They dive, too, sometimes, in a more splashy way, particularly once, when the male, I think, went down, kicking the water up behind him in an exuberant spirit. Once one of them—I think again the male—comes up with something in his bill, which he dabbles about on the surface, and seems to sport with, the other coming close up and appearing to take an interest. I do not think this something is a fish; it seems too weighty and voluminous, nor do I catch a gleam. I think it is weeds, and pregnant with associations of nest-making, love-making, dalliance on the nest. Once, too, the male flies suddenly some way off over the water, and sometimes the two come close together, fronting each other, and snapping their bills a little. Once or twice also the female bird—as I think it is—has lain all along on the water. I can see no sign of a nest yet, and do not think one has been begun.
April 23rd.—These Grebes have a note which may be described as a kind of bastard quack, for it has much of the qualities of the latter, though harsher and much thinner. In my experience, however, it is seldom uttered, inasmuch as I had not noticed it before the other day, though distance may have had something to do with this. Whilst floating on the water they will sometimes stick a foot right up in the air, and waggle it. One of the pair—the female—has just done so, and it has a very odd effect. Both birds are now fishing. Each has caught a fish, and swallowed it on the surface. There was nothing further to note up till the time I left, which was about 6.30 a.m.
April 24th.—Arrive about 5.30 a.m., and during the earlier part of the morning see nothing to note down. Going away after some time, I return about 7, and then notice one of the birds lying along in the way I have so often described, on a thin patch of weeds extending a little from the shore. This bird is certainly the male, and—just as before—the female swims up, and makes several times as though to spring up also, going and returning, but each time failing to do so. The male then comes off, but almost immediately leaps up on the weeds again, just as he had done on the nest last year, and, assuming the same attitude, there is the same scene over again. Afterwards, when both the birds had swum away, I walked along the bank to the place. It was, as it had looked, a thin line of weeds, which, though
