, and they kept dying.

Out in the wilds our resources werescant. Some of them survived the longjourney. An expert from the New YorkZoological Park came out to advise onthe problem. Minnows were fed tothem, and they were given a varied fish,meat, and insect diet, all in vain. At theZoological Park, we were told, they hadnever been able to keep scoters alive.Here is a problem for further study.

The ruddy duck is another problem.This duck, though little larger than ateal, lays eggs bigger than those of suchlarge species as the mallard and canvas-back. The young are most curious crea-tures. Similar in color to the youngscoters, they are differently marked, and,rather strangely, have larger bills, ofbroad spoon-shape. They have a coarse,hair-like plumage, and are fat and squat-ty, about as broad as they are long. Theirlegs are set uncommonly far "aft," evenfor a diving duck, and the body is soheavy that they can hardly stand morethan for a moment. The feet are enor-mously broad. Waddling a few steps,down they fall and lie there, blinking

helplessly, with a sort of foolish air.Seldom would they take even a mouth-ful of food or drink. The way theyflop over the ground reminds one ofturtles.

I tried various plans to induce them toeat. About the only way was to put foodin water, but they made bad work withit, and soon would become thoroughlysoaked. The first attempt killed onewith cramp, and I had to desist. If Iforced food down their throats, theyhawked it up. They steadily refusedfood, and died in less than a week.Opening one that was four days old, Iwas surprised to find a large unabsorbedyolk in the abdominal cavity. It is en-tirely different from any other duck,if, indeed, it deserves to be classed withthe ducks. It presents a singular prob-lem—which, by the way, our guide didnot consider worth solving.

"What in the world docs he want toraise ruddies for?" said he to the assist-ant. "They're no good, even if he raisedthem. Why, if you go and pluck one,you pull off the meat with the feathers."

Though I hope to pursue the problemfurther, as an interesting matter of sci-ence, it is probable that various marinespecies, such as scoters, mergansers, eid-

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SETTLER'S DAUGHTER, BEARING GOOD NEWS—ANNOUNCING FIND OF A GREEN-WINGED TEAL'S NEST

ers, the old squaw, and the ruddy duck,will prove unadaptable to domestication,and would be of no practical or com-mercial value.

The other ten species, however, thatwe investigated, are readily raised.These are,—to repeat from the otherarticle (THE OUTING MAGAZINE, No-vember),—pintail, shoveller, mallard,gadwall, baldpate, blue-winged andgreen-winged teals, redhead, canvasback,lesser scaup. The young canvasbacksand redheads, contrary to what might beexpected, are docile creatures and dosplendidly. The only duckling thatshowed any trace of natural wildness wasthe scaup,—the blue-bill or broad-bill ofour Atlantic coast gunners. Not thatthey are afraid, but they are nervousand restless, always running around andjumping, trying to get out. They seemrather harder to raise than the others,and we lost more in proportion. Never-theless, we have a nice little bunch ofthem grown to maturity.

In addition to the above species whichare evidently capable of domestication,the dusky or black duck and the woodduck are known to come in this category.The chances are also, I believe, in favorof the American and Barrows' golden-eyes and the little bufflehead. The great-er scaup would doubtless be like the les-

ser. Then there is the cinnamon teal,found farther west. So here are at leastseventeen splendid native American wildducks, all probably capable of artificialincrease, as some are already known tobe. These are problems well worthy theattention of lovers of wildfowl.

I had imagined that most of the wildducklings would be practically indistin-guishable. As a matter of fact, however,many of them are absolutely unlike, andall can readily be told apart, even thoughsome are very much alike. Canvasbacksand redheads are the "yellow birds"among the duck tribe, but have distinctlydifferent bills. The pintail is a black-

ish and white striped bird. Gadwalland baldpate are identical, save that theformer has light brownish feet, the latterdark slaty. The blue-winged and green-winged teals are similar, save for atrifling difference in marking on thehead, and the green-wing has a smaller,shorter bill. The scaup is a very darkbird, mostly blackish brown, with aslight crest. The shoveller is alwaysdistinguishable by its enormous bill. Andso on.

Owing to our late arrival, we foundit desirable to try to complete our stockby catching some ducklings alreadyhatched in the wild state. If anyoneimagines this an easy task, a few at-

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326 THE OUTING MAGAZINE

THE CANVASBACK FLOTILLA

FEMALE RUDDY DUCK AND COOT OR

MUD-HEN

BLUE-WINGED TEAL, GADWALL, RED-HEAD, LESSER SCAUP AND

SHOVELLER DUCKLINGS

tempts will disabuse him of the notion.I shall never forget my own futile at-tempts to chase broods of canvasbacksand redheads. When I first saw themout on open waters of the larger bays,I thought surely I could catch some, asthey were quite young. But, as I pad-dled up fairly near, they began to skit-ter rapidly over the surface, and thenthey plunged. Not a sign of them couldI see again, for the surface was ruffled,and they only raised their bills tobreathe, swimming long distances underwater to the edge of the rushes, wherethey were absolutely safe.

Finally, we were lucky enough to en-list some French-Indian half-breeds, whoare wonderful paddlers and hunters.Whenever we saw their rig, in the even-ing, driving toward our camp, I alwaysfelt a thrill of excitement, knowing thatsomething of great interest was near.Besides some small ducklings, theycaught some magnificent specimens,fledged all but the flight feathers, of can-vasback, pintail, shoveller, and mallard.

It was exciting to hear them tell howthey caught the canvasbacks. Two orthree canoes would single one out fromthe rest and chase it. For nearly anhour it would dive and skulk. It tookkeen eyes to see where it stuck up itsbill and expert paddling to keep up withit. They simply tired it out, and at lastthe poor duck, unable to dive any longer,came to the surface and meekly allowedthe nearest boat to pick it up.

We had little trouble in taming andrearing most of these captives. The can-vasbacks at first would lie down flat onthe ground and sulk, but they soon gotover this. In a few hours all of themwould be shyly eating and drinking, andwithin a week they would eat out of myhand. The only serious trouble or losswas due to fighting, on account of a lackof coops in which to segregate new ar-rivals. The larger ducks are terriblysavage to others put in with them asstrangers, chasing and hammering them,and we lost some nice birds thus. Thosethat could stand it for a day or two werethen accepted on equal terms. We foundthat the prairie is no lumber-yard, whenit comes to building operations. Theproper way is to build a number of coops

WILD DUCKS FROM AN INCUBATOR 327

in advance, keep new arrivals separatetill they get to eating well, and thenmix the groups so that pretty much allfeel strange.

Though heat is not needed after theducklings are over a month or so old, itis necessary to provide good shelter forcold windy nights and the heavy rains ofthe region. After learning a lesson bylosing a fine canvasback, we brought intothe kitchen each night all the ducks notfully fledged, not having material forcoops, and not daring to take any morechances. We also found that a moderatepercentage of wild ducklings captured ata very tender age were liable to die fromshock, exhaustion, or abstinence. Mostof them, though, would take right holdwith the tame incubator birds.

With these latter, it was encouragingto find that practically about the onlylosses were due to overcrowded condi-tions. In the large brooder hardly abird died, save in the youngest broodof gadwalls. The others seemed to getthe start of them and were always step-ping on them and pushing them awayfrom the food. They became more andmore bedraggled and stunted, and in theend we lost them all.

In the other brooder, with the small-est ducklings, the hover was crowdedat night. It was too bad to have to makefat scoters and tiny teals sleep together,for some of the little ones were trampledor smothered. There was very little lossfrom any other cause. If I were doingthe thing again, I should know exactlywhat equipment and facilities to provideand should expect the losses to be al-most nil, certainly no more than on awell-regulated tame-duck farm.

The. days passed rapidly, crowdedwith incident and adventure which thereis not space here to recount. It wasthe last night in camp. At midnight,having completed necessary tasks, I wentoutside before retiring, and sat on thebrooder in the moonlight, enjoying thewonderful scene, and listening to theweird sounds of bird voices from thegreat mysterious marsh. How I shouldmiss the canoe and the charm of thestrange labyrinth where bred the noblecanvasback!

Soon dawned the eventful day when

PAIR OF RUDDY DUCKS. MALE IN REAR

SNAPSHOT OF A PIED-BILLED GREBE

COOP FOR DUCKLINGS ON PRAIRIE

THE AUTHOR ON A HUNT IN THE GREAT MARSHES

102 chicklings were to start on their longjourney. In the incubator were a feweggs still unhatched. Three of themwere the remnant of a set of green-winged teal stepped on by cattle; the restwere of the late-laying scoter. I hadcalculated that these would not hatchtill the end of the journey. Alas, somewere pipped that last night, and on themorning of leaving a teal and a scoterwere out, all the rest being in processof hatching.

It was a real tragedy, but it was toolate to alter our plans. So, reluctantly,I put the unlucky brood in a pail, withwarm sand beneath, wrapped in ablanket. I misjudged the temperature.Every egg had a live duckling in it, butby the time we got aboard the train allhad been overheated or smothered, savethe two already hatched, which, strangeto relate, made the trip safely to Con-necticut.

We could not, therefore, determinethe point about transporting incubatedeggs. I did, however, settle the questionof the safety of carrying fresh wildducks' eggs in the cars on a very longjourney under the best conditions, withpersonal care. I had saved for this testa set of eggs laid close by our camp,taking each new egg as it was laid, to

make sure of its being fresh, substitutingeach time an egg from another set of thesame kind in the incubator. I packedthem with great care, in springy paper,took care of them on the journey, andturned them each day. Despite all this,not one of them started an embryo. Itis clear that the only sure way is to hatchout the eggs before starting.

I might devote the entire article tothe experiences of that memorable 2,000-mile journey. Two large double wagonloads trailed southward over the prairie,that twenty-ninth of July, mercifullyone of the few pleasant days. The duck-lings were carried in two crates and twobrooders, assorted according to size. Of-ficials at every divisional point, throughthe courtesy of the Dominion ExpressCompany, had received orders to giveevery facility, and I remember every oneof them with gratitude. The bumpingand jerking of the cars kept throwingthe poor ducklings off their feet, but theywere so tame they endured it philosoph-ically, and devoted themselves to eatingand drinking. The worst trouble wasin keeping them dry, as the waterslopped around, and they spilled it indrinking. I carried a bag of hay, fromwhich I frequently changed the litterfor them.

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WILD DUCKS FROM AN INCUBATOR 329

At one point, Fort William, Ontario,I suddenly found that they were goingto divide the train into two sections. Ihustled my suitcase from the Pullmanto the express car and saw no more ofmy berth or my son for the next twenty-four hours. I tremble to think of whatwould have happened to the ducklingshad I been left behind! That night Islept on top of two boxes in the expresscar. It was hardly as comfortable as thelower berth, but more desirable for thepurpose in hand. The nights were cool,and I had to keep a little heat in thebrooders most of the way.

All things come to an end, and on theafternoon of the fifth day of the trip,over four whole days from the start, Ilanded the ducklings on the preserve—102 of them, representing eleven speciesof wild ducks. Also there was a cootor mud-hen that harmonized beautifullywith the ducks and makes a singularappearance among them, with its longlegs and slender lobed toes. We hadlost eighteen birds on the journey, andduring the next few days some of thesmallest ones dropped off from the effectsof the journey. Ever since then, as atpresent, the rest have been in fine shape.

It was most encouraging and instruc-tive to find that of the losses due to thejourney every one, with one solitary ex-

ception, were of birds not over twelvedays old at the start, and down to threedays. Every duck three weeks old orover at the start, except this one, a red-head, which may have been about threeweeks old and perhaps was hurt, stoodthe ordeal safely. It simply means thatyoung wild ducks over three weeks oldcan stand a long journey if they areproperly fed and handled. A good rulewould be to have them one month old tomake sure.

It is a rare delight now to have thisunique and beautiful stock within easyaccess, to study their early plumages andchanges, as yet not all described in books,to note their interesting ways, and towork out details of handling, feeding,and breeding, under the auspices of aGovernment Experiment Station, wherescientific work is understood and appre-ciated. If only experiments could thushave been made with the lamented pas-senger pigeon, we should doubtless havehad them alive to-day. We may wellhope that from such beginnings thesesplendid wildfowl species may be sowidely multiplied that exterminationwill be impossible, and, better still, that,through public interest engendered intheir welfare, they may again becomefamiliar sights upon the waters of ourentire country.

EDITORIAL NOTE.—The generous financial backers of the State and Government expedi-tion have consented, upon solicitation, to allow their names to be made public. They areMessrs. F. C. Walcott and S. W. Childs, of New York City.

Furthermore, we would state that the laws of the Province of Manitoba allow suchpermits only to properly accredited representatives of " other States or Governments," underwhich head this expedition comes.