LEFFINGWELL. _

WILD FOWL SHOOTING/

CONTAINING

SCIENTIFIC AND PRACTICAL DESCRIPTIONS

OF

Wild Fowl: Their Resorts, Habits, Flights

AND THE MOST

SUCCESSFUL METHOD OF HUNTING THEM.

TREATING OF THE SELECTION OF GUNS FOR WILD FOWL SHOOTING; HOW TO
LOAD, TO AIM, AND TO USE THEM SUCCESSFULLY; DECOYS, AND THE
PROPER MANNER OF USING THEM; BLINDS, HOW AND WHERE
TO CONSTRUCT THEM; BOATS, HOW TO BUILD AND USE
THEM SCIENTIFICALLY; RETRIEVERS, THEIR

CHARACTERISTICS, HOW TO SELECT,
AND HOW TO TRAIN THEM.

By WILLIAM BRUCE LEFFINGWELL.

Wy WS
\ 10
Curicaao; oh, 109 5
Sh,,
RAND, McNALLY & CO. ARIE

1888.

CopyRIGHT, 1888, BY
WILLIAM BRUCE LEFFINGWELL.

TO MY FRIEND,

BENJAMIN S. WOODWARD,
OF LYONS, IOWA,
MY HUNTING COMPANION, AN EXPERT WILD
FOWL SHOT, AND A GENTLEMAN IN THE FULLEST ACCEPT:
ATION OF THE TERM.
THIS BOOK

IS DEDICATED WITH FRATERNAL AFFECTION
BY

ITS AUTHOR.

he dD ay

ni mis -

fh
ay a Ming his
Aa
4 eae 7

os :
ane Lane cen

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
REVERIES.

«J remember’?—A dreamy youth—Amid Nature—Birds and flowers
—His first gun—Primitive accoutrements—Gentle Neil—The wood-
cock—Chagrin—Success—A dark shadow—A woodcock feeding—
Love of field sports—Pleasant memories.

CHAPTER II.
MALLARD DUCK.

Migrations-—-Rate of speed—Springtime—Pin-oak ridges—A mate
chosen—Constancy——-Beneath the forest trees—Connubial bliss—
‘“Are you coming ?’’—Visitors—A contrast—Breeding places—
Staying to spend the summer—Rushes and rice—Corn-fed mal-
lards.

CHAPTER III.
WooOD DUCK—SUMMER DUCK.

Beautiful plumage—Sweet memories—In among the alder and maples
—Where they frequent—A happy pair—Their tiny brood—A bug
—A scramble—Contrast between male and female—Sunshine—In
a tree; astrange sight —A pastoral scene—A_ pretty bird—Rainbow
colors—A study—Their flight.

CHAPTER IV.
BLUE-WINGED TEAL.

In early fall—Where they frequent—Avoid open water—Easily de-
coyed—How they drop in, snipe-like—Their great speed—One hun-
dred and fifty miles an hour—Waiting for shot to catch up, possibly
—A slight blow kills them-—Dainty eating.

1

CONTENTS.

wo

CHAPTER V.
SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL-BOAT ON THE MISSISSIPPI.

A successful way—The weather—One brief day—Something new for
you—A distinguished guest—The dog left, home—The start—Banks
of the Mississippi—-An ideal day—Our boat—Look at her!—Un-
broken bluffs—‘* Dark shute ??—Trimming the boat—A_ particular
man—A splendid duck country—Dicn’t you see him ?—A drake

Hurrah! Got four—In the overflow—Thousands of mallards—

A neat double—See them get up!—Blue-bills in the lake—A teal—

Ila! Ha!-—Coffee and lunch—My solace—‘‘ Eyes of deepest blue”

—Scientifie sculling—In the river—Wandering thoughts—See them

drop from the clouds—-A canvas-baeck--A prying blue-bill—My old

friends— ‘Trees of the forest”—‘* Turkey Slough’’—Tired out—

“ Ah-unk!”’—A Canada goose for dessert—Anegry bluffs—Lyonus—

Fulton— A sandhar—Electrie light on the river—A light in the

window—Our welcome home.

CHAPTER VI.
CORN-FIELD MALLARD SHOOTING.

The day—A dreary morning—Blinds of corn stalks—How to decoy
them.

CHAPTER VII.
SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW-STORM.

The start—A Bright morning—Sudden approach of the storm—
Howling winds and drifting snow—Grit—All quiet in the timber—
Where to find them during a snow storm—An amateur—Their re-
sort—Harry makes frequent misses—Will not hold ahead—Broken
promises—Disgusted with duecks—Hits a crow-—Holds ahead and
kills—Encouraged by his success in downing the crow—Pathetic
and eloquent—Neighborly kindness—Finale, two hunters and a
dog.

CHAPTER VIII.
WILSON SNIPE—JACK-SNIPE.

The hunter’s delight—Uncertainty of finding them—To-day here;
to-morrow there ?—Whien they coniee—How they come—An invita-
tion accepted—An insult—A 103 1b. gun for snipe—Oh !—A 7 1-4 1b.
gun—Ah!—My dog—Ned’s idea of a snipe day—-Down wind—An
ideal spring day—*‘ Scaipe! Scaipe!””—A_ perfect retriever—Where
they bored——Zig-zag, a clean miss—Dislocated—Up in the clouds,
what they do—Poor Ned! Only a slip—A dog to point; a dog to
retrieve, which ?—Diftieulty in finding a dead snipe—A scent—He
moves, he halts, he creeps, he stands entranced—Too much for
Ned—Splendid! Grand !—Ned’s apology—Where snipe are found—
How to hit them—aA gimlet of life—The vernal season.

CONTENTS. 3
CHAPTER 1X.
MALLARD TIMBER SHOOTING,

Spring overflow—Examining the gun—Aim unfailing—A forgiving
wife—Reverence—Seek the shallow water—A feeding ground—
Your excellent blind—-Don’t shoot through tree-tops—How to set
out decoys—The wrong call—HHow to call in the timber—An ill-
judged shot—Make the most of it.

CHAPTER X.
MALLARD SILOOTING AT ICE-HOLES,

Their resort—The hunter hears them—The hunter and his dog—
Careful reconnoitering—An intelligent dog—A gentle reproach—
Acquiescence—A bonanza—Blinds.

CHAPTER XI.

IN THE MARSH—MORNING. MIDDAY AND EVENING DUCK
SHOOTING,

Early impressions—Yourself—Shells—Take plenty—Poor consolation
— ‘* Me-amp’’? —Disgusted—Number 6 shot—What powder ?—
Machine shells—Chilled shot—Clothing—Big feet—Rubber coat—
Sympathy—An early start—Coffee for two—On the water by moon-
light—Frosty morning—Meredosia bottoms—The marsh—A duck
pass—The Mississippi—The Wapsipinicon—Their feed—Among
the ducks—T'o0o ‘easy—Daybreak—A narrow escape—l'wo feet
ahead—Dogs—The best day for duecks—No cranky boat—How to
set out decoys—Tell the difference ?—A blind—A funny thing
about 8’s—Use judgment—A watchful dog—Like fluttering leaves
—High climbers—Why didn’t you shoot ?—Historical scenery—
Blackhawk—-Mound-builders—Briarwood pipe ?—In the middle of
the day—Where to find them—Dropping in; mark the spot—In-
vestigate—How to wrap decoys—Got fooled, didn’t she ?—A clean
miss—A handsome pair—Effeminate ? Oh, no!—How all come at
once—Darkness in a swamp—-Flames from your gun—Sunset—
Twilight—The North Star—Steamer for home-—One hundred and
twelve ducks.

CHAPTER XII.
SHOVELER—SPOONBILL.

A queer duck—Peculiar bill—Whv is it ?--A plebeian—Nature’s pro-
vision—The section boss—Fair field and no favor—An artist.

CHAPTER XIII.
BLUE BILL—-SCAUP DUCK.

How they derive their names—Their food—Little salts—In rough

4 CONTENTS.

water—Floating down the Mississippi—On ice—Among them with
scull boat—Decoys in bayous—Kind of blind—On the alert—
Tenacious of life—Coming to decoys—A difficult bird to hit—Suc-
cess—A double.

CHAPTER XIV.
CANVAS-BACK DUCK.

An eastern duck—On the Chesapeake—How they are captured—-A
rare bird in the west—In Illinois and Iowa—Pleasant memories—
Their velocity—How they alight—Drakes—Poor fellows.—Inquis-
itive—Distinction between canvas-back and red-head—A cripple
—‘ Good-bye ’’—Where and how to decoy them—Size of shot to
use.

CHAPTER XV.
GREEN-WINGED TEAL.
A hardy bird—Where found—Along the willows—Jumping them—

Whistling cries—Littie russet bodies—The boy hunter—A pot shot
—In over-flowed bottoms.

CHAPTER XVI,
AMERICAN WIDGEON—BALD PATE.
Tlabits similar to pin tails and mallards—Found in overflowed prai-

ries—More plenty in spring—Shy birds—Coaxed to decoys with
plaintive whistle—Not tenacious of life.

CHAPTER XVII.
GADWALL DUCK--GRAY DUCK.

Locally known as gray duck—Resort, inland ponds—Flight similar
to mallards—Often taken for mallard—Decoy to mallard decoys—
Found in great numbers in the south.

CHAPTER XVIII.
QUAIL SHOOTING,

Don and I—Coaxed away by a whistling quail—Description of habits
—A fond mother—Lively yvoungsters—A modest father—Raising
their brood—Where they roost and how—In winter—A_ tender-
hearted housewife--Bob White—Irightened—-Withhold scent—-A
quiet field—A disconsolate lover—A coquette—Reunited—* When

once the young heart of a maiden is stolen’’—Cannot be domesti-
eated—Migrating—Fly against buildings—Pleasures of hunting
them—* My setter ranges ’—Hold well ~ ahead—My inspiration—

Fond recollections.

CONTENTS. 5

CIAPTER XIX.
DUSKY, OR BLACK DUCK.
Black mallard in the West—Description—Seldom seen in West—Size.

CHAPTER XxX.
AMERICAN COOT—MUD HEN.

A harmless nuisance—Neither fit for sport nor food—A verdict with-
out a trial—Eaten sometimes—-How they taste—Plenty in fall—
Voracious feeders and incessant chatterers—Skulking through the
rice stalks—Their flight—Drive them from decoys.

CHAPTER XXI.
BUFFLE-HEADED DUCK-—-BUTTER BALL.

Smallest of duck tribe—Seldom hunted—Swift flyers—Their food.

CHAPTER XXII.
RED-HEAD DUCK.

Distinction between red-head and canvas-back—Great feeders—What
they like to eat—In the timber—A treacherous stream—-Delighiful
shooting—Decoys and how to use them—Call them—Best way to
capture a cripple—Where they are found—An evening in the Mis-
souri bottoms—Between 70 and 80 in an hour—Out of shells.

CHAPTER XXIII.
SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL.

Trying to catch the motion—Very discouraging—‘ Swish-splash ’—
How to catch the motion—Safety of scull-boat—Advantage of
sculling—Among the trees with common boat—With scull-boat—
After pin-tails and widgeon—Sculling a mallard drake—Going
down the marsh—Descriptive marsh scenery—An inquisitive pin-
tail—Cost of inquisitiveness—How to become a graduate in wild
fowl shooting.

CHAPTER XXIV.
PIN-TAIL—SPRIG-TAIL.

A handsome bird—On some grassy knoll—Wild and restless—Com-
parison between male and female—More plenty in spring—Out in
the overflowed fields—How tantalizing !—Just out of range—A
desperate hunter—At last he getsone down—Such luck !—Lost and

- found—Decoy at times nicely—Use mallard decoys—Look sharp !
high jumpers—Whistle their call often—How they descend verti-
cally—Travellers.

6 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXYV.
TWO SPORTS ; OR, OUT FOR A LARK.

An American and a German-—-Mr. Johnson and Mr. Dietrich—A
wise young man—His innocent chum—They will a hunting go—
Preparations and a start—Grub vergessen—Ounce again they start—
Jim’s dog—Was it a fire?—Down at the ‘‘Docia’”?—A red duck
boat—-Wild ducks—Jim’s idea of decoys—Hans, is tired—They
criticise one another’s hats—Very complimentary—A polite dog—
Hard luck—The dog eats a duek—Hans private opinion publicly
expressed—Both fire at a dueck—Good shot—Jim catches sport at
the base—Who killed the duck? An excited German—America vs.
Germany—Gooseberry rules—The star-spangled banner comes
down—Peaceful Deutchland—A duck retriever—*‘ A sweet voice
yoost like honey ’’—Corporal punishment—Luncha la Vaterlandt
—Mr. Dietrich Sr., and the waiter—The farmer’s boy—Eight mal-
lards—A guest—VFifty cents a piece ?—Casting bread on the water
—A story for home circulation—A trap shoot that never comes off.

CHAPTER XXVI.
A MORNING WITH NATURE, AND AN AFTERNOON WITH DUCKS.

Pleasant recollections—In dreamland—Floating ice—A frosty morn-
ing—A cloudless sky—Brilliant effects of the morning sun—A grand
sight—A midday feeding spot—Alive with mallards picnicking—A
deluge of living feathers—Mr. Drake’s arrival—Driven out—In our
blind—Coaxing them to decoys—All kinds of shots; an incomer—
A high side shot—A difficult shot—My partner—Excitable ? Oh,
no !—Delight in shooting cripples—Suicide of Mrs. Duck—An ac-
cident—Cold fingers—Forty-four mallards—Down the Mississippi
—How we found the ducks—ilark their flight—An assertion—The
fulfillment—How to tell a duck’s age—How a man scented ducks
—An explanation—Hunting with judgment—Doun’t be selfish, but
enjoy Nature—Things worth remembering.

CHAPTER XXVII.
WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE.
Fast disappearing—Where found—Manner of coming to decoys—

Decoy poorly—Early in the morning—In the swamps—In the stub-
ble fields.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE SNOW GOOSE.
Found in Nebraska and Dakota—Associate with other geese—Habits

—Conspicuous in sunlight—Like banks of snow—Flight—Shriek-
ing, discordant cries—Scandal-mongers—-How to get a shot.

CONTENTS. 7
CHAPTER XXIX.
BRANT, OR BRENT GOOSE,

Are they Hutchin’s Geese ?—Nomenclature of the goose family—Old
honkers—Hunted same as Canada Geese.

CHAPTER XXX.
TRUMPETER SWAN.

Strangers in the West—Largest of wild fowl—Spotless white—Syno-
nyms of grace—Known for ages—Antony and Cleopatra—On the
Mississippi—Delighted hunter—Two birds—Habits—How to ap-
proach them—Their flight—‘Their cries.

CHAPTER XXXI.
CANADA GOOSE SHOOTING.

Their ancestry—Known in England centuries ago—In ancient Rome
—Where they breed—Migrate in spring--Still go northward to
Arctic Sea—Easily domesticated—Love home of adoption—Are long
lived—At 80 years of age mischievous—An old gander—What he
may have seen—How they are shoton the Mississippiand Missouri
Rivers—Profile decoys—How they are made——-Dress warm—How
to load for geese—Artificial goose-calls—deceptive in speed—In the
Mississippi among floating ice—How to scull them there—How
they act on approach of scull-boat—Blinds on sand-bars—On a bar
in the Missouri river—By moon-light—In Nebraska, on the Platte
River-Regularity of going and returning to feeding grounds—
Where they feed—Shooting from pits in stubble-fields—A cold
blustering morning—Tenacity of life—The prairies—An army of
Geese—Their encampment—A thousand gray bodies—A narrow
escape—Our blind a success—Calling geese to decoys—How they
come from vast heights—Two pair--*tShake’’—Our visitor—He
stut-stut-stutters—But knows all about the geese—4° below zero—A
fool goose—Words of truth derived from experience.

CHAPTER XXXII.
BOATS,

Hunter should own one—Advantages in having a boat—Checkmated
without one—Mallards just across the stream—Oh., for a boat or a
raft !—The great desideratum—Safety—A hunting boat and not a
skiff—For general use—Caught in the swift flood--A maelstrom,
but we laugh at danger--The boat as a companion—Short of length
—How it looks—Sits lows, but not a drop comes in—Surprised na-
tives—Freedom of the village—Skill required to build a boat—What
one costs—Good after 20 years use--Watch the wagon stakes—Are
you a farmer ?—Ditferent kinds of boats—How to make a boat.

8 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXXIIL

THE SHOT GUN AND HOW TO USE IT.

A review of it—Joseph Manton—Muzzle-loaders—Selection of gun for
wild fowl—10 and 12 gauges—What gun to buy—Established
makers—Damascus, laminated and stub-twist barrels—How made
—30 and 82 inch barrels—Weight of gun—Measurements of stoeck—
Drop of stock—How to select a gun that fits—Position in shooting
—Tendency to under shoot—Snap shooting—Oiled stock—A modified
and full choke—How to keep a gun from rusting—Binocular shoot-
ing—How to test it—How to hold on wild fowl—What is a snap-
shot—A deliberate shot—The deliberate, the successful one at
ducks—Gravity of shot at 40 and 60 yards—Study distance—A
swinging shot—Centered—Shooting behind—Hold over on straight
away birds—Strength of barrels—Cause of bursting—The road to
success.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING.

Large shot—The farmer’s boy—‘‘ Guess we’ll take one’s’’—-The terror
ot the swamp—Knows it all—100 and 135 yards high—Poor powder
—A gun with a reputation—Waich him—TZ hit him—Selfishness—
Faith in 6’s—Soft and chilled shot—Table of sizes and number of
pellets—Sizes for different wild fowl—Eccentricity of guns.

POWDER.

A certain brand—Cheap powder—Kind to use—Desire a change—
Black powder, and its use—Use same grain--—Moist powder—Keep
choke clean—FG—FFG — FFFG— Use coarse powder — Wood
powder—‘‘ Schultze powder ”—Claims for powder.

SHELLS.

Brass shells—Paper shells—Water proof shells—Tight fitting, ete.
LOADING.

Importance of it—A load for every gun—Load with care—Improper,
bad, demoralizing-—Confidence in our own loading—How to load
correctly—Peculiarities of wadding—Tight fitting wads—Felt wads—
Pink edge—Card wads—Sheils must be crimped tightly—Machine
loaded shells—Loading of Schultze’s powder—Of wood powder—
Pressure on black and wood powder.

CHAPTER XXXV.

OUTFITS—BLINDS—DECOYsS—DUCK CALLS.

The duck-hunter--Not a thing of beauty—An easy fit—What kind of
suit—Oh my ! a black hat—How to dress—How clothes should be
made—Boots—Shell box—-A hatchet—Rubber coat—A cotfee pot.

CONTENTS. y
CHAPTER XXXV—Continued.

BLINDS.

Secreted properly—How to build a blind—Not too high—Pattern after
Nature—How to build one in wild rice—Iow, in willows—An arti-
ficial one—Don’t move and don’t talk.

DECOYS.

An explanation, but not an apology—A full knowledge of their use
necessary—Boyish beliefs—-Always tangled—Ice water—Reforma-
tion—Never go without decoys—All kinds of ducks come to them
—Cannot have too many—-Best way to carry them—Kind to have
along—Kinds to use in the West—How to make wooden ones—
Hybrids—Use good decoys—Different makes of decoys—Tame
ducks as decoys—Wild geese decoys.

DUCK CALLS.

A gift to call—A wooden one—Such a noise—Imitates a duck—As
the bird calls ?—The wrong call—A matron—* Sip-sip-sip ”—Study
their call—Nature’s provision—Artificial calls—Goose calls.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS.

Canine character—Its development—Early impressions—Man_ is
their friend—Selecting a dog for wild-fowl shooting—Chesapeake
retrievers—Irish, Water Spaniels—Color chosen—Cross breeds—
What a perfect retriever is like—Avoid black or white in colors—
“*Colonel ” and his wonderful accomplishments—NSiiken coats and
home-spun—Through brush and briar—A Waterloo—In corn-field
after chickens—How to train a dog to retrieve—-Patience--Kindness
and firmness—A puppy trick—How the dog should retrieye-—How
to make him stay home—A day of understanding—‘* Don ’’—He
was a child—How we loved him—His portrait—His great wisdom
—Two sad hearts—His last resting-place—Requiescat in pace—
Constancy and faithfulness of dogs—Instances showing their great
affection.

eee ae

Taconite

‘ fore y ee 7
: lata Yad atte tt 9 ie
‘ pe eal '

* 4! i f ’ " ‘ ;
: ”) ‘ - , ‘
b re aa
LU '
mee ste if mt a
ay y wp 4 : ft
ere « : ; ;
Bi aw o das Diary
v :
: b i =
eo. ! t foe
r ‘c \
i i 1 {ee ways Hee
7 i . i f weay
M THan =
i
ce, f

- ) w
i . 1 » -
15 op - : ¥ .
s . ; otf ) . . . -
eae k i é . + ¥ . *
ae 4) r
: ; C 5 y
y ; , 4
; \ ,
fs ‘ i
Y t .
:
+ aD ; i
a ' a \ :
=) ;
°
. —_
i ie 5 i C
a =
\
ve 7
r
ae) :
fi
1
[ y *
a :
a
:
7 ;
2 i
F
fre! F y ;
.
Poe
: ay

LLLUSTRA TIONS:

, Page
FRONTISPIECE.
MALLARD Dvck, - - - - = - - - - 27
BLuE-WINGED TEAL, - - = - = - - - 45

SHootineg MALLARDS FROM A ScuLL BoaT ON Mississippi, Op. 64

WILSON SNIPE, ; - - = - : - - - 89
SNIPE SHOOTING, - - - - - - - - Op. 96
In THE MarsH OVER DECoys, - - - - - - Op. 128
Canvas-Back Duck, - = - - - - - - 157
QUAIL, - - - - - = z : - S - 175
His First Pornt, - - - - - - Op. 184
Rep-HeEap Duck, - - : - - - . - eee col
Pin-Tam Duck, - - - - - - - + - 219
CANADA GOOSE, - Ore ae = oayh een ee! ga Oa

CANADA GOOSE SHOOTING, - : - : . - Op. 288

INTRODUCTION.

In presenting this book to the public, it is with the
intention of supplying a long felt want, and to furnish,
to those who desire such knowledge a complete exposition
of the science of Wild Fowi Shooting as applied to in-
land waters. The grave responsibility resting on me
to successfully complete an undertaking of this charac-
ter is fully realized; for Iamaware that with one excep-
tion, no American has ever attempted to write a book
exclusively on the subject of Wild Fowl Shooting. To
do so, and to do it beyond the scope of intelligent
criticism, one must be blessed with peculiar opportuni-
ties for observation and study, besides possessed of the
gift to disclose to others, in a pleasing and instructive
manner, the researches of his mind, and the discoveries
of a life-time, in the forests and fields, with Nature and
birds.

An inherited love for field sports showed itself in
early childhood, and I enjoyed nothing better than to
wander through the blossoming fields, along the hill-
sides, or sitting at some gurgling brook, splashing my
feet in the limpid water, to study animal and animated
life. The years glided by, and my desire to learn more
of birds grew with me,—especially was this the case
with wild fowl. I tried to learn of them from books,

14 INTRODUCTION.

but what I most wished for, to know how to successfully
pursue them with a gun, no man seemed to write of.
I can recall how often in those early days I searched
every book on sporting literature, desirous of learning
something on this subject. But while books have been
written ad infinitum on dogs, sporting reminiscences,
boats and game birds, yet on this subject, one I longed
for most, the scientific hunting of wild fowl, there ap-
peared but short articles engrafted into other books.
My secret disappointment, then, was the spur that urged
me to this work, for I resolved that what books denied
me, I would learn from wild Nature,—she should be my
book. And under the broad canopy of the sky, with
the trees, the flowers, the grass and the water, as my
classmates, I would accept her as my teacher, and _ be-
come a pupil who would profit by my opportunities.

Knowing there are so many young men who feel as
I did, anxious to learn the secrets of wild fowl shooting,
it affords me pleasure to present this work, for from it
they can learn in a few hours, the results of my life’s
studies.

To those who are more advanced in the art, and who
have profited by their experience, my fraternal wish is
to present in attractive form, and bring back to them,
remembrances of many happy days they have passed in
wild fowl shooting. For judging them by myself, one
of our greatest pleasures is, when some one paints, with
words of truth, scenes we have so often enjoyed.

Field sports are either elevating or degrading. I
choose to make them the former, and the teachings set
forth in this book are of that character. Sportsmen are
not and should not be prone to selfishness. I speak to
him who by the ties of business cares is bound to close

INTRODUCTION, 15

confinement, who enjoys the pure air, the refreshing
prairie winds, the glad sunshine, far from city life. One
should not hunt for the purpose of seeing what havoc
he can make among the feathered tribe, nor participate
in indiscriminate slaughter on a chosen site, for club
hunts are barbarous; rather let him go forth for wild
fowl in the crisp October air, when leaves are fluttering
to the earth, when the woods and fields assume a sombre
hue, when sighing winds breathe through the tree tops,
when the acorns are dropping, and the pattering of the
shucks beneath some, tall hickory tree tells him the
fox squirrel is laying in his winter’s store. One who
cannot enjoy such scenes, destiny did not intend fora
hunter.

“Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher,

One impulse from the vernal wood
May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.”

A creative mind made all animate things subservient
to the will of man, and if the amateur hunter will but
try, it is within his power to divine the thoughts of
wild fowl as readily as the stars are read in the sky.
A study is therefore necessary of the habits and resorts
of these birds, where they are going and why, their
peculiar calls, whether they are cries of fright, or in-
nocent cacklings of satisfaction.

As the mallard is the duck universally found through-
out the West, it is the one most fully treatedof. Snipe
cannot strictly be classifiedas wild fowl, but being found
in the marsh I have taken the liberty to write of them,
believing the reader will justify me after reading the
article.

16 INTRODUCTION.

The ornithological descriptions of wild fowl are taken
from Audubon and Wilson, but comparatively few
sportsmen care for these scientific portraits of the birds,
at the same time they are handy for reference, and, as
a sportsman friend says, “ there is no one thing that
affords the same satisfaction to a hunter, after he has
fallen over a brush pile, while chasing a crippled duck,
as to be able to express his opinion of that duck in
correct ornithological language.”

Wild fowl shooting is a science ; and when one con-
siders how little it is understood by those who think
they are experts, it is surprising. Many hunters of
means give it no especial thought, although they are
excellent shots. They have stated times of going, and
certain localities to go to; when they arrive at their
destination some local hunter takes them where the
birds are and their joy iscomplete. No need of especial
thought on their part, for wealth carves the way to
success with them. But to the average hunter, his
success depends on his knowledge of the habits of the
birds, and unless he is skilled in his calling, he is apt
to be disappointed over the day’s hunt. There is but
one remedy for him, that is, study and observation.

The sculling of wild fowl is a science of itself. This
method of hunting seems confined to a comparatively
small territory of the vast West. In this volume it is
explained in its many forms. Possibly the reader may
think there is mentioned with great frequency the
handling of decoys, the building of blinds, and proper
aim,—but they are the primary studies, the reading,
writing and arithmetic of scientific wild fowl shooting,
and must be thoroughly understood before one can
think of graduating. They cannot be learned too well,

INTRODUCTION. 17

and he who desires to become proficient in this line of
hunting should commit them to memory, and make them
applicable when the occasion presents itself.

The mechanical construction and the choke boring
of fire arms I have avoided discussing, for they are
secrets of the trade, and could be of no possible benefit
to the majority of my readers. This book has not been
gotten up for the purpose of advertising any particular
gun or ammunition, and the reader will find no partiality
in that respect. My sincere desire being, to give to the
sporting brotherhood, a book instructive and elevating
to the young, full of pleasing reminiscences to the ex-
perienced, and one worthy of beinga fireside companion
in every home; one that your wife or your sister can
open and see that a man can be a sportsman and a

gentleman.
9

.?

; Ma Pa Rexl”
: & r a 7 .
: ) eB : ; a) if .
epee 9 (hat lel a Par
é ; a af 7 Pale at “

| MS iis
iy a “s et
PN ae | bathl Wh aan oo a oo

ay a i a
7 ry uy I FS ~. ay, Ay 7 iy 7 mule 4 t 4
: we ao eo :
Mi re e tel '
’ ; fies ela Nie
1. 4 ,
iz : fi P a c'
iy ; ren) ee CL | . i
' re | 1 -
a 5 = aa , ~ [ F.
Wy ,. 4 "
ban Py .
yA i
: vu
‘ . :
» aay.
fy o
Ry
B 4
yW ff a
7 ; ;
Ae = :
* ; t
Bera) hex
A] 5 ioe Y j
ao
> Le
ees
ve
=
>
a
Caer
! : Wa
.< a
i (a
my
= 9
‘. ‘

WILD FOWL SHOOTING,

CHAP TERT.
REVERIES.

“The childhood shows the man,
As morning shows tlie day.’’

WHEN Thomas Hood wrote those beautiful lines, ‘ I
remember, I remember, the place where I was born,” he
had passed the days of his youth, and was in the bloom
of a vigorous manhood. Of the many beautiful poems,
emanating from his fertile brain, this one must have
afforded him the greatest pleasure in writing, and no
doubt was the one he loved best. Itnot only came from
his brain, but sprang from the deepest recesses of his
heart. ‘He remembered, he remembered, the place
where he was born.” Why did he remember it? Be-
cause, after years had rolled over his head, changing
the golden hair of youth into the sombre hue of man-
hood, streaking with gray the hair of his later years, he
could look.back into the past, ruminate over the joys
and sorrows of his life, and recall with pleasure and
gratification the scenes of his early childhood. And
who cannot ?

I have in my mind’s eye at this moment, a youth of

20 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

twelve summers, a laughing, romping, rosy-cheeked lad,
overflowing with animal spirits, his bright, blue eyes
and smiling face an ever welcome sight to his compan-
ions. Whistling and singing all the livelong day.
His father, distinguished for his eminent legal abilities,
forgot all business cares, and ever indulgent, became a
boy again when with his romping son. Brothers and
sisters had he. His home stood on the hillside, and a
happy one it was, made so by fraternal and filial love.
That this boy should learn to love field sports, the dog
and gun, is not a matter of surprise, as his father was
passionately fond of them.

Wesee him in the month of June, that month of rosi-
est hue, when all nature is dressed in holiday attire,
roaming through field and meadow, over hills and vyal-
leys ; or, dreamily sitting on the bank of the murmur-
ing brook, his wandering thoughts far away, as he list-
ens to the carol of bright plumaged birds, his nostrils
filled with the delicate odor of blossoming flowers, his
eyes entranced by the surpassing beauty of Nature every-
where around him, in the heavens above, in the earth
below.

The air, laden with the perfume of flowers,
Delights his senses ; he notes not the hours.
Bright butter-cups, daisies. sweet violets,

Lure him on, and he forgets

School, playmates, joys, disappointment,

And rambles amid Nature in sweet content.

He hears strange sounds. There in his sight,
A mottled bird calls to him, ‘‘ Bob White,’”’ ‘‘ Bob White,”’
‘** Bob White,’’ he says, whistling from his post,
Then looks at the boy, as if he were lost,

And wonders what he is doing here alone,

So young, so small, so far from home.
““©oo—Coo—” is uttered by the turtle dove,
As she mourntully calls her truant love,

Then flying and alighting on the topmost limb,
Silently looks down and watches him.

at

REVERIES. 21

Walking slowly. tramping wearily,

He hears the brown thrush, singing cheerily,
Sitting, flitting, before him all the way,

Bobbing, peering, singing his roundelay.

Weary with walking, he wanders in quest

Of some friendly tree, beneath its shade to rest ;
Picks off the flowers, holds them in his hand,
Looks around, sees more, at his command ;

He hears the rippling of a babbling brook,

And sees it concealed in a hidden nook,

The traveller would have passed it by,

But for its welcoming, gladsome cry.

Listening to the lark, the robin’s matin,

He sees a flower, dressed in golden satin ;

Places it with the others, red, pink, and green,
Says : ‘‘ Many a flower is born to blush unseen,”’
But this one ; a lady’s slipper ; is so rare,

It shall not, ‘‘ waste its fragrance on the desert air ”’
The waning day bids him he must start,
Regretfully sighing, he rises, lingers, then departs.
In after years, he often recalls these hours,

Passed with Nature, birds, and sweet smelling flowers.

Who, among his young companions, could imitate the
ery of the quail, the duck, the jay, the goose, the crow,
better than he ? could send the shaft further, or hit with
big headed arrow the penny oftener ?

And then, when the happy and proud owner of his
first gun, a light single-barrel muzzle-loader! In my
imagination, I can see him now, gun in hand, a brass
cap box filled with percussion caps in his vest pocket,
his coat pockets stuffed with paper for wadding ; around
his neck, suspended by a string at his right side, an old
vanilla bottle, filled with powder, while hanging at his
left, another bottle half full of shot ; walking first by his
side, then behind him, are his comrades, junior in years,
his body guard and retrievers. Thus he marched forth
on an October day searching for quail. At intervals,
imitating the call of the bird by whistling, while occa-
sionally, one of his younger companions would laugh out
in childish glee, rolling his eyes and opening wide his
mouth, while ear-splitting notes issue from his throat,

22 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

“ Oh-ee-he, Oh-ee-he.” Great days and happy ones
were they for that boy. Then again we see him a few
years later; he now has a double-barrelled gun ; his ac-
coutrements are also changed. Now he hunts on horse-
back, riding a pony, known for her gentle disposition.
Approaching a slough, he hears the flutter of wings,
over his head, and a little to the left is a flock of ten
mallards. He fires at the leader, and kills the third one.
No soliloquizing for him; it doesn’t enter his head that he
made a clean miss, but he regrets the fact that his gun
scatters so much on birds, when it makes such an
excellent target on paper.

He sees ducks lighting in a pond. How well he
knows that hole! Often and often has he wormed his
lithe body toward that spot to meet his reward by
knocking over a mallard, sometimes a pair of them. As
he crawls along, he stops for breath, then peers. silent-
ly over the waving grass, trying to catch a glimpse of
the ducks. He looks back at the pony, while she,
gentle, faithfull Nell, untethered, obedient to her
master and companion’s call waits for him, and nibbles
and munches away at the succulent bottom grass. Those
were the happy days of his young life. No cares, no
responsibilities, nothing to mar the mirror of his boy-
hood days. All was with him unalloyed pleasure and
happiness. To be sure, he was vexed with school,
especially when the wild pigeon was seeking its northern
home; but the vexation was borne with complacency,
because he knew that after school time was his, and
the flight of the pigeon would continue until the man-
tle of darkness was thrown over the earth, until after
the going down of the setting sun. We see him in the-

REV ERIES. 23

summer time on the islands, among the willows, birch
and maple, pushing himself along with youthful im-
petuosity and strength through the brush, over fallen
logs, perspiring under a July sun, seeking the saucy
woodeock. We see the bird escape from behind an old
pile of driftwood, dart to the top of the nearest tree, hear
the report of the gun, see the cock dart for the ground
again, then run skulking away to hide, while chagrin
is depicted on that young face. With setter he once
more finds the secreted bird ; we see the bird rise again
to glide over the tree tops; hear again the report of the
gun but instead of the bird darting to the ground, run-
ning and hiding, the air is sprinkled with floating feath-
ers, the bird falls a victim to the youthful hunter’s care-
fulaim No look of chagrin and disappointment now
o’erspreads his face. Instead, his eyes sparkle with
brillianey, a quiet smile of confidence and satisfaction
plays around his mouth, as he fondly pats the head of
the setter who brings to him the dead bird. Perspir-
ing and thirsty, he walks over the fallen brush, among
willow twigs, and doffing his hat seats himself on an
old stump at the water’s edge. Ever on the alert, he
glances up and down the stream, knowing that a pair
of green-winged teal may drop in unannounced. A
dark shadow flits before him ; looking hastily around, he
sees alighting in the soft mud within thirty feet of him,
a magnificent woodcock. Mirabile visu! He now has
an opportunity to watch unperceived this sagacious
bird. The sun shining on its dusky plumage, the
woodcock appears in all its wild freedom. It looks up
and down the shore, gently shakes itself, then, as if
an ardent admirer of its own beauty, struts backward
and forward; now it delicately inserts its bill into the

24 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

loamy soil, is dissatisfied with the result; repeating
the operation again and again, until it seems to
find the desired spot, and sinks its bill the entire
length to its very eyes. Not content with this, it
lies flat on its breast with bill hidden from view, and con-
tentedly remains there, its eyes blinking in the bright
sun. This was something new to the young boy, he
had never seen anything of the kind before, neither has
he since. He kicked a dry stick, frightening the bird.
Quick as a flash the woodcock sprung from its soft bed
and started across the pond. ‘Too late! A sharp re-
port rung out on the still air, and the bird fell dead,
making a gentle splash in the water, while tiny waves
retreated from the fallen body.

The nexth month, August, we see this same lad, for
he is but a lad, not yet fifteen, among the prairie
chickens. His companion a youth about the same age,
with them a pointer “Jewel,” a dog old in years and
experience, still untiring and never ceasing in her ef-
forts to find the birds. She it was that taught those
boys the most likely place for birds. ‘They follow her
with confidence, past experience having shown them
she knows more of the birds than they. She it was
that had taught them where to seek the birds morning,
noon and evening.

In the fall we see this youth among the ducks, taking
advantage of their morning flight, finding them in their
midday retreats, shooting them in the evening over de-
coys, or at some point as they go to their roosting-place
stealthily sculling them along the banks of sloughs,
bayous and in the running water. Or, tramping through
the underbrush, and along the hillsides, after the whirr-
ing ruffed grouse.

REVERIES. ss

Such was the experience and opportunities had by
this youth before he attained the age of fifteen. Is it a
surprise then that when a score of years had been ad-
ded to his fifteen that he should love to recall the days
of his youth, or that the inherited love of dogs and
guns should still claim its strong hold on him ?

These little scenes and incidents of boyhood are re-
cited, the writer feeling that they will recall pleasant
memories to the mind of the reader, and place him
temporarily back, to the scenes of his childhood, that
like Hood he will say :

“* T remember, I remember,
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn ;
He never came too soon,
Nor brought too long a day ;

But now, I often wish the nights
Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember,

The fir trees, dark and high,

I used to think their slender spires
Were close against the sky.

It was childish ignorance,

But now ’tis little joy

To know I’m farther off from heaven,
Than when I was a boy.”

CHAPTER I.

MALLARD DUCK.
(Anas Boschas.)

*Tis said, that when once a Mallard chooses her mate
And death, or accident, destroys her lover,

She mourns her loss, submits to fate,

But during that year, chooses no other.

Nor a bird in the United States is more familiarly
known than the Mallard. It is seen throughout the
Western States and Territories, and the chief object of
pursuit in wild fowl shooting. Their habits, resorts and
the best methods to hunt them successfully are so fully
treated of in other parts of this volume, that it would
be like adding surplusage to an explanative treatise,
were I to refer to them very fully here.

Their migration begins in early spring; indeed, be-
fore spring has actually come, they wend thei flight

298 WILD FOWL SHOOTING

toward the far distant North, in flocks of from 20 to
100. Their flight is strong and regular, and their
speed will average from 60 to 100 miles an hour.
While their flight is early, from Southern climes and
Southern waters, they are in no great haste to reach
their objective point of destination, and they tarry on
their journey through the Middle, Western, and Northern
States. The approaching spring time, the warm, gentle
rains, the bright, melting rays of the midday sun, soften
the earth in frozen corntields, melts the snows and
causes torrents of water to swell long inactive streams ;
the low lands are submerged; the tall bottom grass is
hidden beneath the fast rising flood; the water seeks
the highest ridges, and then merrily ripples and gur-
gles as it flows along. Atsuch places they drop in and
rest, and feed before continuing their journey. On the
pin oak ridges they best love to tarry, and with water
just deep enough to wander over the ridges, half swim-
ming, half wading, they flounder along, tipping up
their plump bodies, as their glossy heads disappear be-
neath the watcr, searching for the anticipated acorn ; or
swim in pairs beneath tall trees whose water-covered
roots they skim so lightly over. °Tis in such places
that a few weeks later their love-making begins, and
the duck after looking with maidenly modesty among
the handsome fellows she daily meets in the woods, pic-
nicking beneath the forest trees of birch, willow, elm, oak
and hickory, or swimming around through thickets of
crab-apple trees, she cousents to become the bride of
one. This consent is published and known by their con-
stantly being together, forsaking all others, and cleay-
ing one unto the other. Their constancy is marvelous,
and it is said that once they have chosen their mate

MALLARD DUCK. 29

a

their affection is so strong that nothing but death sep-
arates them,—that even death itself does not alienate
their love, but that the balance of the year is passed by
the survivor in mourning for its lost love, and it chooses
no other mate. This is an argument frequently used
by advocates of the abolishment of spring duck shoot-
ing. I have often dreamily sat in the bottom of my
boat, snugly in dry hay, hidden behind an improvised
blind, and watched a pair of these handsome ducks as
they drifted, floated or swam near me, entirely uncon-
scious of the fact that an enemy was near. It was al-
ways a pretty sight tome to see them, so careless, so
happy, feeding, chattering, or dreamily dozing within
close gun shot They would be constantly near one
another and apparently at all times watchful lest they
should become separated. First the drake would swim
in advance, closely followed by his brown, yellow and
mottled companion ; then, the duck enticed to one side
by acorns dropping with a “ker-plump” into the water,
or sighting the tiny brown and red berries dropping into
the flowing stream, or seeds upon its surface, would
swim to them, thus temporarily deserting her lord and
master. But he was not willing to be deserted, and
would swim slowly after her retreating form, his hand-
some body combining so many beautiful colors, colors
of lead, chestnut, black, gray and glossy green, varying
in brilliancy and beauty as the sun’s bright rays shone
so brightly on him, as it straggled through overhanging
trees. As the drake swims along nearing us, it seems
that in his dark eye we see glistening there the affec-
tionate love he has for his modest, dusky mate, and she,
in her haste for the tempting food, has not forgotten
her chosen mate, but turns her head of golden brown,

30 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

archly looks around, as if to say, “Are you coming?
Are you coming?” He seems to interpret her inmost
thoughts, rises on his feet, preens himself, and hastily
swims, following her, while there issues from his vel-
vet covered throat alow, vibrating ‘* M-amph, M-amph,”
which causes the blood of the hunter to tingle with
electric fervor. As some dark object passes between
us and the sun, a flitting shadow is cast upon the water.
Without moving our body oureyesare cast up, and we see
a pair coming in, decoyed by those in the water. They
seem to stand in the air, momentarily held up by their
swift moving, fluttering wings. We hear the “ whew”
of their wings, as the slight breeze carries the sound to
us, and slowly dropping, gracefully descending, sus-
tained by their strong wings, they alight beside their
friends, exchanging low chuckling greetings, and each
pair swims off by themselves. At this time we notice
what we have so often seen before,—the marked con-
trast between the male and female mallard, in both
beauty and size. The male is larger, stronger, and en-
dowed with more brilliant plumage.

The breeding place of the mallard, like all other
water-fowl, is in the far North, and yet as the season
advances from early to late, snow storms, rough weather,
cold March winds, winds that have forgotten the time
they were due, and with their noisy howl and dismal
shrieking, convert what should be balmy April into a
cold, disagreeable, almost wintry month. The cold
winds and raw days, seem at times to unsettle the
ducks, and they delay their departure from time to time
until spring lapses intosummer. Before this time they
have discovered luxuriant feeding grounds, food in
plenty, and solitary retreats in vast marshes of wild

MALLARD DUCK. 31

rice. They have been there for perhaps weeks, undis-
turbed. Instinct prompts them to lay their eggs, to
bring up their young; it also tells them they should go
farther North, far beyond the possibility of human in-
terference. But a few dislike leaving a place which
they have become attached to,—so they make their
nests, lay their eggs and rear their brood. This does
not often happen, still it does once ina while. Late
in May I have found their nests, and unintentionally
routed off the mother bird. Once, while after prairie
chickens, my dog drove into the water, from the tall
grass at the edge of a large pond, the parent duck with
her flock of half-grown youngsters. This was in this
country on the first of August, years ago. The color,
size and number of the eggs laid are same as tame
ducks. The tame or domesticated ducks are descend-
ents of these wild mallards. One can see a great
similarity at a glance, and a person may select two
ducks, one male and one female, from a flock of
tame ones, and the most experienced duck shooter
cannot tell the difference between the tame and wild
ones. .

After they have hatched their young in the far North,
and time, practice, and experience have added strength
and growth to their young bodies, they are ready to start
out with the old ones, returning to their winter homes
in the South. They follow the weather, that is, as the
days grow cool and frost appears, they go but a slight
distance, then stop, feed and rest. The desire to move
along, the inherited love of wandering, induces some
to move still farther forward. In this way the rivers,
ponds and marshes are filled with them in the places
where they are known to frequent. At times most ex-

OZ WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

cellent shooting may be had in a certain locality, while
at other times in the same place, under apparently the
same circumstances, no shooting will be found. This
is explainable. The first time they found plenty of
water and food; the second, they found neither ; or,
perhaps the water and no food. Mallards want plenty
of water; they must have itand will have it. If they
cannot find it ina place they are accustomed to frequent,
they will seek other places and keep going until they
do find it. This water they don’t want to drink, but
they want it to live in, to moisten up the soil, to soften
the mud, so they can get at the acorns, to make rank
rushes and rice roots, to cause a place where wild rice
and berries and smart-weed can and will float on the
surface, so they may swim through and among the rice
stalks feeding as they go.

There is a marked difference in the flesh of mallards.
This difference is noticeable among those killed in
wooded places, where they feed on seeds, larvee, and
acorns, and those which feed exclusively in corn fields,
—the latter are much finer eating, more juicy, and when
ready for baking, their plump bodies present a golden
appearance, precisely the color of the corn they had
eaten. I do not wish to be understood as saying that
those killed on timbered rivers are not fat and good
eating, but they will not average as well in fatness as
their corn-fed cousins. The plumpest, heaviest lot
of mallards I ever saw were killed by a friend of mine
and myself, while hunting in Western Iowa some years
ago. We killed one hundred and thirty-six, and they
were the handsomest lot of ducks I ever saw,—before
orsince. ‘They were shot in the stubble and cornfields
in Hamilton county. It was in the month of November ;

MALLARD DUCK. 38

they had been frolicking in wheat and cornfields,
gorging themselves for six weeks.

The different methods of hunting mallards will be
found throughout this book, under appropriate head-
ings.

Anas Boschas: Bill, about the length of the head,
higher than broad at the base, depressed and widened
toward the end, rounded at the tip. Upper mandible,
with a dorsal outline, sloping and a litle concave ; the
ridge of the base broad and flat toward the end, broadly
convex, as are the sides; the edges soft and rather ob-
tuse ; the marginal lamelle transverse, 50 oneach; the
ungines oval, curved, abrupt at the end. Nasal groove
elliptical, sub-basal, filled by the soft membrane of the
bill; nostrils sub-basal, placed near the ridge, longi-
tudinal, elliptical, pervious. Lower mandible, slightly
curved upward with the angles very long, narrow and
rather pointed; the lamellz about sixty.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed; neck
rather long and slender; body, full, depressed; feet
short, stout, placed a little behind the centre of the
body; legs bare a little above the joint; tarsus short, a
little compressed anteriorly with scutilla, laterally and
behind with small reticulated scales. Hind toe extreme-
ly small with a very narrow membrane ; third toe long-
est; fourth a little shorter, but longer than the second,
all the toes connected by reticulated membranes; the
outer with a thick margin, the inner with a margin ex-
tended into a slightly lobed web. Claws small, arched,
compressed, rather acute ; that of the middle toe much
longer with dilated, thin, inner edge.

Plumage, dense, soft, elastic ; of the head and neck,
short, blended and splendent; of the other parts in

2

vo

834. WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

general, broad and rounded. Wings of moderate length,
acute; primaries narrow and tapering; the second
longest, the first very little shorter, secondaries broad,
curved inward, the inner elongated and tapering; tail
short, much rounded, of sixteen acute feathers, of which
the four central are recurved.

Bill, greenish yellow; iris, dark brown ; feet, orange
red; head and upper part of neck, deep green, a ring
of white about the middle of the neck ; lower part ante-
riorly and fore part of breast, dark brownish chestnut;
fore part of back, light yellowish brown, tinged with gray,
the rest of the back, brownish black; the rump, black,
splendent, with green and purplish blue reflections, as
on the recurved tail feathers. Upper surface of wings,
grayish brown; the scapulars lighter, except the inner
webs, and with anterior dorsal feathers, minutely un-
dulated with brown. The speculum, or beauty spot, on
about ten of the secondaries, is of a brilliant changing
purple and green, edged with velvet, black and white ;
the anterior black and white being on the secondary
coverts; breast, sides, and abdomen very pale gray, mi-
nutely undulated with darker; lower tail coverts black
with blue reflections.

Length to end of tail, 24 inches; extent of wings 56 ;
weight, from two and a half to three pounds.

Adult Female : Bill, black in the middle, dull orange
at the extremities and along the edges; iris as in the
male, as are the feet. The general color of the upper
parts is pale yellowish brown streaked, and spotted with
dusky brown; the feathers of the head are narrowly
streaked; of the back with the margin and central
streak yellowish brown, the rest of the scapulars simi-
lar, but with the light streak on the outer web. The

MALLARD DUCK. aa15)

Wings are nearly as in the male, the speculum similar,
but with less green. The lower parts are dull olive,
deeper on the lower neck, and spotted with brown.

Length, 22 inches; weight, from two pounds to two
and one half.

fl -

AGL ar AS ro
ens ott : rie A
Pay ai Pry ;
rin a Mey twas el Av
. q 7 ‘ rs | or) 1 lig ¢

Wetec A)

iL Oe one) Pa Si
2 ' -

a

WOOD DUCK—SUMMER DUCK. 37

CHAPTER III.

WOOD DUCK—SUMMER DUCK.

‘Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets of daisies white
Out o’er the grassy lea.”

THE Wood duck, or Summer duck, is the most beauti-
ful in color and plumage of any of the duck species.
The glossy brilliancy of the soft, dense feathers, the
perfect blending of all the colors,—completing all im-
aginable shades,—makes the Summer duck one of in-
describable beauty. We have all, time and again, seen
sights, that were impressed so deeply upon our minds,
that time could not blot them out; still, the beautiful
images carved in our memories, standing in relief, like
a cameo, emblazoned on our minds, we could not im-
part to others ; we knew they were there, we constant-
ly see them, and yet the words at our command are
inadequate to tell of the hidden splendor we see so
clearly, yet cannot describe. So one feels, when he at-
tempts to paint with words, the brilliant plumage of
the summer duck. There is not a bird that visits the
North in field, forest or stream, that can compare with
this one, in magnificent coloring. They are rightly
named Summer duck, they are so different from all
others. Weare apt to associate ducks, and perhaps
correctly too, with cold and inclement weather, and
when we have the one we anticipate the other. But

38 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

the Summer ducks, come in mild weather, stay with
us, breed and bring up their young along running
creeks, where alders and maples, willows and birch bend
fraternally toward each other across some babbling
brook, their topmost limbs intertwining affectionately,
exchanging friendly greetings with each other, as the
night and day winds of summer cause them to gently
rub together.

sd are the places these ana birds frequent, and
bring up their young. They love to swim in the shal-
low water, male and female together, surrounded by
tiny forms of yellow,—their young, all busily engaged
in nipping tender buds, picking up seeds, or chasing
some fat. bug as it twinkles on the water. How happy
they are in such places! Swimming at the side and
under overhanging banks, that seem like huge bluffs in
comparison with their diminutive bodies, turning their
little heads sidewise as they watch a fly or grasshopper,
as it clings to some waving blade of grass, just on the
brink of the shore, or watching it with still greater in-
terest, as it flies or jumps so quickly down on some
moss-covered stone,—their little stomachs craving the
delicacy, while their father and mother watch them
with pride and solicitous interest. Then to see them
when a fly or bug drops into the water ; the whole flock
scramble for it in haste, pell-mell, the fortunate one
gulps it down, fearing no indigestion, while the others,
foiled, but not discouraged, swim along more deter-
mined than before. When they reach some old sunken
log, its black body anchored in the shallow water, the
little ones discover a perfect horde of bugs floating at its
edge. The mother clambers on to the log, and bask-
ing in the sunshine, preens herself, stands up to* her

WOOD DUCK—SUMMER DUCK. 39

extreme height, then on her tip-toes, rapidly flits
her wings to sustain her body, while the sun shines
warmly and brightly on her, bringing plainly to view
the golden red and purple of her wings, her dusky head
shaded with green, the pure white of her dainty throat,
and the yellow and mottled brown of her body. We
admire her beauty,—and yet, when we look at her
mate, as he swims about in the shadow of the trees,
then emerging into the open and unobstructed light,
the beauty of the female is made feeble by the compari-
son. He looks at his mate admiringly, as she sits on
the log, her bright eyes constantly watching with ma-
ternal care the young brood at her feet. The male con-
stantly calls with plaintive cry “* Whee—Whee,” com-
mencing in a modulated quivering tone, and ending
about four notes higher, dwelling on and prolonging
the last note. Such a mellow call it is, so sweet and
full of solicitude. Its plaintiveness has often reminded
me of the mournful cry of the turtle dove.

*““ Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most inelancholy.”

The drake, noticing the handsome coloring on the
reflected feathers of his quiet mate as she sits so con-
tentedly in the bright sunshine, while not jealous of his
spouse, at the same time, thinks he too is clothed in
gaudy raiment. Suddenly he springs up, and alights
on the outstretched limb of an old dead tree, whose
trunk is whitened with age and the action of the ele-
ments. How strange he seems up so high! resting
contentedly and at home on the limb. He appears out
of place, sitting so complacently in the tree, and yet,
he is doing nothing uncommon, nothing unusual: for

40 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

not only does he and his mate alight in trees, but they
often build their nests in its crotches, and raise their
young until strong enough to partially care for them-
selves. It looks odd to see them in trees; about as
strange and out of place, as would a turkey or chicken
be swimming in the water. As the drake alights on
the tree, he settles in the fulllight of the midday sum-
mer’s sun; the warm winds play through grass and
trees ; pond-lilies, in snowy whiteness or in yellow bon-
nets, nod gently in response to the breeze, as it moves
so quietly over the rippling water, carrying to the se-
ereted hunter delicate and sensuous perfumes. The
drake gazes intently in the distance, as if his sharp eyes
could penetrate woods and fields, and furtively looks
around, as if anticipating the approach of an enemy.
He sees nothing to alarm him, hears nothing but the
faint tinkle of a bell, emitting its irregular and not un-
musical sound as the bell-cow walks slowly along, graz-
ing on the bottom-grass. He bends his head gracefully,
and looks down on his mate and their progeny. Each
turn of his head, every movement of his body, discloses
some new brilliancy of plumage, and he appears like a
tropical bird, strayed from palmettoes and fig-trees, and
lost amid the woods of the North. Itseems to us that
such as he would feel lost, ina climate like ours, even in
midsummer, for never in Northern woods has his equal
in beauty been seen. Looking at him as he sits there, we
wonder if he really knows how exceedingly handsome
he is; his clean-cut head, making a perfect outline
against the blue sky ; his bright, sparkling eyes enclosed
with lids of deepest carmine; the long tuft descending
from the back of his head, and floating in a graceful
plume down his neck; the upper part of his head be-

WOOD DUCK--SUMMER DUCK. 41

tween the eye and bill a deep green,—so gorgeous in
the sun’s bright rays that it looks highly polished and
seems to cast off sparks of variegated colors, as it merges
into purple and runs down his neck, exposing a throat
of purest whiteness. Then we notice his back of red-
dish brown; the rump of similar color tinged with
green; then greenish black, and then his plumage runs
from dense black to purest white, combining all the
coloring imaginable, and adding to these tinges light
and dark shades, and reflected shadows that are simply
indescribable,—I have often looked at a rainbow, with
all the perfect and beautiful colors known to Nature, and
yet it seems to me that a Summer duck has them all.
Has the reader ever seen the Summer ducks at home
raising their broods? If you have, and studied them
unseen, or unheard, watching them in their wild free-
dom, showing their peculiar traits, tenderly guarding
their young on a summer’s afternoon, while you lay
full length in the grass, securely hidden, watching with
growing interest each movement, entranced by the
scene, completely carried away with the changing
beauty, and the brilliant plumage of the birds, you will
know why I admire the Summer duck.

Their flight through the woods is very swift, and at
dusk, they move from place to place, darting rapidly
among the trees. In marshy places, they are found in
little open spots, around brush piles and muskrat houses.
They are good eating, but afford me the more pleasure
seeing them in the woods, and I never shoot them un-
less there are no other ducks to be found.

The Wood Duck or Summer Duck; Adult Male :—
Bill, shorter than the head, deeper than broad at the
base, depressed toward the end, slightly narrowed to-

42 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

a

ward the middle of the ungines, the frontal angles pro-
longed and pointed.

Head of moderate size. Neck, rather long and slender.
Body, full and depressed. Wings,rather small. Feet,
very short, strong, placed rather far back ; tarsus, very
short, considerably depressed.

Plumage, dense, soft, blended, generally glossed.
Feathers of the middle of the head and upper part of
the hind neck, very narrow, elongated, and uncurved ;
of the rest of the head and upper part of the neck very
short; of the back and lower parts in general broad
and rounded, excepting on the shoulder before the
wings, where they are enlarged, very broad and abrupt.
Wings, of moderate length, narrow and acute. Tail of
moderate length, rather broad, much rounded, of six-
teen round feathers.

Upper mandible, bright red at the base, yellowish at
the sides; the intermediate space along the ridge and
the ungines, black, as in the lower mandible and its
membranes. Iris and edges of eyelids, bright red. Feet
dull orange; claws black; upper part of the head and
space between the bill and the eye, deep green and
highly glossed ; below the latter space a patch of dark
purple and a larger one of the same color, but lighter
behind the eye; side of the neck, its hind part under
the crest and the middle all round very dark purple.
Throat, for more than three inches, pure white, with a
process on each side a little beyond the eye, and an-
other nearly half way down the throat. Sides of the
neck and its lower part anteriorly, reddish purple, each
feather over the latter with a triangular white tip.
Middle of the neck behind, back, and rump, very dark
reddish brown; the latter deeper and tinged with

WOOD DUCK--SUMMER DUCK. 43

green. Upper tail coverts and tail, greenish black.
Some of the lateral tail coverts, dull reddish purple; a
few on either side with their filaments light red. Smaller
wind coverts, alula, and primaries dull grayish brown.
Most of the latter with part of their outer web grayish
white, and their inner, toward the tip, darker and
glossed with green. Secondary quills tipped with
white; the outer webs green, with purple reflections.
Those of the inner secondaries and scapulars velvet-
black, their inner webs glossed and changing to green.
The broad feathers anterior to the wings are white,
terminated with black. Breast and abdomen, grayish
white feathers, under the wings yellowish gray, minute-
ly undulated with black and white bars. Lower wing
coverts and axillary feathers, white barred with grayish
brown. Lower tail coverts dull grayish brown. Length,
to end of tail, 20 1-2 inches ; extent of wings, 28.

Adult Female: The female is considerably smaller,
and differs greatly from the male in coloring. The
feathers of the head are not elongated, but those of the
upper part of the neck are slightly so. In other re-
spects the plumage presents nothing very remarkable
and is similar to that of the male. Bill, blackish brown.
Feet, dusky, tinged with yellow. Upper part of the
head, dusky, glossed with green. Sides of the head
and neck, and the hind part of the latter, light brownish
gray. Throat, white, but without the lateral processes
of the male. Fore part of the neck below, and sides,
light yellowish brown, mottled with grayish brown, as
are the sides under the wings. Breast and abdomen,
white, the former spotted with brown. Hind neck,
back, and rump dark brown, glossed with green and
purple. Wings as in male, but the speculum less, and

44 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

the secondaries externally faint reddish purple ; the
velvety black of the male diminished to a few narrow
markings. ‘Tail, dark brown, glossed with green.
Length 19, 1-2 inches.

CHAPTER IV.

BLUE-WINGED TEAL.
(Anas Discors.)

THE Blue-Winged Teal is among the swiftest and
sprightliest of the duck species. They afford delightful
sport to the hunter, for they are always with us at a time
when early fall commences to tinge forest and field with
its autumn colorings. They are gentle, confiding little
things, and live, travel and associate together in the great-
estharmony. They are great lovers of warm sunshine,
and can be seen sitting on the shore, on muskrat houses
and small elevations of almost any kind dozing and
basking in the sun. Active little fellows when feeding ;
they wade through shallow water, skimming bugs and
iarve from the surface, or hastily gulp down a ven-
turesome insect that indiscreetly gets near them. Un-
like the larger variety of ducks, they avoid open water
and content themselves huddling together on the soft

46 WILD FOWL SHOOTING,

muddy shore, or enjoying a constant holiday among the
pond-liles, flags, and wild rice.

They are easily decoyed, easily approached, and easily
killed. Shooting them over points they will come like
a flash, sometimes in immense droves, flying low and
with incredible swiftness, no sailing or circling around
for them, with heads pointed for some feeding spot they
come swift as thought, and quickly flirting their little
bodies first one side, then the other, drop right in among
the decoys, often within twenty feet of the hunter.
They appear to have perfect control of themselves when
flying, and will alight square into rice spots or water,
when going at their greatest speed, pitching down very
similarly to a snipe or woodcock. An idea of the great
speed with which they fly may be had from this apt
illustration, given by one who evidently has had large
experience with them :

“ Let a blue-winged teal get it into his head that he
is a little late to hit an appointment, or that ‘ he wants
to see a man’ a longish bit away, and a hundred miles
an hour is decidedly too slow to meet his notion. A
streak of lightning, well greased, is now hardly an ex-
aggerated simile, and after an astonished glimpse of a
dark spot swims above your head like an unlighted
meteor, you are ready to believe that if he were going
straight away from the muzzle of your gun, and the
shot following a half second later, it would be about an
even race with odds in favor of the bird, if anything.”

At such times, when they are going at a speed of
from one to two hundred miles an hour, there is no time
for dallying on aim but the shooter should hold as near
as possible (the bird being estimated at 35 to 40 yards)
10 to 15 feet ahead of it. Should the bird fly over his

BLUE-WINGED TEAL. 47

head, going directly away, better save his shell; still, if
he wants to experiment, he might try. Possibly the
bird will slack its speed and give the shot a chance to
catch up; this being an event of so much uncertainty,
he had better not risk it, unless supplied with plenty of
shells. Being engaged in feeding, they pay but little
attention to the hunter, and rush along gulping down
their food as if their lives depended on its being done
hastily.

It takes but a slight blow to kill them, and large num-
bers are frequently killed at the discharge of both bar-
rels. Feeding almost continuously, they are always in
excellent condition, tender, juicy, and all that one could
desire for the table. After one has been killed and
dressed for cooking should the discovery be made that
his ribs are not larded with at least a quarter of an inch
of fat, depend on it, he merited death, for he was dur-
ing life a sloth.

No. 7 or 8 shot is the proper size.

Anas Discors.—This species measures about 14 inches
in length, and 22 inches in extent. The bill is long in
proportion, and of a dusky slate; the front and upper
part of the head, black; from the eye to the chin isa
large crescent of white ; the rest of the head and half of
the neck are of a dark slate, richly glossed with green
and violet; remainder of the neck and breast black or
dusky, thickly marked with semi-circles of brownish
white, elegantly intersecting with each other; belly,
pale brown, barred with dusky narrow lines; sides
and vent the same tint spotted with oval marks of dusky ;

48 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

flanks elegantly waved with large semi-circles of pale
brown ; sides of the vent, pure white ; under tail coverts
black ; back, deep brown with black, each feather waved
with large semi-ovals of brownish white; lesser wing
coverts, a bright blue; primaries, dusky brown ; second-
aries, black ; speculum or beauty spot, rich green ; ter-
tials, edged with black or light blue and streaked down
their middle with white ; the tail, which is pointed, ex-
tends two inches beyond the wings ; legs and feet, yel-
low, the latter very small; the two crescents of white
before the eyes meet on the throat.

The female differs in having the head and neck of a
dull dusky slate, instead of the rich violet of the male ;
the hind of head is also whitish ; the wavings of the back
and lower parts more indistinct.

Wing nearly the same in both.

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 49

CHAPTER V.

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT.
(ON THE MISSISSIPPI. )

If thou would’st enjoy sport, such as thou hast never
Seen or dreaint of, then be my guest, if but for aday.

OnE of the most successful ways of shooting wild
fowl on the Mississippi River is from a scullboat. It is
rare sport, and enjoyed by comparatively few, espe-
cially when one takes into consideration the number who
hunt these birds, and the various means they employ to
hunt with any degree of success. It has always been
to me a matter of great surprise, that more sportsmen
have not hunted in this manner. Experienced duck
hunters—men who have passed their entire lives among
the aquatic tribe, who are versed in, and filled to com-
pletion with duck lore, who know their instincts, habits,
breeding places, and resorts, and who can almost read
them in mid-air, forming instantaneously a correct opin-
ion as to where they are flying and what may be their
intentions ; men who know how to hunt them morning,
midday and evening, spring ard fall; amid the willows,
among the tall oaks, hidden in the marsh securely from
view, by the tall waving and nodding wild rice, shooting
them from out-jutting points, under their line of light,
seductively coaxing them from their high flight, with
plaintive call and deceitful decoys, knocking them right

and left, as they circle over the yellow and golden fields
4

50 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

of corn, or killing them in mid winter, as they come
into the air-holes covered with decoys and tempting bait.
And still, these men with all their experience have
never hunted them from a sculling boat.

Duck hunting is no childish sport. When mild,
pleasant weather, gentle, soothing winds, gurgling,
murmuring brooks, sweet-smelling, delicate, fragrant
flowers invite us out for a day to the woods or beside
the streams, where in indolence we lie, half waking,
then lulled into a lazy slumber by the sighing winds, or
warbling thrush, or kept awake by the cawing crow, as
it flies over our heads in its accustomed straight line, or
the laughing jay, as it teeters on the tip of some tall
tree, industriously yelling at us because of our intrusion,
—such scenes as these we all recall. They are bright
spots, oases in the desert of our lives.

But the duck season, as the reader well knows, is not
at such a time, but entirely the opposite. It seems as
if at such times, the elements combine to disgust and
discourage the hunter. And yet, a person experiences
so many pleasant days while duck shooting, that it seems
as though the elements have been so impartial, that
we are not justified in complaining. It is but natural
then, having to hunt at a time of the year when we can
but expect cold and inclement weather, we should
lighten our burdens when possible, and accept the
advantage where offered.

And now I want you, my reader, to go with me for
but a day. A day isn’t long in your life of years. You
can readily recall not one, but many passed with
Nature. Grant me your time and presence but for a
brief day, and together we will go, and you shall see
much that will be new to you. Youshall see how ducks

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 51

are killed from a scull boat. You promise to go. Your
gun is a 10 ga., weighing 10 lbs. Leave all to me; you
are to be my guest for the occasion, and I propose to
treat you as a distinguished one, choosing to provide
all the necessaries for the trip, and promising you a
very pleasant one, should the weather be auspicious.
We will use the same shells, loaded 4 1-2 dms. powder,
well wadded, and 1 1-8 ozs. No. 6 shot; but I shall
put into our box plenty of No. 8’s,—for should the ducks
decoy well, the shells will come handy, in fact, just the
size ; while if they are wild, the 8’s will do nicely for
cripples. Bring your hip rubber boots with you; they
may be needed, not that I think they will be, as the
boat will be perfectly dry, plenty of hay in the bottom,
and loose fitting shoes, or felt boots will be warmer,
and much more comfortable. You can throw your long
boots under the bow, and should it so happen, as it fre-
quently does, that we run across some pond, overflow-
ed place, or bayou, where ducks are feeding, we will
want them to retrieve our birds.

Yes! I don’t doubt it; am willing to admit he is an
excellent retriever. Still, we don’t want your dog
along, for our shooting will be almost, if not entirely,
from the boat, and he would simply be in the way.
Better lose a few ducks, than,to have him wet and
muddy constantly climbing in on the dry hay, splashing
mud over ourselves and guns, and disarranging, or
perhaps completely knocking, our blind from off the
bow. I don’t doubt but it seems strange to you to
hunt ducks without a dog, but rest assured, it’s the
correct way in scull boat shooting, as your experience
will prove before our return. My sack of mallard
decoys we will throw on the bow when we start out.

5y% WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Don’t know as we will need them—may be not ; really
don’t think we will, but on the bow, in an old dirty
coffee-sask, they are not conspicuous; and if noticed
at all, have the grim appearance of the butt of an old
log, or decayed stump, and they serve in no small
degree as a blind. I would as soon think of going
on a trip from home without change of collars and
cuffs, as to think of going hunting in my scull boat
without decoys. They are to me as much a part of
my outfit, as my boots, coat, indeed, as anything, ex-
cept my gun.

Karly the next morning we start by train, going up the
Mississippi from Clinton, 18 or 20 miles. Through
the courtesy of the conductor, our boat and luggage is
carried in the baggage car, and we are put off the train
midway between stations, at the point requested. The
train moves swiftly along, and vou and I are on the
banks of the Mississippi, whose swift flowing current
runs so quietly at our feet.

The day is an ideal one. Had we power to have se-
lected it, our choice would have been just such a day.
Tis fall; and the frequent rains in the North have
overflowed the Black, the Wisconsin, the Chippewa,
and numerous small rivers all pouring vast floods into
the Father of Waters. The river has steadily risen.
Sandbars are covered; lowlands submerged. The
narrow channels have been filled, until, between the
marked shores, distinct by the aid of tall trees and
overhanging willows, the eye beholds one vast sea of
water. Notice the boat at our feet! no skiff, no float,
no punt, but the graceful elegance of her outline
attracts your admiration at once. If I have pride in her
appearance, it is a pardonable one, for she is new; only

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 53

a year old. And in her construction I tried to avoid
the faults and imperfections noticed in others, for years.
See how lightly and airily she sits on the water, rising
and falling by the motion of the slight waves. The
bow at first may not impress you favorably, your mind
will revert to your yachting, “ when the sharp prow
of your yacht clove the water like a knife.” Very true ;
and you may not like the sled-runner shape of the bow.
Wait until, gently propelled with the sculling oar, she
glides over floating sticks and other debris, then you
will see, instead of shoving it ahead in a surging, bub-
bling mass, she quietly slides over it without effort or
noise. Look at her sides; so smooth that not the
slightest ripple will be made as we pass along, and that
gentle sloping stern slips through the water, leaving
the smallest of wakes as she passes. The oars are
bound with leather where they touch the locks. As if
that were not enough to insure quietness, the locks
are covered with heavy leather; the sculling oar, where
it comes it contact with the boat is also covered.

We are in the boat. Sit on my shell box, it will
answer a double purpose; and this is oneofthem. You
will have but slight rowing. I shall do most of the
work to-day, and you most of the shooting. You are
an admirer of the beautiful, enjoy pretty scenery, and
Nature in her varied and changeable garb. You smile
incredulously, as if to ask me how I know it. If Iam
wrong, why do you gaze so intently over my head,
and back of me, at the deep, unbroken bluffs, whose
solid walls extend so high toward the heavens; or on
their heights, where immense oaks stretch out their
gigantic arms to the four points of the compass ; at
their neighbors, the strong hickory, whese variegated

54. WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

leaves tremble in the morning air, and at the dwarfish
evergreens that peep out from the deep caverns on
these huge bluffs, where the moss in green and gold
clings to the rough-faced rocks. Vultus est index
animi. (The face is the index of the mind.) This is
clearly shown in your looks—your bright eye, thought-
ful expression, and deep, meaning smile.

Put up your oars. We will land on this island, and
fix our boat. Weare at the head of * Dark Shute,”
looking to the south. “ Dark Shute” is at our right,
the main river at our left. Formerly “ Dark Shute”
was the channel proper, but of late years it is changed,
and is on the east side of the island. It derived its
name from the deep darkness which at night is reflect-
ed from the high bluffs you were admiring. Let me
fix the blind on the boat. All right! you may help me.
Bring those old, decayed chunks of wood. We will
trim the bow first. Short pieces. Now you see the
decoy sack comes handy, it helps fill out. Watch how
I put these sticks on. They must present the appear-
ance when completed of an old log, with up-turned
root, or floating brush pile,—something that ducks
daily see in running water. Scatter over the blind
slender twigs, putting some up straight, as if the stump
had sprouted. Not too high, or they will interfere
with your shooting. Now let us step back, and see
what kind of architects we are. Pretty good! But
those overhanging twigs won't do; they must be kept
out of the water, as they will make ripples, and you
know floating logs and brush never do. There, that’s
it! that will do. On the sides we will lay a few long
sticks. Put the oarsin the boat, there, at the side ; we
won't want them till night. It’s down stream work,

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 55

and the current will carry us, when I am tired of
sculling. .

There! now she’s all right. I never trim a boat for
sculling without thinking of my shooting companion
and old friend, Ben Woodward. He is the most par-
ticular man I ever saw; and the best sculler. After
trimming the boat he always made some excuse to walk
toward the woods. Usually, to get a little more plunder,
but really, to see how the blind would look from a
distance. He would examine it critically ; as carefully
as a woman does her hair before going into a reception
room; and then, if it suited him, it was a smart duck that
hecouldn’t scull. Get in the bow and turn your back to
me. Those little places along the side are made to put
shellsin. Fill them up. Have plenty handy. They
won't spoil if you have all those racks full; besides, I
am liable to call on you for some. She doesn’t loom up
much, does she? Only about three inches, not counting
the four inch combing that hides us. You thought
that a large place decked over on the bow? Apparent-
ly it is, about four feet; still it’s essential to make a
good blind.

We are now right in a splendid duck country. Par-
don the plainness of my speech, but it is absolutely
necessary not to talk, and you must keep your eyes
open and your mouth shut. Consider yourself at
liberty to speak when spoken to, but be assured you
will have plenty of time for reflection. Shove that
shell-box out of your way and sit on the bottom on the
hay. On ducks on the water give them the first barrel,
the other when they rise. Don’t wait for me, they
won't get away without hearing from me. This is a
likely spot for them in these young willows. Mark.

56 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

at your left, down about 80 yards. Didn’t you see
him ? I did, a drake swimming at the edge of the brush,
right at the foot of that old tree. I just caughta glimpse
of the white on his rump. Watch for him. There?
There! Good enough; he never winked after you
fired; he is as dead as a mackerel. Look out! Give
it to her! Well! Well! It took three shots to get her,
but better that than three misses. You undershot her
as she rose over the trees, and I missed her clean with
the first barrel. Pick up that drake as we pass. No!
No! not that way, not by the feet or wing; if you do,
the water will be carried into the boat. Always pick
them up by the bill, give them a couple of jerks upand
down; that will shake the water off. Here’s our duck,
pick her up. I noticed four light in the stream below
us. The stream is narrow and crooked, and we ought
to get at them. Keep down, and when I give you
a slight bash, rise quickly to a sitting position and let
them have it over the left quarter of the bow; they
will be there, for with a quick turn of the oar I will
turn the hoat so as to make it so. Try and getin your
first barrel very quick, for remember, there wiil be
three waiting to follow. Be careful, and shoot clear
of the blind. I have had companions in their excite-
ment bang away into the blind, and even in their haste
fire into the sack of decoys. There they are out in that
opening! See how contentedly they sit! Look at that
drake preen himself! We will get a shot sure, they are
not the least suspicious. Where would we be with a
common skiff? Simply left: they would have both seen
and heard us long ago. Hug close to the bottom of
the boat, untilI push you. That’s right! That’s right!
Hurrah! Got the whole four: at one time I thought

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. oT

they would fly without giving us a shot. One of the
ducks got uneasy and swam with her head a little too
high to please me. Only three? Most certainly there
were four! We downed them all. Aha! cute, isn’t
she? See how she sneaks off, body buried beneath the
water and just her bill and top of head exposed. Tl
give her a dose of those 8’s that will resurrect her. I
thought so! Get these first, then we will pick her up
as we pass down.

Those tall trees off to the east are on the border of
quite a lake, a great resort for blue-bills and red-heads.
We will work over that way, for I know that on the
high pin-oak ridges, where the water must be from 10
inches to two feet deep, we will find large numbers of
mallards—uniless other hunters have been there before
us, and they haven’t, or we would have heard them
shooting. Just beyond the trees and north of the lake
there is high grass and smart-weed, and growing there
in immense quantities is a red or brown berry that
floats on the surface of the water, and is skimmed off
by the ducks, as they glide around through the tangled
meshes, half swimming, half wading. Did I hear it?
Most certainly I did; not only that one, but many
others. It is their quacking off in the feeding ground
I spoke of. Down among those large trees we can see
them swimming now. No use trying to scull them.
They know that in the shallow dead water where they
are, nothing floats, nothing moves; besides, beneath
the surface of the water are hidden stumps and logs
that one’s boat would ground on, and we would be
seen. Better let these go. See how they are moving
in the air, coming from the South ; all kinds, mallards,
blue-bills, red-heads ; and there darting swiftly through

58 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

the trees, goes a flock of blue-winged teal. Look out;
right in front of you, a pair of mallards. Try and get
them both, draw on the drake, then the duck. Two
deep reports, and both are dead, almost at our feet.
What a sight! The loud report of the gun roars, echoes,
and reverberates, through the deep woods, and from
their depths spring up mallards in almost countless
numbers. We see them indistinctly through the timber ;
first, just off the water, the bright spots on their tails
conspicuous by its purple surroundings, then we catch
faint glimpses of them through the dense trees ; and
last, set out by the strong light of the clear sky, we be-
hold them rising above the tree tops. What a noise
they make ; soslightat first, at the start a faint ‘“« Whew,”
—then a loud flapping of strong wings, until all merges
into a deep roaring, like distant rolling thunder.

We scullaround the small peninsula, and go through
the long grass and scatter dead grass over the bow and
sides of the boat, that it may correspond with the sur-
roundings. The ducks return to feed ; we kill them,
singly, in pairs, make difficult and seemingly impossible
shots, then with both barrels, score clean misses at one
almost in our face. Thus the time passes quickly away.
The flight ceases. Our constant shooting has driven
themaway. The dead are picked up. A nice bunch they
are, fully twenty and all mallards. A pleased smile is
noticed on your face, as you seat yourself again in the
boat. Down the little bay we go; the light northwest
wind slightly stirs the smooth water, causing it to up-
heave many ripples. Out in the center of the bay a
small flock of blue-bills are unsuspectingly floating on
the water. When from the fringed and willowy shore
we emerge silently, noiselessly, they arise in dire alarm.

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 59

Too late! The leaden hail has cut them down merci-
lessly. They are on the water. One of the flock misses
its mate, forgets its cause of alarm, and quickly returns
with wings curved down. A quick report, a dull splash,
as the feathers idly drift with the wind, and he, too, is
dead. A single green-winged teal darts past us. We
hastily bring up our guns, laugh at each other, and
take them down. Our thoughts are identical. Each
feeling, that at the speed it was flying, the odds would
be in favor of the duck beating the shot in an even race.

On a high ridge we stop for dinner. We drag from
out the covered bow an old four-quart tin bucket,
dirty and smutty with the smoke of many fires. We
suspend it from one forked green stick hanging on two
others. The snapping fire soon fills the air with escap-
ing aroma, and we eat, drink, and are happy.

You chide me because I refuse your proffered cigar.
As you light its mate and liesurely throw yourself down,
on the soft leaf covered ground, tell me how you en-
joy it, and what a solace it is to you. My moustache
conceals a quiet smile that plays around my mouth, and
my thoughts revert to a place, where, at noon and even-
tide, on returning from my office, two little darlings
watch for me at the window, and when the door is
opened spring into my arms, twining their soft arms
tenderly around my neck; the eldest saying, between
resounding kisses, “ I love you, papa dear, and love to
kiss you, ‘cause you don’t ’moke!”’ while the sweet
blue eyes of the younger, look appealingly at me as she
exclaims, ‘* And My loves papa too!”

Thou art blessed with eyes of deepest blue,

Compared with which, the sky assumes a paler hue;
Thou art my angels, with thy flaxen hair,

My pets, my darlings waiting for me there.

60 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Hiding, peeping, behind the half open door,
Waiting to kiss me, once, twice or more,

Never forgetting at the hour of noon,
That thy father will return from his office soon,

Dropping dolls, and playthings, where’ere you be,
Hastening to the window, watching for me;
** Let’s run and meet him, you and I,
See who gets there soonest. Mamie or My.”

‘‘ Who gets there first, she shall have this,
The longest and the sweetest kiss;’’
The choicest blessings of Heaven, on thee I invoke,
And smile, at childhood’s reason for loving papa,
** Cause he doesn’t ’moke.”’

You have your solace? so have I.—I trust we all
have. We start again, and threadour way over the
over-flowed land. A splash startles us ! Looking for the
cause, we see a muskrat, more scared than we, swim-
ming away from us for dear life. The glimmer of light
through the trees tells us of a large body of water.
We start for it. The trees stand closely together.
With oars we could never get through them ; propelled
fromthe stern the boat rushes forward. You hold your
breath, expecting to see the blind knocked off the bow,
or brace yourself, anticipating a crash. You think it
hardly possible to go through the place headed for.
The bow is within a foot of the tree; you close your
teeth firmly together, shut your eyes involuntarily.
With a quick movement of the sculling oar, aided
by the sheht current, the boat glides quietly between the
two trees, not even grazing them, and you can hardy be-
lieve your senses, as you notice there wasn’t an inch to
spare on either side. We reach the opening. It is the
river. We rest for a few moments, drifting with the
current. Down at our right, nestled closely together,
wre many small islands, clinging to the Iowa shore, at the
mouth of Elk River. That small house at our left, on

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 6]

the snore of that quiet bay, is the home of Johnson, the
fisherman. Often, in passing the place in the dim
twilight, those huge reels on which you see the nets
are set out against the sky so dimly, that a very feeble
stretch of the imagination brings before me, a Don
Quixote and some Rozinante charging these wind-
mill looking reels ; and I can see him repulsed, by the
impetuosity of his charge, unhorsed, but not discour-
aged. This island just below us is the dividing point the
head of Illinois slough. The slough winds its narrow
length, serpentine like, and empties into the Mississippi
fully twelve miles below.

We will go down the river! The continuous bang-
ing we now hear will drive the ducks into the river, or on
the islands in the river, where the hunter with muzzle-
loader, zulu, and black hat won’t bother them. Certain-
ly! Inoticed them some time ago. They must be
holding some kind of a convention, there is such a
big raft of them right in the channel. Down they go!
Those were red-heads! Could tell by the way they
lit. No circling, no flying around ; they flew straight
and struck the water. The force of their flight sliding
them along like a boy on ice. Look at those pin-tails !
They drop as iffrom the clouds. Those mallards ; how
they circle, and then, when ready to light, flutter over
the place picked out as if in doubt. See the blue-bills
dart in with a swish! Pretty good! That flock of
blue-winged teal pass them by contemptuously, in
spite of the frequent calls. Dainty little fellows!
They are bound for some mud-bank or rice-bed. We
will hug this bank until the current brings them oppo-
site, or nearly so; then, holding the bow a little up
stream, will gradually work out and they will drift

62 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

down to us. We will take the lower end of the flock.
Tis true they are not so thick as above, or in the
middle, but it’s necessary to always keep the bow to-
ward them, and not expose the sides, or we would be
seen. Keep low! they are working this way! I won't
try to scull against this current, but will make her hold
her own. Sh—careful! They are about fifty yards
from us, and a single canvas-back among them. Leave
him for me. Confound it! A prying blue-bill has
swamaround us. He sees us; he has his neck stretched
up, and will alarm the whole flock. Rise quietly and
fire! Watch your cripples! Kall them at once or they
will get away. Six? I thought we had seven down ;
but then the flutterimg of the dying and the wounded
trying to escape might have made me miscount. Take
a good look now you have them together, and you will
notice the bill of a red-head is concave and blue ; while
that of the canvas-back is black and wedge shaped.
That narrow opening we see over on the Iowa shore,
is called “ Hole in the Wall,” an appropriate, if not ele-
gant name. The water there is very deep. It is the
steamboat channel. It gets its name from its pocket-
like appearance, cutting in from the wide river to the
abrupt bottom land behind it. The islands seem close
together, and they are; still, far enough apart to make
an excellent channel. We will go to the east and
through the tall timber. We will find ducks every-
where to-day. This place is new to you; not to me.
Those tall trees are old friends of mine. Eighteen
years ago, when a boy, I wandered beneath those huge
limbs. They look the same now as then; they don’t
seem to have grown a particle in size. Down their
strong bodies the furrowed lines are running, the same

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 63

as then; at that time, I used to stand, gazing up to
them in silent adoration, and wonder, it those lines
were lines of care, or the effects of wintry winds, or
old age? See! how the frost-tipped leaves tremble, as
the slight breeze causes the outward limbs to bend to
youand me. They are their silent sentinels welcom-
ing us to their quiethome. Do you suppose they know
me? They surely ought to; for they see me every
year, sometimes semi-annually, often weekly. That
old hickory ought to remember me ; for I once killed a
fox squirrel, in its highest crotch; and this great oak
tree too; for years ago, I shot on that gnarled limb,
straight from its body, a large white owl, as it sat, half
asleep, half awake, blinking in the mid-day sun. When
I get among these trees, my spirit prompts me tosay :
“Trees of the forest and open field,
Have you no sense of being? Does the air,
The pure air, which I breathe with gladness, pass
In gushes o’er your delicate lungs, your leaves
All unenjoyed ? When on your wintry sleep the sun
Shines warm, have ye no dreams of spring ?
And when the glorious springtime comes at last,

Have ye no joy of all your bursting buds,
And fragrant blooms, and melody of birds ?”

’Tis now the middle of the afternoon, and the short-
ening day warns us to move on. ‘The silent trees we
were admiring, fade from view, hidden by the low birch,
willows, and maple we are now passing through. We
are in the low lands; and seem at times, to brush
through the lower limbs of the trees as we glide along.
Ducks are now jumping up all round us. From be-
neath the branches of the birch and from behind the
maple, while the willow flashes appear to be full of
them. It is not difficult to kill them now, and we im-
prove the opportunity.

64 WILD FOWL SHOOTING

It is like going from darkness into day-light, when
we suddenly, and to you unexpectedly, come out of the
deep woods into the broad water of Rice Lake. ‘There
are hunters before us. We see their decoys, and
cheerily greeting them, leave the most noted resort of
the whole trip in the possession of strangers. Why
care we? just below us is Turkey Slough, where from
time immemorial, year in and year out, ducks have
been killed by the hundreds. The day is fast disap-
pearing. We place out our decoys in a likely place,
and kill the ducks in that manner. At times, a pair or
a single one alights just out of reach. Silently and
stealthily we emerge from our hiding place and the
floating brush pile is transformed into a fiery mass ;
and we gather the dead, and once more seek the pro-
tecting willows.

Thus the day slips along. Ducks come in at night

by thousands, the constant booming of guns does not |

drive them away. On the contrary, it seems to act as
a signal, pointing out to the stragglers where the major-
ity are. Satiated with decoy shooting, we scull along
the banks, the willows, in the shallow water, the sub-
merged ground, the grassy knolls where seeds are found,
the little patches of smart-weed ridges, where the
acorns are dropping into the water with a sullen
“ plunk,” and then, into the broad deep water,—secur-
ing game everywhere.

You feel tired? Indeed! Lay your gun listlessly
down, and declare you won't fire another shot! no
matter what comes along! You bring your hand to
your eyes, wishing for a moment to shut out the sight
of constant flying ducks, that will come before you.
“ Ah—unk! Ah—unk!” At this well-known sound,

— ~ ae

: ini

ni
el

‘IddISSISSIN NO LV¥YOS WINDS V WOYS SAYVTIVIN SNILOOHS

‘
}

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 65

your gun is grabbed quick as thought, you draw your-
self closely down in the bottom of the boat, and scarce-
ly breathe. It’s all right! He hasn’t seen you; but
comes slowly along, his great gray body, conspicuous in
the light of the setting sun. Steadily and regularly,
his wide wings work up and down. He’s over you!
Coolly and calmly you rise to a sitting position. You
draw aim on that black head, so plainly marked with a
broad band of white; fire !and witha last expiring“honk,”
a Canada goose lies dead before you. «A thrilling sense
of pleasure darts through you ; the tired feeling is gone.
You are filled with new vigor; for you feel that at the
last moment, at the opportune time, you have crowned
a perfect day’s sport with the most longed-for dessert.

The sun has gone down, the twilight is beginning to
appear in the East; the shooting has ceased, the sky is
brilliantly reflected in the west by the slow retreating
sun; then it grows dim, a gray film spreads all around
us. We start for home.

*¢ Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
Had in her sombre livery all things clad;
Silence accompanied, for beast and bird
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.”

The dark horizon is relieved of its blackness by the
still darker line of the island trees. Stars begin to
creep out from the distant sky, twinkling at you merri-
ly; then one shoots swiftly with flashing tail across the
bosom of the broad sky. The boat seems to almost fly
past receding banks and trees. We are now at the last
-island, called the “Tow Head,” just four miles from
home. Deep bluffs extend along both sides of the river,

separating Iowa and Illinois. Fire off your gun! Why?
5 :

66 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Do so, and listen. A flame shoots from the muzzle.
The noise startles you. Well it may, for it is like a
cannon between these bluffs. Loud thunder seems tame
compared with that report. And now, mark how it
bowls along the side of yon bluff, appearing to gather
renewed force as it travels ; echoing and re-echoing un-
til you feel that your gun has set the whole world in
commotion ; that a fierce storm is raging on the bluff
sides and in the ravines. You listen for the sighing of
the wind, the gentle patter of the rain falling on the
water, but the bright stars shining down on us dispel
the illusion. Wonderful, isn’t it? Yes, itis. I have heard
this same effect scores and scores of times, and I never
pass these bluffs at night without setting them off, loving
to hear their angry, growling mutterings. On your right
the city of Lyons is drowsily nestling amid her hills and
valleys, brilliant in her electric light, the tall chimneys
of the mills reaching toward the skies. Those deep red
lights are on her piers and rafts, warnings of danger to
the mariner. The green and red hang from the extreme
heights of a steamer, snugly lying at her dock. The
blinking lights just opposite are at Fulton, a pictur-
esque little town at the foot of rolling hills, where, in
day, or moonlight nights, milk white monuments show
up clearly in her cemetery on the hillside, thoughtful
remembrances of the departed dead.

One more mile and weare home. Our game I count-
ed, just after you killed the goose,—65 mallards, 5 red-
heads, 6 blue-bills, one canvas-back, and one goose,—a
splendid lot, but not unusual.

We are now in one of the widest places in the upper
Mississippi River. A perfect sea of water encompasses
us on every side, and yet it is not deep here. Push

ee

————

SHOOTING MALLARDS FROM A SCULL BOAT. 67

down your oar, and as we go along you will feel a grat-
ing sensation, as the blade moves over the bottom,
which you can easily touch. We are floating over the
crest of a hidden sand-bar, whose great flat surface lies
dull and motionless exposed to view when the water
recedes a little. At the west, grimly standing in re-
lief as against the horizon, immense trees are dimly seen.
They are the remnants of a thick forest that stood here
before time and civilization robbed them of their silent
companions. And then to the south of us, see, whata
beautiful sight ! a steamer coming through the draw of
the bridge, flashing her electric light until the very heav-
ens are illuminated by its strong rays. It darts on the
river, and the rippling water seems as silver in the
brightness of its rays ; while on the outer edges of the
reflected light it grows duller and duller, until from a
leaden hue it turns into inky blackness. The island
stands out in the brilliant light, more conspicuous than
in the glare of the sun as the quivering light flares on
the dense trees, turning their leaves to a darker green.
The flitting, fleeting objects waver and tremble on the
sleeping earth, bringing into prominence some old
blighted stump, standing grimly, like a patrol on duty ;
and we can imagine that at any moment some Mephis-
topheles, with satanic grin, will peer from behind it,
waiting and watching for some pliant Faust, or gloating
over the miseries of some penitent and weeping Mar-
guerite.
The leaves, in fantastic shadows on the surface glimmer,
Flitting brightly, tremoring lightly, by the night wind gently blown,

While over the water the brilliant light shimmers;
Each moment something wierd, some grand sight is shown.

At the levee our man waits for us, helps us with the

65 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

game, our boat, and our hunting outfit. We leave all
but the guns here till morning, too tired to be encum-
bered with anything but them. Our weary limbs are
dragged homeward. The blinds are opened; a light
shines brightly at the window. It signifies nothing to
the casual passer-by, but to us it is a telegram, notify-
ing us that a warm supper and loving hearts are anxious-
ly awaiting our return. Our step on the walk is soft
and low, but not soft enough nor low enough to deceive
him who waits the coming of his master. A joyous
bark announces our arrival, and we feel—

“*>Tis sweet to hear the watch dog’s honest bark,
Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home.”’

CORN-FIELD MALLARD SHOOTING. 69

CHAPTER VI.
CORN-FIELD MALLARD SHOOTING.

WHEN wintry winds have commenced their dreary
and disconsolate shrieking, and prairie ponds are
frozen over, mallards take to rivers and running water,
gathering together in immense flocks at these open
places. At such times as these, pin-oak ridges extend
far above the open water; streams are low ; seeds have
drifted from their accustomed places, driven by fall
_winds; wild rice seeds are buried beneath the water’s
surface, now a thick coating of ice ; and then tall brown
and yellow stalks bend and nod as they bow before the
piercing wind. At such times, mallards congregate to-
gether in open water and hold vast conventions, dis-
cussing, apparently, the question whether or not they
had better depart south on their semi-annual migrations ;
but unanimous in one thing, that is, that they must
live. Early at break of day, when the dim gray light
first appears in the east, just when the crimson light
is seen, the reflection of old Sol, who soon peeps
his round red face above the surface of the earth, the
hunter stands shivering in a western corn-field, with
his back turned to the cold northwest wind, waiting
impatiently for the morning flight. How bitterly cold
it is on this vast prairie of upturned sod, faded grass
and great corn-fields. He pulls his collar higher up,
tries to draw his head farther down into its protecting

70 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

shelter and shivers all the more. What a dismal morn-
ing it is, just as the day is breaking. The flurrying
snow whirls and darts and bounds over the frozen
ground; the leaden gray in the east grows gradually
darker, as the eye follows it westward, until it dissolves
into a seal brown, and finally into an indistinct black.
As the hunter ponders over the situation, he thinks
how hard it would be for one to endure such exposure,
if necessity compelled it,—but then he instantly shakes
himself together, whacks his freezing hands against his
benumbed limbs, stamps his cold feet on the frozen
ground, and thinks how pleasant the anticipation is,
when one is sitting before a grate fire, to hunt ducks
on a wintry morning in a corn-field; how unpleasant
it is to experience the reality.

In coming into a corn-field the ducks are very wild,
and the utmost caution must be exercised to get good
shooting. The hunter should not secrete himself behind
a fence ; because of all places, a fence fills them with the
most dread, and they may fly low before approaching
it; but when they get to it, will ascend to a height when
it is simply nonsense to shoot at them. The hunter should
build a blind right in the place where he knows they
have been accustomed to light. That blind must be
built of corn-stalks, and to disturb as little as possible
the shape, formation and condition of the field before
the blind was built. Ducks have very sharp eyes, and
are great observers of the condition of a field where they
have been accustomed to feed. It will not do for the
hunter, merely because he is ina field of corn, to gather
up an armful and build ashock to hide himself. If
there are shocks in the field, this does away with the
necessity of it. Jet him conceal himself in one. If

ee

a sharos

CORN-FIELD MALLARD SHOOTING. wal

there are no shocks, throw an old rubber blanket on
the ground, dress in yellow canvas or corduroy ; lie
down flat, sprinkle stalks slightly over the limbs and
body, and rise, shooting from a sitting position when
firmg. Avoid, under all circumstances, building a
high, conspicuous blind, for you are dealing with birds
ever on the alert and always suspicious. Should the
ground be covered with snow, your dress should be
white. Suits worn by plasterers are the best on such
occasions. Decoys may be used with great success,
but don’t call to circling ducks. They do not want to
be called into the corn-field, for while feeding, they do
not call to one another. Depend more on your decoys,
and when you think flying ducks will hear the sound,
glue the end of your tongue to the roof of your mouth,
and click to them. This is the noise they make in
feeding. ‘The best blinds are pits dug into the ground
as described in ‘ Canada goose shooting.” Dead ducks
should be set up as decoys, as fast as killed, until one
has quite a flock. Ifyou have no dog, start for a erip-
pled duck before it strikes the ground. It is almost im-
possible to find them ina corn-field when crippled.
Everything looks alike. Nos. 4 and 5 are the best sizes
of shot to use. The birds will usually be killed at
long range, and good-sized shot and plenty of strong
powder are necessary. Always have at hand some
shells loaded for geese. This is also their feeding place
and the time of year for them, and it will be no occa-
sion for surprise if you pick up two or three any time.

SHOOTING MALLAKDS IN A SNOW STORM. 7%

CHAPTER VII.
SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM.

THE very best shooting may be had at times, during
the heaviest snow storms. The ducks seek hidden,
sheltered, cosy retreats, protected from the violence of
the storm, and dislike to leave their feeding grounds.
At such times, they leave the corn-fields, large ponds,
rivers, and all unsheltered places, and hie themselves
to the heaviest timbered woods, where under the pro-
tecting shelter of the large trees, drooping willows, or
in quiet, smooth bayous, they sit all day long, feeding
on buds, acorns, smart-weed, larvee and the roots of
grass ; or, preening themselves, will sit around in 1n-
dolent leisure.

On such a day, when the wind is driving the drifting,
blinding snow into one’s face, or the melted snow is
trickling down his neck, as the young hunter walks be-
fore the blinding storm, he should avoid the prairies,
the open sloughs, and look for some quiet, sheltered
spot, and there he will surely find the birds. The drifting
snow, the howling wind, as it plays through the leafless
branches, breed in the ducks a spirit of uneasiness, and
they fly singly, in pairs, or in flocks over the tall trees
as they come in from the open places. The strong
wind impedes their flight, the snow blinds them. Along
they come, facing the storm, flying slowly over the tree-

74 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

tops, looking fora cozy retreat occupied by their kind ;
or suddenly caught by the stormy wind, veer to one
side, carried quite a distance before being able to re-
cover themselves, when again they advance as before.
The shrieking wind, the blinding snow, the wild day,
will cause many a beginner to hesitate about going
out at such atime. But ifit causes him to hesitate
it also removes suspicion on the part of the ducks,
as if they thought that on such a day they would
be unmolested. The young duck-hunter must be
brave, willing to endure cold and exposure, re-
membering that although the wind may blow, the
snow drift, and the air filled with the falling flakes,
in the deep woods it comes down gently through
the tall trees, and there all is quiet, and the for-
est is a solitude indeed. He should dress warm.
It seems impossible on a day like this for one to
be too warmly dressed. Discard style, let your only
desire be comfort. Wear a hat, its broad brim will
protect your ears, your face, and neck, and it will keep
the snow from coursing down your body in tiny but
unpleasant rivulets. Put on plenty of flannels. Your
shirt should have a large collar, and around your neck
wear a warm soft woolen scarf. Wear woolen gloves, as
any other kind soon become wet and useless ; if of wool
they can be wrung out, and unless the day is very cold,
which it won’t be if snowing, they are not uncomfort-
able if a little wet. At such times I prefer shooting
bare-handed. Wear clothes of some neutral color, as
near the color of the forest as you can, not too dark,
dark objects are always conspicuous, a lead or “ pepper
and salt” is about the thing. Don’t be afraid if a little
snow covers your hat. White is the prevailing color

SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM, T5

around younow. Have plenty of shells in your pockets.
Never think of hunting ducks in a snow storm, or, in
fact at any time, without using water-proof shells. In
and you won’t as a beginner

spite of your cautiousness
be overly supplied with it,—snow will get into your
shell pockets and melt ; your coat will be wet, your
shells wet. It is utterly impossible to keep things dry
at such a time. Many and many’s the time I have
plunged my hand into my shell pocket and found shells
dripping wet, covered with seeds, dust and crumbs.
Being water-proof, they worked all right, after wiping
them hastily on my coat. Were they other than water-
proof I could not have used them, and a whole day’s
sport would have been spoiled. Be vigilant and on
the alert, constantly turning your head, that the duck
may not approach you from any direction unseen. Un-
less you are thus always on the watch, some lone duck
will quietly fly over your head unperceived, while you
are carelessly fingering your gun, or idly staring at
your feet. You suddenly come to yourself, and hastily
bring the gun to your shoulder, but too late, for as he
gracefully rises over the trees, you perceive he is just
out of range. Disgusted at what you choose to call
your ill luck, you mentally resolve it shall not occur
again, neither does it within the next half hour, but it
does again later in the day, possibly several times.
You relax you vigilance as the flight decreases, and
with thoughts in dreamland, at least far away, your
carelessness loses you many good chances for a
shot.

Decoys should be used in this kind of shooting, placed
out in such a manner as to attract the attention of the
passing birds. Wooden ones, very natural and lifelike,

76 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

can be got through any gun dealer. They answer the
purpose exceedingly well, and I use them, although
should you not have any, set up your dead ducks as
fast as killed, until you have quite a flock. This you
can do by sharpening a small stick at each end, stick
one end in the mud, the other thrust into the duck’s
head just behind the base of the bill, under the chin.
Exercise judgment in setting your decoys, but remem-
ber, they must assume a natural, easy position, as if in
life. Don’t point their bills toward the heavens, as if
the ducks were trying to discover when the storm
would cease. On the other hand, don’t turn their bills
toward the water, with neck outstretched, making the
duck look as if it had eaten something that didn’t agree
with it; but having adjusted the head and neck properly,
see that the body is all right, draw the wings close to
it, smooth the feathers nicely, then step back and look
at it. If it looks to you precisely as a live duck does
on the water, all well and good ; if not, experiment
with it untilit does. It’s these little attentions to things
that to the beginner may seem time thrown away, that
go far toward increasing the duck-shooter’s bag during
a day’s shoot. As good shooting as I ever had has been
during the progress of hard snow storms, and I know
no better way to show the young duck-shooter how to
hunt during a snow storm than to give him a descrip-
tion of one I had with an amateur as my companion 3;
and, in order to make it more plain, I will adopt in
part a conversational style, basing the account entirely
on facts as they actually occurred, the hunt being the
second duck shoot my companion ever participated in.
He could look both with pride and pleasure on his
business career, but his hunting education had been

SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM Tete

sadly neglected, necessarily so, on account of want of
opportunity

I had promised to take him out after ducks, and took
pleasure in living up to that promise. To be sure, he
was inexperienced, and knew little or nothing of what
was expected of him. But his want of knowledge was
more than overbalanced by his eagerness and willing-
ness to do his share of hard work, and to make the best
of a very disagreeable and nasty day. Promptly on
time, 6.50 A. M., we met by appointment at the depot,
destined for the river, thirty miles away. <A change of
clothing had made a complete change in the appearance
of my friend. On this occasion I was his Gallo: fais
least, supplied him with ready-made clothing, pants,
hat and coat of heavy ducking, dirty and begrimed
with the natural consequences of many hunts. How
different he looked from the day before ;—then a gen-
teel person in business suit,—now the very picture of
indifference and neglect, as if he could whack a bull
or drive the foraging cattle from the corn-field at a
moment’s notice. Underneath his arm he held, seem-
ingly a box; from its size, I thought it contained bed-
clothing, but since we intended returning the same
night, I asked him what it was. With a broad open
smile, his lips parted, he simply replied, “ grub.”

“Grub?” said I in astonishment.

“Yes,” said he, “grub. I thought we might get
hunery, and had a lunch put up.”

“Well,” said I, “no danger of us starving to-day
with that amount of eatables with us.”

“Didn’t intend we should,” replied he, as he tried
to scratch a hole through his borrowed pants, event-
ually lighting a match.

78 WILD FOWL SILOOTING.

The morning was clear and beautiful, the sun shone
brightly, not a cloud broke the even smoothness of the
horizon. “Harry,” said I, “we are going to have a
fine day. Little cool now, but the sun will soon warm
things up.”

“Don’t know about that,” replied he, “the barom-
eter indicates a storm.”

All this time the freight thundered along. We had
gone perhaps ten miles, when a huge, dark cloud sud-
denly lifted itself over the western hills. Steadily it
came along with incredible swiftness, covering like a
blanket the clear sky. The wind began to whistle
against the caboose, flakes of snow hurriedly scattered
through the air, as if frightened at their temerity, and
then fell, bowling over the frozen ground. The cold
screeching of the wind, as it blew through the telegraph
wires, made the chills run down my back. I looked
inquiringly at Harry, asif to say, “ What do you think ?
Going to be a tough day, isn’t it?” He evidently con-
strued my thoughts correctly, and gave mea knowing
wink, that I didn’t know how to interpret.

We soon arrived at the station. I cast a long dubious
look at the leaden sky, and turning to Harry, said,
“the day is going to be wet, nasty, and very disagree-
able. Weare not out of meat at home, and are not
obliged to hunt. What do you say, shall we go on, re-
main out all day, get wet through and through, take
our chances on finding good hunting, or declare dis-
cretion the better part of valor, and return on the next
train?”

Candidly, I thought he would say, “ let’s go home.”
Imagine my surprise, when he turned toward me, grim
determination depicted on his face, and said, “ Entreat

—P

SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM. 79

me not to leave thee, or to turn from following after
thee, for whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou
lodgest, I will lodge.”

I thought at the time the language was sublimely
beautiful, and gave him credit for it. I knew the ex-
pression was not original with him, but that he bor-
rowed it; that it was the language of Ruth to her
mother-in-law, when Naomi entreated Ruth to return
to her people. I could not help but admire the apt
illustration he made, in showing the actual state of his
feelings. I felt at the time that the quotation was
made by him with the intention of passing it: off on me
as original, he not considering the possibility of my be-
ing posted in Biblical lore. It was an uncharitable act
on his part, but later years gave me an opportunity to
retaliate, which I did and no questions asked.

With the assistance of a couple of the inhabitants,
who are always to be seen at every small station on the
arrival of a train, we soon had boat and traps out of the
ear, placed on a wagon, and were bound for the river,
the deep forest line of which we’could indistinctly see
through the driving snow. We were both warmly
dressed, and feared neither cold nor storm. It was a
short trip to the river, and we were soon ready to start
out. Our boat was one such as is fully described in
another part of this volume. Decked over at bow and
sides, sitting close to the water, her smooth sides and
rounded bow easily slipping through the water, while
her stern glided along, scarcely making a ripple. We
placed our eighteen mallard decoys on the bow, it being
a handy place to carry them. Besides, in the old dirty
coffee sack, they made a very necessary blind for us.
Harry seated himself at the oars, while I, with sculling

80 WILD FOWL SIIOOTING.

oar, guided the boat in open channel, or amid thick and
overhanging branches and bended trees, was forcing her
swiftly along. The water was high, and boomed merrily
along through the overflowed lands and between the
fallen trees. Occasionally, through the trees at a dis-
tance, in small open places, we could see little flocks of
blue-bills, swimming carelessly on the placid water ;
then again, on the narrow necks of land that had es-
eaped the overflow, pin-tails would sit on the alert,
with their tall necks stretched up, making a marked
contrast to the pairs of mallards we could at times see
as they drifted along the brush and willows lazily pick-
ing off the buds; or, gracefully tipping up their plump
bodies, while searching for the appetizing acorn. Now
and then the faint report of a gun would reach our
ears, frequently two reports in quick succession, show-
ing that some hunter having braved the storm was
reaping the benefit his pluck had eared.

We were now about three-quarters of a mile in the
woods, and in the blinding snow could see the almost
constant flight of birds, some coming against the strong
wind, scarcely able to buffet it, while others, just out
of gun-shot, were allowing themselves to be driven be-
fore the wind at the rate of sixty miles an hour. I had
called Harry’s attention to these, and incited by the
frequent jumping up of mallards all around us, he was
getting the duck-fever pretty bad. We landed on
a ridge not more than thirty feet wide, and then
we consulted and made our observations. Harry
thought we ought to stop here. In his inexperienced
mind he could see but one thing,—ducks. He did not
stop to think that it was one thing to shoot, another to
retrieve them, for on each side of us was deep running

SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM. 81

water, that would cause a duck to float for fifty yards
before we could possibly retrieve it, and compel us to
return against the swift current. Besides, the deep
thickness of the branches overhead would scatter the
charge of shot, making it almost impossible to shoot
with effect.

To the north of us I saw ducks flying low, as if seek-
ing a spot to feed; then saw them drop through the
trees and disappear from sight, not returning. I knew
that we had found their retreat, and that where they
lit we would find shallow water, possibly a little land.
We found it as I expected. Selecting an open place,
as open as we could among the thick trees, we put our
decoys out, and located ourselves so that the ducks
when killed would fall above and be carried toward
us by the current. We stood in water a foot deep.
Nosooner in the blind than five mallards bowed their
wings above the decoys. A long shot, but I succeeded
in making a double. Harry did not shoot, “afraid he
would spoil my shot,” said he. I then said to him,
“Shells are plenty, and ducks also. You will never
learn to shoot unless you try. Stay close to me and
bang away at every bird that gets near you.” “ An-
other thing, Harry,” said I, “hold well ahead of every
bird you shoot at. I know it’s hard to do so, for the
inclination is strong, indeed, hardly to be resisted on
the part of a beginner, to shoot right at the duck. It
looks so large and is such a nice object to fire at. Then
again, he just can’t shoot at the air—he will aim at the
duck, then feeling he should obey, draws ahead. He
is pointing at thin air, a foot or two ahead. Behind
this thin air he sees a beautiful green head, glossy
feathers, perhaps a bright ene eye, the thought

82 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

flashes through his brain, “ What! shall I shoot at
nothing, when behind it is a duck that I can surely
kill? Fie on such advice! Iam after ducks, not air,
and this one is mine.” He changes his aim, blazes
away right at the duck, expecting of course to kill it,—
misses it; the duck moves on, while the hunter, notic-
ing a stray feather that a scattered shot had separated
from the duck, calls his companion’s attention to it,
and says, “I hit him hard, look at the feathers fly.”

This is the experience of every beginner.

“You have tired at least twenty times, and your ducks
are still to be had. You haven’t killed one, look in the
boat; there are at least a dozen that I have killed. 1
thought I would let you make several misses, before
your attention was called to the reason. You have the
reason now, you are going to kill some birds, and if
you will only follow my advice, you certainly cannot
fail.”

Just then a duck came towards us quacking loudly,
entirely disarmed from suspicion. ‘ Keep low,” said I,
“ Remember what I said. Hold a foot ahead of her
and she is yours. Kill her! I won't shoot.”

The duck was a little to one side of us, and about 25
yards high. Harry fired and made a clean miss.

“Look here,” said I, * You din’dt hold ahead of that
duck. If you had you would have killed it. Here I
have been giving you the benefit of my twenty years
experience, and all it cost you was to try it. You prom-
ised you would, and forgot it within two minutes
after I got through talking.”

T don’t know but that I spoke petulantly, perhaps too
much so; anyway it had its effect on Harry, for he
turned to me with face flushed, and said, “ Was that

SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM. 88

your duck? Have you lost a duck? Ain’t there any
other ducks here that you can get, without kicking
because that one got away? What in thunder is the
use of making a fuss about one poor lonesome old maid
of a duck, any way?”

“It wasn’t the duck, Harry,” said I, “ but it was your
shooting at zt, instead of ahead, as I told you to do.
Now, frankly ; didn’t youshoot right at it ?

“ Well,” said he, and he assumed the most confiden-
tial manner, *“ I cannot tell a lie. I did shoot at the
duck, with my little gun.”

The reader will probably imagine at this time that I
embraced and forgave him, and told him I would rather
he would miss a hundred ducks than tell a he. Nothing
of the kind; I simply told him to stand still, and not
be splashing water over me.

“ Will!” said he, “I am not much of a wing shot, but
the probabilities are that I will hit a crow before long.”

How he expected to hit a crow was a mystery to me,
as I Hadn’t seen one all day, and told himso. He mere-
ly smiled. The flight had decreased, and we were only
getting an occasional shot. My sight was directed
toward the north, watching a lone duck as it flew
around undecided where to light. A slight sound at-
tracted my attention, a gentle gurgling noise, like riv-
ulets of water running over unbroken pebbles. It
seemed to stop, then could be heard again with increas-
ed volume. The sound was not an unfamiliar one to
me. I turned my head, and there stood Harry, with face
upturned to the falling snow, pointing the base of a bot-
tle almost perpendicularly, the neck partially in his
mouth, while a peculiar suction caused the amber fluid
to spurt down his willing throat. His left eye closed,

84 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

as if sighting the disappearing “crow,” his right hand
firmly clasped the bottle, while with his left he com-
placently rubbed his stomach.

“‘ And this,” said I, ‘‘is the crow you were so sure of
hitting ?”

“ Yes,” said he, “ This is the crow referred to. Look
at it.”

I did so, and saw by the picture that it was an old
crow, seven years old. I told him that from its looks
he had hit it hard.

The ducks were uneasy, and while they would notice
the decoys, they didn’t show any great inclination to
light among. or near them. The wind blew strong, and
I found it necessary to shoot from one to three feet
ahead of them.

Harry did but little shooting, preferring to see me
kill the birds. Once more I brought him to the scratch,
and felt satisfied, that since he had been so successful
in hitting that ‘ crow” that his success there would em-
bolden him, and fill him with renewed courage, and so
it did.

The ducks were now flying pretty freely, and I de-
termined the first good shot he should not only shoot,
but kill. We didn’t have to wait long. A lone drake
came flying slowly over the trees, facing the wind. He
was in no hurry, only seeking the right place to alight.
He veered a little to the right before reaching us ; now
was a little to ourside. No allowance was necessary to
be made for his flight, but it was for the strong wind.

Harry was covering the bird.

“Swing your gun, first on his body, then his head,
then a foot ahead of him as near as you can,” said [,
“keep your gun slowly moving and pull.”

—/~

SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM. 85

I stood behind him. It seemed as if I could see the
gun follow my suggestions. The loud report rung
through the woods, and the drake fell with a splash,
dead in the water. Harry turned to me excited and
delighted, throwing his wet arm around my neck, and
tenderly said :

“William! thou hast taught me to kill the flying
duck, and I thank thee for it! Many a time and oft
have I tried in vain to do this thing, but have failed.
Thy experience and thy. skill hath disclosed to me the
secret of thy success,—and I am indebted to thee for
it.”

Imagine the scene, dear reader—there in the soli-
tude of the forest. I felt that the necessities of the oc-
casion demanded a reply on my part, but appropriate
language failed me—he was embracing me tenderly. I
came near telling him not to lean quite so heavily
against me, but thought that entirely out of place, con-
sidering his eloquent speech. Gulping down a piece
of apple, nearly choking myself, it brought tears to my
eyes. Harry, not knowing the cause of the tears,
thought they were the result of his eloquence. I had
by this time regained my self-possession and said :

“Tf thy heart hath taught thee that thou art indebt-
ed to me, thy debt is cancelled. Did not thy friends
trust thee to go to the deep woods with me, and should
not I disclose to thee the secrets of mine experience ?
Follow but my advice. Thou may’st not hit the “ crow ”
so often, but the swift flying duck will be at thy
mercy.”

“Will!” said he. “What?” said I. ‘ Thou hast
placed me under lasting obligation to thee for this day’s
sport. When the heat of the summer’s sun hath caused

86 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

the milk in thy refrigerator to sour, and thy negligent
hen hath forgotten her daily task, remember, that I am
thy neighbor, and that my Jersey cow and Brahma hens
still live.” —

This was too much for me, and with the apple still
lodged in my throat, I gasped, “ Let’s eat our lunch.”

Witnessed by the tall trees, our mouths filled with
ham sandwiches, his wet arms clinging around my
neck, we swore eternal friendship, Harry and I.

After lunch, Harry profiting by his successful shot,
made several beautiful ones. He followed the sug-
gestions made, and as a result was rewarded by seeing
his birds killed clean and dead. We both shot ten-bore
guns, full choked,—mine a nine and three-fourths, his a
ten lb. Our shells were loaded with four and one-half
dims. powder, a card, a thick felt, then another card on
powder; one and one eighth oz. No. 6 chilled shot, with
a card wad on top, the shells being firmly crimped.
This makes a very killing load, and with it we had no
difficulty in reaching the duck forty and at times fifty
yards. We stayed until about 4:30 in the afternoon,
and killed a nice bunch of ducks. Of course lost some,
but not many. Harry did the wading, but when the
birds dropped in deep water I sculled to them, and
picked them up.

We arrived at the station at dark. There were two
hunters there. They had been out all day, had the
same opportunities we did, but did not know how to
hunt; and as they said to me that night, “the con-
founded ducks always flew just where we were not.”
They showed three, the result of their day’s work, while
we exhibited to them just sixty-six,—all mallards.

On the train home, they related their experience and

SHOOTING MALLARDS IN A SNOW STORM. 87

wondered why they did not get more, when we did so
well. It was amusing to me, although I could have
told them what programme they followed throughout
the entire day,—any old hunter could. It is a pro-
gramme that most young hunters faithfully carry out.
It begins ; the firs¢ number is talk, generally a duet,
simply because two are present. Were there more
than two it would be a—well, it would depend on the
number of voices, as all present would join in. The
second number is usually a recitation, in which one of
the party descants on the wonderful things he has seen,
and the great shooting qualities of his gun. To make
it still more interesting, he allows the oars to slip
against the locks emitting sounds that can be heard for
«mile through the still woods. The balance of the
programme isn’t much different, although the finale is
grand. This usually takes place, when they attempt
cautiously to land the boat, that they may make a sneak
on ducks they have seen light. The rower attempts to get
out quietly, and lets his oars fall clattering into the
boat. He goes to pick them up, the boat tips a little ;
to save himself he accidentally steps on his dog. The
dog yelps, running the chromatic scale as far as high
“C,” while he in the stern tries to keep the boat from
upsetting, swears at his partner for his clumsiness, and
both kick at the innocent dog. The dog slips from un-
der the descending foot, the kicker by the force of his
kick loses his balance, and falls headfirst into the cold
water, or seats himself in the soft mud, while the dog
sits on his tail on the bank, and joyfully barks.

CHAPTER VIII.

SNIPE SHOOTING. WILSON’S SNIPE—JACK SNIPE.
(Scolopax Wilsonii.)

When Spring time comes, in the month of May,

And warm rain, and southern winds have driven the frost away,
With faithful setter, we hie us to the swamps,

To find Jack Snipe, in his favorite haunts.

Twisting and turning, against the wind he flies,
““Scaipe !”’ ‘“‘Scaipe!’’ he calls, with grating cries.
Then steadies himself, and darts ahead.

A quick report, and the bird falls dead.

WILson’s SNIPE, generally known as the “ Jack-
snipe,’ is a bird familiar to every one who ever hunted
over western waters, in the valleys of the Mississippi
or Missouri. He is as regular in his arrival as the sea-
sons; spring and fall he makes his appearance with
never failing accuracy. To those who are versed in the

90 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

secrets of his habits, and who have hunted him success-
fully, the bird does not fly that causes the hunter’s
heart to bound with delight and sends the warm blood
rushing through his veins, as does this erratic bird.
He comes and goes at such times as pleases his own
wandering fancy. ‘To-day, one may visit the well-
known places of his resort, confident in finding him and
his kind in large numbers. The most inviting places
are thoroughly searched. ‘The keen nose propelled by
the tireless lope of the faithful setter or pointer fails to
search him out. Swamps are traversed; meadows
tramped over; marshes through which the springs
gently flow, are gone through; slimy beds of peat and
muck are visited, and still he cannot be found. ‘This,
at a time when past successes would warrant one in
feeling confident that the bird would be found in all
the places. that have been so faithfully searched. The
skilled shooter does not despair because of his ill-luck,
but bides his time; for experience has taught him that
on the very next day, perhaps, the very places where
he did not see a feather, will be full of birds dispersed
throughout the marsh, singly, in pairs, and scattered in
bunches or wisps, from twenty to fifty feet apart. They
are found in abundance in IJlinois and Iowa in all the
low-lands—black and loamy soil being their place of
feeding. ‘They come and go, as a general thing, in the
night. This is shown by places which have been
thoroughly hunted over one day, and nothing seen, on
being visited the succeeding day, are found to be, one
might say, alive with them. The time of their arrival
is both spring and fall. I have always found them
more abundant in the spring. ‘They come the latter
part of April, early in May, sometimes late in that

SNIPE SHOOTING. Q{

month, and then remain for from ten to thirty days, de-
pending altogether on the weather. Living as’ they do
on worms and insects taken from the soft soil, the time
of their coming is at the period of the disappearance of
the frost. They come in the wake of a few warm days
of bright sunshine, days that fill the soul with secret
longing; days that bring to their northern homes the
blue-birds and the robins—birds of good omen—sure in-
dications of the arrival of spring. Following these few
bright days comes a warm, gentle rain, falling so quiet-
ly it seems to penetrate deep into the frost-ridden
ground. The snipe know of this rain, instinct possibly ;
any way they know it. And, while we are aware of
the fact that they will soon be among us, “ All through
the night, with tireless flight ” they come—in the morn-
ing they are here. On such a morning, when the sun-
shine and rain have driven the frost and coldness from
the marshes, let us take a trip with an amateur snipe-
hunter. Meeting one on the street, a friend of mine,
one whom I know to be a fair shot at prairie chickens,
and the possessor of a good setter, I accost him, as fol-
lows:

“ Well, Ned, old boy, how are you? Just the one
I want tosee. We have had several bright, warm days,
and now agentle, warm rain; the marshes are sure to
be full of jack-snipe to-morrow. What do you say, to
going out and having some fun with them?”

“ All right, Pl go, but want you to understand right
here, that I am a tender-foot on the snipe question.
Don’t know that I ever shot one. Have occasionally
stumbled over one while after ducks, but they were too
soon for me,—perhaps because I sent duck shot after
them. But then, you are an old snipe-hunter, and if

92 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

you want me to go with you, I will promise to stay with
you as long as my shells last.”

“ Very well, we will start in the morning about eight.
It’s only two hours drive, and that will give us all the
time we want. How’s that setter of yours—any good?”

“Any good! Well, now, that’s a nice question to
ask. ‘ Any good!’ I should remark that he was. Why,
my dear man, that dog cost me one hundred dollars,
besides expressage. His grandfather was Old Rufus, a
dog that—”

“Oh! let up! What do I care about his grandfather.
What I want to know is, whether he will work close,
stand staunchly, and retrieve ?”

“If that’s what you want to know, he won’t re-
trieve ; wasn’t brought up that way; won’t work close ;
wouldn’t have a dog that would. But for beingstaunch !
I want to tell you what he did one day. When I was
in Western Iowa last—”

“That settles it! If your dog won’t retrieve, we don't
want him. As for what your dog did in Western lowa—
save that, and tell it at the Club. They will probably
be pleased to hear it. What gun are you going to
take? ”

“Think I will take my ten and one-half 1b. hammer-
less ten-gauge. She’s a dandy, full choke, extra close,
and at forty yards, with five drams powder, I can—”

“Tt don’t make any difference to me what you can
do at forty yards. You don’t take that gun. That’s
your duck gun ; and if you were to follow me for three
hours, lugging that cannon, your wife wouldn’t know
you. Why, man, you will be half the time in mud up
to your knees, and the weight of that gun, with shells,
would just about break your back, and paralyze your

—

SNIPE SHOOTING. 93

arms. Take your seven one-fourth lb. 12 ga., load your
shells with three and one half dms. powder,—put three
black or pink edged-wads on the powder, one and one-
eighth oz. No. 9 shot, with a card on top, and you will
have loads that will do their work, if you point your
gun right. Put your long rubber boots on when we go,
the lightest pair you have.

“Well, good-bye. Be sure and be ready at eight in
the morning. Never mind lunch, I will take enough
for both, and furnish a dog too.”

“Here we are. Right on time, exactly eight. Come,
get in, Ned, and we will be off. There’s your wife at
the door waving good-bye to you.”

“ Why, Billie, old boy, what’s this you’ve got here!
Bless me! Your retriever. Is he any good?”

“Please don’t. He didn’t cost any hundred dollars ;
his grandfather never made any record; his father was
a setter, and his mother a spaniel; he takes after his
mother in color and texture of hair,—she being liver
color, and very curly. I got him when a puppy six
weeks old, and trained him myself. What do you
think of him ?”

“ That’s a fair question, and you are entitled to a
straight answer. I think of him about what the dog
said when he looked into the eyes of a cross-eyed cat.
‘ You may be all right, but your looks are mighty de-
ceivin’. But don’t feel offended, Billie, at what I say,
the dog may be all right; his looks are against him,
that’s all.”

“ It’s all right, Ned, if the dog don’t make you open

94 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

your eyes to-day, I ain mistaken. But here we are at
the marsh. Jump out, put about forty shells in your
pocket, and after unhitching the horse, so he can’t
break anything, we will be off.”

This is a beautiful day. Just my idea of the kind
for good snipe shooting. The sun beats down warm;
the wind is blowing fresh and strong from the south,
and we ought to get splendid sport. Look at Don!
How he eyes us with keen intelligence, as if he would
read our inmost thoughts.”

Ned glanced carelessly at the dog, and replied—

“ Do you know, Will, what my idea of a good snipe
day was? A day cold and raw ; withclouds flying, and
the winds blowing a gale from the north or north-west.
I thought that on such a day, they would dislike to fly,
and would lie so close that one could almost kick them
out. Now, you have upset my theory, and as I told
you, I am a tender-foot in snipe shooting, please explain
where I am wrong.”

“ Well, one might say the actions of snipe seem
controlled entirely by the weather. On cold, raw days
they are uneasy, and wary of approach; the whistling
wind and the flying clouds breed in them a spirit of
restlessness identical with the day; instead of nestling
quietly behind some sheltering hummock of grass, pro-
tected from the wind, they hie themselves to the sparse-
ly growing grass on the borders of the marsh, and are
constantly on the alert. It seems impossible to ap-
proach them. They will rise from forty to seventy-five
yards from the hunter, and dart off with the greatest
rapidity. They will not fly far,—perhaps one hundred
yards ; but should one try to get near enough for a
shot, the same performance is gone through with, and

SNIPE SHOOTING. 95

the snipe-shooter returns home disgusted, his bag not
having one, where, considering the birds seen, he feels
he should have five. __

“Tt will be noticed that the influence of the day,
cold, raw and disagreeable, has its effect on the snipe,
and a mild, warm, bright, sunshiny day, with warm
south winds affects them just the opposite.

“¢ How they do love the warm sun of spring, and how
they do hate to be disturbed. They hear the splash,
splash of the hunter; they catch glimpses of his tall
form, slowly but surely approaching them; still, they
don’t fly, simply hugging closer to the ground, instinct
teaching them that their dull, dead gray and white
bodies cannot be distinguished from the marshy ground.
Suddenly, they realize the danger they are in, and de-
spairing of escaping undiscovered, they spring as if
thrown by some hidden power, and away they go, utter-
ing grating ‘Scaipe! Scaipe !’ from their throats. But
what’s the use of telling you this now, Ned; we are on
the ground, and observation for a few hours will teach
you more than I can tell in a week. We will start in
and hunt north. My reason is, we want to go with the
wind. Always hunt snipe with the wind, because they
rise and fly either against the wind, or present quarter-
ing shots. If you hunt against the wind, they will not
lie well, and when they do get up, will fly straight from
you, presenting a small zig-zag mark to shoot at, which
isn’t where you thought it was when you pulled the
trigger. There is no comparison between the flight of
a prairie chicken and a snipe when both are fired at fly-
ing from you.

“Here we are in the marsh! Slip in a couple ci
shells, and keep your eyes open, as they won’t ring a

96 WILD FOWL SHOOTING,

bell before getting up. Don will pickup the dead ones.
You take the first bird that gets up.”

“Let him go,” says Ned, “any time, and if I don’t
knock the stuff K

“Hal! ha! Just what I expected when it flew up.
It rose against the wind, and when you fired the first
barrel it wasn’t twenty feet from you, coming almost
into your face. You missed it with the second, because
your first miss rattled you. Don’t be in such a rush
when they get up. I thought you would shoot too
quick and miss it, so I was prepared for it.

“See! Don has just picked it up, and it’s only
about thirty yards from us; I had plenty of time to kill
it after you fired both barrels. You see what the dog
did? He marked the bird and has gone and got it
while you and I stand talking here.

‘* Now, watch him give it to me.

“ That’s right! Good boy! See, he sits on his
haunches, raises his nose to me, and J take the bird from
his mouth, without having to stoop over a particle. If
there is anything I dislike, it’s having a dog half
retrieve ; or, when bringing the bird all right, to walk
around me, ducking his head, and constantly keeping
the bird out of reach; or, dropping it on the ground at
my feet,—worse still, jumping up, putting his paws on
me, splashing and plastering mud over my clothes. The
latter is decidedly dangerous, and especially so if one is
shooting with a hammer gun.

“Look at your feet, Ned!”

‘“ What’s the matter with my feet? Idon’t see any-
thing,” replied Ned.

“Don’t you see those holes about as large around as
a pencil? They have been boring here for worms, and

‘“SNILOOHS JdiNS

SNIPE SHOOTING. oii

have been having a grand time. Keep a sharp watch,
for this place must be full of them.’

“There now! good shot! A tailer, and you grassed
him beautifully If you make many shots like that, I
shall leave all the tailers for you.”

“ Thanks, William. Iam free to admit that those in-
fernal cross shots I never could make, but straight-
away! they are the ones I am after. When I was in
Dakota after chickens, I never

“Good enough! you ought to have missed it! Got
up right under your feet, and went straight away,—
your favorite shot, too. Here you were going to tell

how you made a record in Dakota on straight-away
shots, and missed the softest kind of a one, while trying
to convince me of your skill.”

“Well, Pllbe blamed! Honestly, I felt sorry for that
snipe when I shot, for I thought it was too easy. I cer-
tainly hold on it.”

“Don’t doubt but you did, Ned. The reason you miss-
ed was, at the instant you pulled the trigger the snipe
changed its intentions, dropped about three feet as if it
was going to light, then, at the crack of your gun con-
cluded to move on. I didn’t shoot, because the smoke
from your gun bothered me.”

Thus the time passed away, until between us, with
frequent misses and many brilliant shots, we had
bagged about thirty birds. We had tramped steadily
for full two hours, and Ned realized the fact when he
said :

“Look here, Will! In ancient times they used to
punish violaters of the law, by placing them on racks
and forcibly pulling their limbs apart. Do you know I
think they make a great mistake. What they ought to

4

98 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

have done was, made them hunt snipe in such walking
as this. Honestly, I believe I have dislocated my spine,
pulled apart some of the ligaments of my body, and
sprained my right ankle. Thunder! but I am tired.”

I most certainly could not deny this assertion, and
the heavy manner in which he dragged his weary legs
along proved it. Poor fellow! I can imagine I see
him now.

‘“ Hark! What's that noise,” said he, “I have
heard it for the last half-hour.”

Directing his attention to a small speck in the air
overhead, I replied:

‘The noise you hear is made by a jack-snipe. On
warm, bright days, singly, sometimes two or three will
arise to a great height, so high, indeed, that they be-
come at times indistinct. When at an extreme height
they describe a circle from fifty to eighty yards in
diameter; then suddenly descend with the greatest
rapidity for thirty or forty yards, then ascend again.
The noise made is in their descent, caused, probably, by
their wings cutting the air, making that strange, quiver-
ing, tremulous sound you have heard so often to-day.
Some hunters ascribe it to their becoming uneasy, and
as an indication of their intending leaving for some
other feeding ground. Others say it’s their way of
courting, and the frank acknowledgment on the partof
the male that he wishes to choose a mate. But the
more practical hunters say they do it because they know
they are the only bird that can do it with grace and
rapidity—”’

“Ned,” said I, “ let’s get out of this.”

We were in a place where the bogs were from one
to three feet apart.

SNIPE SHOOTING. 99

« And we will go to the wagon and have lunch. Keep
a sharp lookout where you step, and avoid stumbling
against any of the bogs, or you will get a fall.”

“JT will,” replied he; but at that instant his left foot
stuck in the mud, his right plunged forward, striking a
large hillock, and down he went, his gun landing in the
mud about six feet from him. To save himself, he
threw out his hands, and they stuck in to the wrists in
the slimy mud. I helped himup. His once fair face
was spotted with mud, and he was a laughable object
to look at. I laughed and laughed until my sides
ached and the tears streamed down my cheeks. All
this time he stared at me, never smiling once. Sud-
denly he said:

“ Are you through?”

I replied, Yes.”

“Then ” said he “ any man who will laugh and enjoy
the result of an accident, as you have, my candid
opinion of him is, and I stand ready to prove it, that
he is a chump, and daren’t take it up, and that I can
lick him in a minute.”

I appeased his anger, helped him get the mud off, and
in a few minutes his accustomed good humor returned,
and he said he didn’t blame me a iss for laughing.

After lunch and an hour’s rest, selecting fered walk-
ing, we bagged about twenty more. Ned was willing
to admit that Don as a retriever could not be beat, but
that it was a pity that he would not point the birds.

“Ned,” said I, “I have hunted snipe for a great
many years, both with and without dogs, and excepting
the pleasure derived from seeing a good dog quarter
and point staunchly, I would rather hunt with a
retriever than any other way. Snipe must be hunted

100 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

with the wind. Now, if one hunts with a dog, expect-
ing him to point and do justice to himself, the dog can-
not do it, because going with the wind his power of
scent is reduced to such an extent that the poor fellow
is handicapped, and by the time he gets near enough to
the snipe to wind it, the snipe sees and hears him, the
bird is flushed; the hunter scolds the dog, he cannot
do himself credit, soon realizes it, and is discouraged.
On the other hand, I know where to look for them.
Don at my heels is ever on the alert; he sees the snipe
when it gets up; when it falls he knows I expect him
to mark the bird; and should I have half a dozen down
atone time, to bring them to me. I also mark the spots
where they fall as near as I can, and should the dog
neglect to retrieve any, as nearas possible I send him to
the spot. By his keen scent and systematic ranging he
soon finds the bird.”

“Right here, Ned, if you ever hunt jack-snipe with-
out a retriever, when a bird falls, mark the spot, and
don't you take your eyes off it, either. If you do, your
game bag will contain one snipe less than it ought to.
It is the hardest thing in the world to find,—a dead
snipe, after you have once lost sight of the place where
it fell. If it falls on its back, then there is no trouble,
since its white breast makes it a conspicuous object ;
but let it fall breast down, with wings a little out-
stretched, it is exactly the color of mud and grass, and
as a fact, it would be as hard for you to find that bird
as it would be for your wife to find you home on lodge
night before half-past eleven.

“T promised that you should find out what kind of a
dog Don is. You see that spot to your right about
twenty yards? That's a likely place for snipe. We

SNIPE SUOOTING. 101

cannot get across there, because of the mud; we must
not leave without investigating it, and Don must help
us out.”

Sending the dog on, and directing him by motion, I
continued my conversation with Ned.

* Now, watch him! How’s that? Look how stealthily
he goes along, no chance for a long swinging lope in
that deep mud. Watch him! how he goes, half lope, half
trot. Steady, old boy! How’s that for a point, Ned?”
Don had drawn on toasnipe. The indistinct scent
would have made undecided a less staunch and experi-
enced dog. Notso with him. That faint scent was to
him almost the breath of life. There he stood, motion-
less, as if carved of stone. It seemed as though the
scent of the snipe had petrified him. He stood leaning
forward, seeming in anticipation as if from the hidden
depths of the marsh the snipe might suddenly arise be-
fore we were ready. Half crouching, he dared not step
backward, lest the noise might frighten the bird. He
dared not look at us, lest once doing so he might lose
the faint scent of the snipe; and thus undecided, yet
decided, he stood a picture of life, once seen never to be
forgotten. His nose was held high in air, as if to in-
voke the assistance of the mild fresh breeze to help him
retain the scent. His ears were slightly cocked, as if
some slight noise might disclose to him the hiding-place
of the wary bird. He looked steadily before him, the
pupils of his eyes dilating, entranced by the scent of
the hidden object. His tail stood out straight behind
him, like a rod of iron; no lashing of it now, from side
to side, until at times the tip was red with blood, from
reeds and rushes, from grass and brush beating against
his sturdy sides. His left fore foot raised until its ball

102 WILD FOWL SUOOTING.

seemed almost touching his side. But look ! He moves!
The snipe has skulked away from his first hiding
place, emboldened by the silence of the pointing dog.
Skulk, glide, steal away, my eccentric friend ; the nos-
trils once filled with your delicate scent will not give
you up, but will follow you tirelessly, until you attempt
to escape with your swift moving wings. Slowly, cau-
tiously, never for an instant relaxing the vigor, the
stiffness of the muscles of his body, the dog creeps for-
ward. How quietly he moves; how gently, how noise-
lessly, he puts down first one foot and then the other
in the soft soil. He fears almost to put them down,
least the grating of his feet and legs on the dried grass
should arouse the bird. He is moving ina westerly
direction now, and the breeze will aid him in the scent.

Apparently the bird is some thirty feet ahead of him.
The cross wind blowing from the south brings a new
scent to him. Quick as lightning he turns his head to
the left, dropping his head, and crouching still lower,
he points a bird within ten feet of him.

Ned could stand it no longer, and with flushed face,
and eyes filled with brightness, enthusiastically ex-
claimed, “Splendid! grand! I never saw a dog work
like that. Do you know, Will, from the time the dog
first winded that bird, I never took my eyes off him,
and when he pointed, then roaded, then pointed again,
I most felt that I could smell the snipe; but when he
came to the second bird, and twisted his head so sud-
denly, I felt the cold chills run down my _ back,
and a

“Great Scott,’ exclaimed Ned, as a snipe got up
right under his feet, which he knocked over within
ten yards of him.

SNIPE SHOOTING. 103

“ Mark, Ned,” said I, directing Don to start it up.
He jumped almost over the bird, flushing it, when I
missed it clean, Ned wiping my eye. This did him lots
of good, and he took especial pains to call my attention
to it several times during the day. We worked the
marsh both ways, crossing and recrossing, to give the
dog the benefit of the wind all we could. Feeling we
had enough for one day, about seventy, and intending
to come again, we started for home, after being snugly
tucked under the robes. The evening air was delight-
fully cool and refreshing, after our hard tramp in the
sun.

Ned broke the silence as follows: ‘“ When I first
saw that dog of yours, Will, I formed a mighty poor opin-
ion of him. I think he knew it, the way I acted to-
ward him. Right here, and in your presence, I want
to apologize to him.”

Saying this, he caught Don by the nose, looked into
his upturned face, and said, “ Don, I am mighty sorry
if I have hurt your feelings, if you were of the feminine
gender I would call you a ‘ Daisy,’ but being of the op-
posite sex, you area‘ Dandy.” At this Don sneezed,
caused by Ned holding his nose high in air. Ned smiled
and acknowledged it as au acceptance of his apology
on the part of the dog.

Then, turning to me, he said, ‘* What do you know
about snipe? Where can they be found; that is, in
what countries other than this, if any?”

“Why, Ned,” I replied, +‘ Wilson’s snipe derived
their name from the great ornithologist and naturalist,
Wilson. There are no birds so universally scattered
over the face of the globe as this same corkscrew gen-
tleman. He is found in China, having been seen in the

L104 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

markets there, on the coast of Brazil, in the rice fields
of Egypt; they are found in Java and Sumatra, and in
almost all the islands of the Indian Sea, in Madagascar,
Ceylon, Japan, the Falkland Islands, in the desolate
solitudes of the Southern Atlantic : in the arctic regions
of Siberia, and in every part of the old Continent, on
the Pacific Slope, and almost everywhere in the United
States. They afford sport to the citizens of the extreme
South, and are digested with toast by the epicures of
the far North. By sportsmen everywhere they are
welcomed.

“T noticed to-day that they bothered you consider-
ably. You are a fair shot for an inexperienced one,—
ought to be good at chickens, but ducks would worry
you. Youare asnap shot, your gun discharging al-
most at the instant of touching the shoulder. There
are two occasions when one can shoot snipe successful-
ly. First, before they have got fully started, firing at
them as soon as they jump from the grass; second,
when they have flown thirty or forty yards. When
they have gone that distance they settle into a compar-
atively steady flight, and are not difficult to hit. What
it requires then is a hard hitting gun, and the shooter
to be a good judge of distance, speed and the velocity of
shot. The medium period of shooting, the time be-
tween these two, is the time when most new snipe shots
shoot. This is when the snipe display their agility,
and try to twist themselves into a spiral or gimlet of
life. Not succeeding after going fifteen to thirty yards,
they recognize the fact that they can’t turn themselves
inside out, and settle down to a steady flight. ‘The be-
ginner cracks away at them at this time, misses many
and gets disgusted,—his disgust not being alleviated

SNIPE SHOOTING. 105

by mopping the perspiration from his forehead, or mak-
ing a misstep, wrenching his limbs. The trouble with
you, Ned, is on those long cross-shots ; you bang away
quickly, make no time allowance for distance between
you and the bird—shoot away ; if you hit it, all right; if
you don’t, you secretly curse your luck, or blame the
gun, when you, and you alone, are to blame. At those
long cross-shots, the same as I saw you miss to-day, you
ought to have fired at least from—My! How the time
has slipped by. Here we are at your gate. Some day
Don and I are going to take you with us after ducks.
Then I will demonstrate to you that your snap shoot
ing won’t do at long range—

If at forty yards a foot seems too far ahead,
Make it two, keep your gun moving, and the bird falls dead.

Excuse this poetry, but I can assure you it’s not
only spontaneous, but original. Good-bye,” and Ned,
with one-half the snipe we killed, passed quickly in the
gate,and ITwent home. Thus passed one day among
the snipe.

Does the reader think Ned enjoyed this hunt? Can-
not you recall many incidents in your life similar to
this? When cold winter has passed silently away, and
warm welcome spring has returned, when birds are fill-
ing the air with melody, streams flowing joyously along
freed from their ice-bound covering, buds are swelling,
grass in tiny sprouts peeping inquiringly through the
brown earth? The hunter is a generous soul, he loves
nature in all her many changes, and delights to wander
admiring her beauties in her manifold forms. He feels
as Milton did, when he expressed himself so beautifully
in these words :

106 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

‘¢ In these vernal seasons of the year, when the air is
calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness
against nature, not to go out and see her riches, and
partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.”

Description. “The snipe is eleven inches long,
and seventeen in extent. The bill is more than two
aud one-half inches long, fluted lengthwise, of a brown
color and black toward the tip, where it is very smooth
while the bird is alive, but soon after it is killed becomes
dimpled, like the end of a thimble. Crown black, di-
vided by an irregular line of pale brown, and another
broader one of the same tint passes over eacheye. From
the bill to the eye there is a narrow, dusky line; neck
and upper part of the breast pale brown, variegated with
touches of white and dusky; chin, pale; back and
scapulars deep velvety black, the latter elegantly
marbled with waving lines of ferruginous, and broadly
edged exteriorly with white ; wings, plain, dusky, all the
feathers, as well as those of the coverts tipped with white ;
shoulder of the wing deep, dusky brown; exterior quill
edged with white; tail coverts long, reaching within
three-quarters of an inch of the tip, and of a pale rust
color, spotted with black; tail rounded, deep black,
ending in a bar of bright ferruginous, crossed with
narrow, waving lines of black and tipped with whitish ;
belly, pure white; sides barred with dusky; legs and
feet a very pale, ashy green ; sometimes the whole thighs
and sides of the vent are tarred with dusky and white.
The female is more obscure in her colors, the white on
the belly being Jess pure, and the black on the back not
so deep.”

MALLARD—TIMBER SHOOTING. 107

CHAPTER IX.
MALLARD—TIMBER SHOOTING.

ALonG the rivers in the West, duck shooters look
ahead with fond anticipations of approaching spring,
with its annual overflows, its complete submersion of low-
lands, for in such places, among the tall and stately trees,
in the murmuring, gurgling overflow, mallards had rather
be in this season than in any other place. The hunter
knows this, and as the short days of winter glide gradu-
ally away, from beneath the hidden place from out its
case or box his favorite gun is brought. With tender
solicitude he fondly handles it, carefully looks through
the shining barrels, thoughtfully feels the true springs
of the lock as he raises the hammers, and then carefully
lowers them; or, if a hammerless, with outward indiffer-
ence he slides back and forth the safety catch. He won-
ders if he has forgotten his old time skill, if lack of practice
has dulled his eye, or stiffened or made less supple his
arms, or his muscles; he looks out the window with
thoughtful mien, and his eye sees the deep black on the
top of his neighbor’s chimney, an arrow on the topmost
crest of the house, some filagree work in distinct relief.
He brings his gun toshoulder, glances over the rib, and
then, right in front of the muzzle, accurately, he sees the
object covered by the sighted gun. With a grim smile
of satisfaction he lowers the gun, then raises it again
and again, each time his faultless aim, his faithful arm

105 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

covers the object aimed at. His aspirations are greater,
and quickly aiming first one place, then another, he sees
that he has made adouble. Regrctfully sighing he puts
the gun away, and looking round spies his wife stand-
ing looking smilingly at him. He thinks to act indif-
ferently and tells her he was looking at his gun, “ afraid
it would rust.” She looks at him archly and replies,
“ Guns must rust very easily, for you examined yours
only yesterday.” They go out together on that bright
Sunday afternoon, the melted snow coursing in tiny
rivulets down descending places, the bright sunshine
ereeting with affectionate glances all the earth, the blue
birds flitting, the robins caroling,—all nature glad at
the approach of spring. ‘The wife talks of house clean-
ing, of papering, of spring repairs, of flowers throwing
out sweet incense of perfume, of roses, pinks, hyacinths,
and lilies, and how the flower beds will be made, how
the blooming flowers will blossom prolifically,—thus she
walks so sprightly, thus she talks so ightly, wondering
at his silence. Was he listening? Yes, so far as a man
could, while his thoughts were far away, down in the
depths of some deep wood, where the rising water had
overflowed the banks, leaving slight ridges where acorns

were abundant. His wife turns suddenly and looks at.

his face. She sees him looking at thesky so reverentially.
Allowing her sight to drift in the same direction, what
does she see? Golden—lined clouds floating slowly
through the air, driven by the mild south wind? Nothing
of the kind. Instead, she sees about a dozen geese flying
north, led by an old honking gander. How does this
compare with the reader's experience ? But never mind,
don’t plead guilty,—the liuw presumes you innocent until
actual guilt is proven.

|
)

MALLARD—TIMBER SHOOTING. 109

When the hunter is among the timber, he must not
think that, because all around him there is a perfect
sea of water, that one place is as good as another; for
in spite of the plenteousness of water, the seeming same-
ness of all places, there is a great difference, and this the
ducks know. As the hunter stands on some ridge with
water all round him running gently, then again in
another place flowing swiftly, he should mark the general
direction of the flight, and notice where they are drop-
ping in. Possibly, he will think that all through the
timber the wateris thesame; that the ducks are flying
aimlessly around with no object in view, simply delighted
at finding so much water. Not so; they are looking for
a feeding spot, a place where sluggish water lies ; where
they can swim in any direction without effort, where,
thickly strewn in the water, tender willow twigs abound,
where, in its shallowness, without diving—mallards do
not dive for food—they can stretch their necks and feel
along the ground, or tip up their bodies, stick their bills
into the soft mud, dig out the relished acorn, while to
sustain them in this position they gracefully stand on
their heads, and to keep their balance occasionally fan
the air with their broad feet.

This is the place the hunter should seek, and not
rest until he finds it. Be assured it is to be found in
the timber, and the ducks will be there waiting for you.
When routed out, they will come again, and keep
coming. When you look for a spot like this, hunt for
high ridges. When most places are overflowed, the
swift current will run around them, then quietly steal
back behind the protecting ridges in little eddies ; and
while the water booms and roars in the river, it is so
quiet and still in these places of back water, that leaves

110 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

and sticks float immovably on the surface. Don’t you
suppose the ducks know this? Of course they do.
One of the cardinal teachings of their early education
was to hunt out these places. It was an early lesson
to them, and one they will never forget. It is more
natural, then, that they should choose a place where
they can leisurely feed, than to be carried along by ¢
swift-flowing, turbulent stream. To get ata place of
this kind it is almost always necessary to have a boat.
Grant that you have a boat and a good dog, let me put
you down in a place of this kind. You hide the boat,
drawing it in among the trees out of sight, fill your
pockets with shells and are ready for shooting. Look
around and see how I have placed you. You are facing
the south, behind you the trees stand closely together,
their limbs forbidding shooting in that direction. And
again, because the main body of the river flows there.
and your dog would soon tire himself out. Take your
stand in the blind I have made you, just on the verge
of the shallow water. You think the blind isn’t high
enough? Why, it is fully 45 feet. Your clothes are
corduroy, nearly the color of the trees. The ducks
won't see you unless you move, and you will have to
stand anyway. So by merely bending your body a
trifle, you are hid and simply have to straighten up
when ready to shoot. You notice that open place just
across the little point? I know you do, and are won-
dering why I haven’t put you over there instead of
here, for you think then you could shoot on all sides.
That is true in one sense, but, were you there, the birds
would come high over the timber and commence to
lower their flight just as they were getting out of range.
As the wind is with them, they always light up wind.

MALLARD—TIMBER SHOOTING. 1G

As you are now facing the south, the wind blows from
you, and the ducks will fly over you with the wind,
then come back against the wind to alight. Notice par-
ticularly how the decoys are placed. Eighteen in all,
quite a flock. Instead of putting them in bunches, or
flocks, they are strung in pairs up and down this narrow
place, forty yards each side of you. Why is this done ?
Because they have commenced to pair, and you will
notice they are flying in pairs all the time. Possibly
you thought while setting them out I was a little par-
ticular. So I was, for I wanted every pair to be in the
sunshine. There they glitter and show up nicely. See
what a nice, open place I have selected for you, giving
a clear view to the east, west and south. What a
splendid day, with the sun shining in a cloudless sky,
and a mild, cool north wind. Use your duck squawk
frequently whether you see birds or not. Often they
will be in hearing if not in sight. Don’t attempt shoot-
ing through the tops of those trees behind you, for
through those limbs and twigs you won't kill once in
twenty times. It is surprising how one misses in shoot-
ing through the tree tops,—shots that one is certain of :
every duck shooter knows this. You are now ready for
business and pleasure. Just allow me to step into the
blind with you and see you kill a pair. No, thanks!
Keep the gun,—I want you to do the shooting.

Mark, west. A duck! Call her. Well, well, wonder
why she didn’t come? Must have seenus! Nothing of
the kind. Don’t feel hurt that you frightened her away
with your call. When you blew it, you made the sound
too loud. She wasn’t far, about a hundred yards—and in
this still woods would have heard a soft mellow call. In-
stead of calling in that way, you filled your lungs withair,

112 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

then shot it through the call at the bird. It wasn't the call
she’expected to hear when she saw the decoys. This is
the way you called: Quack—quack—quack! Do you
know when you heard that call before to-day? Well,
I will tell you; It was when you routed those single
ducks out of the timber as you came through. It was
a cry of fright with them. That’s what scared the duck.
When you see them coming in, and off, say 100 to 200
yards, call, until their attention is attracted to the de-
coys. After they once set their wings to come in,
don’t call, but keep quiet. At this time click with
your tongue, just as you would at a horse. This
attracts them very quickly. When you call them at
a distance govern your voice according to where they
are. Remember, that slight sounds travel speedily
and far in the quiet woods. Learn this call: * Me-
amp ”’—* Me-amp,” Utter it in a baritone voice, soft-
ly, with a vibration. Practice this, and you will
have one that you can depend on, and will always
be on hand when wanted. Here comesa pair. Now, let’s
see you make a double. See how their wings are set ;
how they are bowed. No! no! don’t shoot. They will
turn; let them come back. See how pretty they are
in the sunlight; the golden yellow on the duck, the
chestnut and white, the emerald green on the drake.
Don’t move; now try and get them both. Ha! ha!
You are a great one! Bound to have the drake, wasn’t
you? Well, you got him, if you did loose the duck.
Really, you ought to have killed them both. But in
your anxiety to kill the drake you showed poor judg-
ment. The duck was about thirty-five yards from you,
the drake twenty five. If you had shot the duck first,
then the drake would have been plenty close enough

MALLARD—TIMBER SHOOTING. 113

to kill; but after you fired at the drake, and the smoke
cleared away, the duck had too much the start of you,
and consequently got away. Bear this in mind here-
after, that when two ducks come in, in killing distance,
always shoot the one farther away first. Iam going
to leave you, now, right in this blind. Ihave placed
you where the ducks are, and it would be ungenerous
on your part to expect me to kill them, — you must do
that. By the way, please keep secret this place; it’s a
favorite one of mine. I found it two years ago, and
right in this very place, at that time, an inexperienced
shot and myself bagged mee mallards in two days.

MALLARD SHOOTING LN iCH LIOLES., 115

CHAPTER X.
MALLARD SHOOTING IN ICE HOLES.

LATE in the fall or very early in the spring, excellent
shooting may be had at times in ice-holes. These holes
are found in swift-running water, or are what is gen-
erally known as air holes. When the weather has been
cold and prairie ponds are frozen, driving the ducks
from open land to timber, naturally at this time they
seek water wherever it may be found, They fly
through the timber and over the trees in constant
search for open water,—places where experience had
heretofore taught them that water and feed could be
found in plenty. Their flight is slow, their search
thorough, and they are not unrewarded, for they find
an open spot where water may be had. When they
find a place like this they alight in great numbers.
The quantity lighting in the hole depending on the
number of them coming. This hole, like an omnibus,
always has room for one more; and in they come, dart-
ing, sailing, fluttering, until the sheet of water resem-
bles a mass of moving life. After the hole is filled
they become generous, and wishing to make room for
fresh arrivals, that come like a deluge pouring down
from the sky in every direction, they crawl out and sit
on the ice, quacking vociferously, or with craws dis-
tended with corn, fruits of the last over-land trip, they
sit on the ice blinking, preening and sleeping the time
away. Theirloud calls vibrate and course through the

116 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

still woods, carrying welcome music to the alert
ears of the hunter. He marks the direction, and
stealthily proceeds in the direction of the resting birds,
whence faint and almost indistinct calls are wafted
to him; then some noisy duck, having partaken too
freely of corn, and feeling the effects of its fermenta-
tion, raises her pretty head and quacks so loudly
that he marks the spot where the birds are located.
His dog is filled with nervous apprehension lest he
commit some act, show some movement that will at-
tract the attention of the hordes of resting ducks.
Cautiously the hunter raises his hand, as he turns and
beams on his four-footed companion a look so full of
warning. The dog interprets his master’s thoughts,
and returns to him a bright look, so full of confidence
and cautiousness. They understand each other: one
is human, the other of the brute creation. The mas-
ters mind shows his thoughts in his eager eyes ; the
dog receives it, and is governed accordingly. No need
of words,—their understanding is complete and satis-
factory, and the dog treads noiselessly in the foot-
steps of his master, carefully avoiding dried sticks,
twigs and rattling leaves. The hunter desires to re-
connoitre, and stooping over with trailing gun in hand,
he steals toward the vast trunk of an ancient oak. As
he nears it he drops gently, quietly on his knees, and
lithes himself toward the objective tree. Gaining it,
he rises carefully, peers intently round its wrinkled
body, and drinks in with delight the pleasurable sight
before him. As if the dog could read the innermost
thoughts of his master’s mind, he imitates each move
of the hunter, governed by the same thought, the dog
advances, hesitates, stops, in exact conjunction with

MALLARD SHOOTING IN ICE HOLES. a

his master. As the man stoops, the dog crouches
lower, and neither look to the right or left, but gaze
steadily ahead with increased interest, knowing with-
outseeing, what they are approaching. When the hunter
gets still lower and crawls along the ground, without
looking around he reaches behind him, closes his
fingers tightly together, drops his hand near the
ground, reaches far back, shows his open palm to his
silent companion, and thus conveys to him warning for
greater caution. The dog understands this signal, and
crouches still closer to the earth. Stealthily he steals
and glides along, so low he cannot get lower without
crawling, for This belly scrapes twigs and leaves
and dead sticks. What an intent look in his quiet, de-
termined face! His tail, his pride, that has so often
beat brush, grass, weeds and briar, when in the open
field or murky swamp, now hangs behind him still and
lifeless, lest its movement might disclose his master
and himself; and then, when he reaches his master’s
side, the anticipation of a hunter is felt by him: he be-
comes inquisitive ; the quacking of the ducks is plain-
ly heard; the dog is unable to resist the temptation,
raises his head with eyes brightly beaming, looking as
if they might almost burst from their sockets ; his ears
bent forward listening for faintest sound; his teeth
imperceptibly chatter as he tries in vain to curb his
strong emotion. His master notes his excited state,
quietly lays his strong hand on the intelligent brown
head, tenderly pushes it down, while the dog casts on
him a look of gentle reproach, while the love-light
shines from his handsome eyes, as he looks into the
eyes of his friend, his companion, his master, whom he
would gladly die for.

118 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Those two friends stand silently hid behind the pro-
tecting tree, the hunter debating in his mind, whether
to step boldly out, plainly in view and rout the birds,
or attempt, by crawling, to get a sitting shot. He de-
cides the former, and when he steps out in open sight,
is seen, and with a grand roar that fills the woods with
its volume, the birds arise in fright, and in pairs and
flocks, both great and small, fly away. The dog looks
askance at his master, questioning the propriety of
routing such an immense flock without firing a shot ;
but a reassuring pat on the head, a kind word, dispels
the doubt from his mind, and he cheerfully and silent-
ly acquiesces to the judgment of his master. The ducks
are loath to leave a place like this, and soon begin to
return—they will not keep out. Coolly the hunter
knocks them right and left; the dog is in an eestasy of
delight. Constant exercise has caused the blood to
rush through his veins; he comes and goes in and out
the water, his brown coat glistening with glittering
ice, forming brilliant beads in the sun-light; then he
marks the course of a wing-tipped drake, as it tries
hard to follow the flock, and falls one or two hundred
yards from the shooter. Away he goes along the
ridges, through brush-piles, over frozen sloughs and
soon returns, the drake in his strong jaws, with its
good wing beating against his nose, while its long neck
encircled with its white tie, its glossy dark green
head teeters and swings up and down in perfect rythm
with the movement of the dog’s body.

When a man finds a place like this, he has found a
mine, which is exhaustless for that day. If he intends
staying in the neighborhood, he should hunt some
other place similar to this,—hunt them on alternate

MALLARD SHOOTING IN ICE HOLES. 119

days, and his shooting will be excellent each day. It
is advisable to scatter corn both in the hole and around
its edges on the ice; put plenty in the hole if the water
is shallow. The birds will soon discover this and will
come often ; and if the hunter is a good shot, will tarry
long. As fast as killed, set up the dead ducks for
decoys; keep on until you have a good sized flock,—no
fear of having too many, the more the better. In build-
ing a blind, advantage must be taken of locality. Ifin
timber, secrete yourself well witha good open place to
shoot through. Better have an indifferent blind, and
an open place to shoot through, than the best of blinds
when you find you cannot shoot without interference
of limbs. Should you find the shooting must be had in
an exposed pond or river, where a shore blind cannot
be made, your ingenuity will be taxed to hide yourself
and you must depend as much on quietness and
patience, as on a blind. Should the ice be strong
enough to bear you, build a small wall 8 or 10
inches high of ice or snow to conceal you; a little hay,
a rubber blanket spread over it; cover yourself with
a white cloth, wait patiently; it’s a splendid place for
contemplation, especially if the thermometer registers
down about zero; and you can drive away the coldness
by thinking of Turkish baths, strawberries and cream,
and the church sociables you enjoyed the past summer.

One writer speaking of ice-hole shooting, says a
a good way to build a blind is, “take a barrel, chop a
hole through the ice so the barrel will shp through,
nail pieces of scantling on the sides of the barrel, fill
the barrel with water until it sinks down far enough,
then bail the water out, first cutting narrow edges
through the ice; push the scantlings down, give them

120 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

a half twist and they will hold the barrel where wanted.
Put in hay and push snow against the top of the barrel
to hide it, and the blind is complete.”

No doubt this would work, but it would hardly pay
to go toso much trouble. The only good way is to
shoot from the shore as first mentioned,—any other
manner has drawbacks that will more than offset the
pleasure derived.

Never take any chances in trying to get duck shoot-
ing around ice. Better not get a shot than attempt to
get to some place where there is a flight, and then
take chances on breaking in. If you haven't a boat
or a good dog, and know you cannot get the dead birds
without retrieving them yourself over ice that might
be weak, turn your back to that hole and walk away,—
you have no right to take any such chance, and no wise
man will do it. Death by drowning is said to be an
easy death. If, then, you prefer death in this way,
choose summer time; the water will feel decidedly more
pleasant, and flowers are much cheaper.

IN THE MARSH. 121

CHAPTER XI.

IN TPE MARSH—MORNING, MIDDAY AND EVENING
DUCK SHOOTING.

OnE of the first impressions engrafted into the mind
of the young hunter is the thought of early and late
shooting. When he has become fully supplied with
gun, clothes, dog, decoys, and the many incidentals that
go toward completing his armament or outfit, his mind
naturally runsin the channel of shooting. Older friends
and experienced hunters tell him what they have done,
times they have had, shooting in indistinct light by the
dim twilight, and even by the moon’s pale rays. 5o
his desire is to start early, and either by driving or
rowing, to be stationed on the shooting ground at break
of day.

Grant, then, indulgent reader, that you and I know
such an amateur hunter, and for the purpose of illustra-
tion, allow me to take an inexperienced person out for
a hunt, the special object being to give him the benefit
of our experience and practical knowledge. Among
our intimate friends, now that you are to have a voice
in choosing, who shall: we take? Ah! I read your
thoughts ; mine are the same, and he is the one I will
ask. Who is it? Why, who could it be but yourself.
It seems strange how the same thoughts will run at
times, in the minds of different persons, doesn’t it!
Possibly you smile and reply, ‘Great minds run in
the same channel.” Not so with us, however, for we

122 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

lay no claims to greatness. Your claims, no doubt, are
those of innate modesty, while mine are

“ Well! well! come with me, and we will get things
ready for an early start, as we have five to seven miles
to go, and must be in the marsh at break of day. You
can get shells at the gunsmith’s loaded, or, if you prefer,
load them yourself. Atany rate take plenty. Better
bring back twenty, than run short. No matter what
your success may have been in any one day, if you allow
yourself to run short a few shells, the pleasure derived
is entirely lost, by reason of the chagrin and disappoint-
ment felt when out of shells. You will find it poor con-
solation indeed to think how many shells you have left
at home, and ‘might have brought along.’ Yes, you
will feel that you might have done a great many things—
and as you see the mallards flopping over your decoys,
then alighting within twenty yards, saying to you deri-
sively, ‘ M’amph!’ you willgodown in your pockets for
the twentieth time feeling for the shell that isn’t there,
then grate your teeth, smother an exclamation, forcible
but not elegant, appropriate but not refined, and you
will arise in your blind filled with disgust, as you see
the mallard rise and leisurely fly away, while over the
marsh his mocking cry reaches you, ‘ M’amph,’
‘m’amph.’ Then, through your brain, fast fleeting
thoughts pursue one another, and this one always at
the head—how thoughtless I was in not bringing
more shells!’ Then you think you might possibly
have been a bigger fool,—but you doubt it emphatically.

“The shooting to-morrow will be mostly over decoys.
Your gun throws No. 6 shot, close and strong, and that
is the size you had better shoot. That size you will
find is always right for ducks in a choke bore gun; _be-

IN THE MARSH. 123

cause the gun will throw them closely together, and
you will find, if held right, that sneaking eripples will
stand a poor chance of escaping the charge ; while pin-
tails circling around at a height of fifty and even sixty
yards, will be much surprised, for we will kill them, and
a good many of them, at that height. If Iremember right,
you told me your gun was a 10 bore, weighed nine and
three-quarters pounds, 380in. bbl; right barrel modified,
left full choke. That is just my idea of a gun, except
with me a gun for ducks should have both barrels full
choked. It cannot shoot too close for ducks. Your shells
load with four and a half dms. powder. What kind? It
doesn't matter much,—any kind you get from a reliable
dealer will satisfy you. Now, don’t be in a hurry to
load your shells, but use care, for they must be loaded
carefully and properly, to expect good results. By
the way, here is a shell I had in my pocket the other
day, when out targeting my gun. This is the kind
you want. You won’t have time to load shells this
afternoon, so go to the gunsmith’s and order enough
like this, four and a half dms. powder, one card on
powder, two pink-edged No. 9 on that, then another
card; next one and one-eighth ozs. No. 6 chilled shot,
with card on that; then crimp tightly. That’s what I
use for ducks. Don’t be afraid of chilled shot hurting
the inside of the barrels, no fear of that; experiments
have been made time and again, and it has been de-
monstrated beyond a doubt that 1t does not injure the
metal in the least.

* Don’t know as I have time. Yet, seeing I am right
here, passing your house, will step in for a moment and
see what kind of a hunting outfit you have. Good

enough! Corduroy all through; coat, vest and pants—

124 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

although I don’t like that cap, a hat is much better;
it affords protection from both sun and rain, and you
will find a cap a nuisance in the rain, and very little
use in the sunshine. Your clothes, dead-grass color, are
all right for marsh shooting ; indeed, almost do equal-
ly as wellin the timber. Hope your long rubber boots
are big enough for you. If there is one thing I dislike
more than another it’s tight-fitting rubber boots. Mine
are always one size larger than my feet. You needn’t
laugh, I don’t have to have them made to order.

‘Now, be sure and dress warm. Duck shooting is
cold work, and although it’s only the middle of No-
vember, a cold rain may set in, or a snow storm, and
it’s far better to be dressed too warm, than suffer the
shightest cold. Take your rubber coat along, no matter
what kind of a morning it is. I never go without one.
I did once, and stood out in the rain all day without
any protection, or place to go to get dry. The only
comfort I had all that time was sympathy. This, from
my companion, who, warmly ensconced in a long rubber
coat, continuously throughout the day, dried my shiver-
ing bones with sympathy. I learned a lesson that day
and haven’t forgotten it. Sympathy is very good to take
in small doses, but sheds water poorly ; along rubber
coat is far preferable. My rubber coat is dead grass
color, and I have often stood in it in pelting rain
for hours, without discomfort.

‘In the morning at three o’clock I will call for you.
Pretty early? I know, but we want the early morning
shooting, and we must be on the ground at break of
day. I will take Don along. He will retrieve for both
of us. Well, good day. Iam going to the warehouse
to get boat and decoys ready.”

IN THE MARSH. 125

Three o’clock in the morning, with the moon dimly
shining, I call at your home. Of course you are up.
What young hunter goes to bed with mind filled with
pleasant anticipations of a day of sport is able to sleep
out his allotted time? He still remains undiscovered.
Asa dark shadows flits between me and the lighted lamp,
I knowa youthful form is impatiently awaiting my com-
ing. The door is open, and cordial greeting invites me
in. Fragrant and delicious there steals to me through
the frosty air the aroma of boiling coffee, and as I glance
back at the calm sky, it seems to me that thesilent stars
glitter less coldly down on the slumbering earth.
Thoughtful in you to have this coffee ready before our
departure. It is wonderful the effect a cup of hot
coffee has on one’s system when starting out at break
of day; there is nothing equal to it. A cup of coffee
and a sandwich then are not surpassed by the most
elaborate menu at any other time. There is an indefin-
able relish in it that every hunter knows and appre-
clates.

The frosty November air has laden all unprotected
objects with a whitened shroud. The stillness of the
surroundings, the purity of the atmosphere, causes the
faint rappings of the oars against the boat’s side to re-
sound with aloud crash. Don lies snugly at my feet,
his favorite bed. You pull with youthful strength and
vigor the light boat, until she skims over the water;
then, as if to show the strength of your strong arms,
your broad back bends to the oars, the ash blades quiver,
the boat not sufficiently long to respond to the full force
of those strong strokes surges ahead, displacing a huge
volume of water at her bow; while waves of miniature
billows retreat from the boat’s sides. As you raise the

126 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

glades from the water your wrists are slightly moved
forward, the oars are spooned, and the broad blades
lightly skip on the surface, while little globules of water
look as silver in the moon’s rays. How quietly grand
the scene as we go down the river. Above and below
us the shimmering water, overhead the crescent moon,
the twinkling stars. At the east the quiet island, where,
in the darkness, oak and willows, hickory and birch, ash
and maple trees, commingle together in indistinct pro-
fusion. At the west is the slumbering city, with its
massive houses, its tall spires and towering mill stacks,
vieing with each other in their efforts to pierce the
clouds. The frosty air would soon make an inactive
person suffer from cold. You are at the oars. I keep
up a circulation by constantly working the sculling oar,
while Don, poor dog, his teeth chattering mutely ap-
peals to us for warmth. We cover him with an old coat.
As he snoozes his cold nose into the dry hay and gently
wags his tail, he conveys to us his silent but expressive
thanks.

The rapid current keeps us on our journey, and soon
we pass beneath the railroad bridge, and are wending our
way through this vast swamp, this renowned marsh,—
the Meredosia bottoms. All round us the low, flat
marsh revelsin monotony. In any and every direction
we behold a deep darkness, the earth and sky seeming to
meet as one. In the murky gloaming we thread narrow
channels, through flags and rice, our only guide being
the lighter appearance of the water which we follow.
It is well I know this marsh, for in this darkness all is
the same in appearance. We will stop here, for in the
early dawn this place is a passing point where ducks of
all kinds fly over, going to and from their feeding

THE MARSH. 27

grounds ; they fly aimlessly enjoying their morning ex-
ercise, or investigating the surroundings to find a suit-
able place tospend the day. We are early on the ground,
and it will be a fullhalf-hour before we can see to shoot.
Sit still, and I will force the boat into these rushes, so
we can both face the east. We must do this, for the
first light appears in that direction and we can faintly see
ducks coming from the east when we could not see them
coming from any other point of the compass. Perhaps
you think we have come in a good way, and are far from
the Mississippi River. Only about a mile, taking a
straight line; but by the tortuous way we came it is much
farther. You don’t know much of this place, do you?
Well, in this marsh there has been thrown into the air
tons and tons of lead ; there isno place in the West where
more ducks have been shot. This locality is a great place
for point and decoy shooting, being in the line of flight as
they go and return toand from the Mississippi and W ap-
sipinicon rivers. I never have been surprised to find
plenty ducks here, for itis the place that nature intended
for them. In this marsh they get wildrice, bulbous roots,
and flags, A flight of a mile brings them to the Missis-
sippi, where they regale themselves on buds, larvee, smart-
weed, and roost and bask in the sunshine, and lunch off
the gravel on the sandbars. Surrounding this spot, with-
in a half-hour’s flight, corn-fields are found in abundance ;
while southwest from here, about seven miles, mallards
go after acorns, where the Wapsipinicon rushes along,
overflowing its banks, affording the finest timber shoot-
ing in the world.

Did you hear that whizzing noise just now? it was a
flock of blue-bills passing. They are very early risers.
Now they have commenced to fly we must look sharp,

128 WILD FOWL SHOOTING

Don’t wait for me, but when you catch a glimpse of
any, shoot quick; there is more luck than skill in this
dim light. After you have shot, never mind the result,
Don will watch for that ; for you cannot see whether
or not you have hit. If you are successful you can
hear them,—splendid!) You did that nicely. You got
two down, I heard them strike the water. I was just
going to shoot, but you were too quick for me. No,
no. Don! le down. You can’t go this time. We
will not have you go now, and then return clambering
into the boat, splashing mud all over us. Never fear,
we will get them later. They fell in the grass, and if
crippled will lie low, while if dead, we will find them,
or rather Don will. We have along day before us, and
don’t want the hay wet on the start. Look off to the
east. See! day is breaking, and the flight will soon
begin. Mark! right before you. You take the head one
and I will take the other. Well! well! That was
simply slaughter; too easy, wasn’t 1t? They never
knew what struck them. <A pair of pin-tails. How do
I know so in the twilight? Now that’s a nice question
to ask an experienced duck-hunter. Why, my dear
friend, I know a duck by its flight, its shape, its speed,
its circling, its pitching,—know them at a distance, the
same as you know a man a great way off by some
peculiarity in his gait. See! The sun is rising! Very
soon his round, red face will stare in wonderment at
us. Hear the wind, how gently it sighs through the
rice stalks. And there, ahead of us, see on the water
the reflection from the sky. Isn’t it beautiful! The
water resting so placidly while the deep red, the orange,
the greenish tinge, as it joins the pale yellow, gives to
the water a marbleized appearance, polished to the high-

‘SAOD30 YSAO HSYVW SHI NI

a a. na ;
‘ x
Pee ae ee

3 it)

IN THE MARSH. 129

est degree. Away down in front of us, watch that big
flock of mallards ; they circle and sail, undecided where
to alight. It does seem that—whew ! That was a close
call. He didn’t miss my head two feet, and he was
going fully a hundred and fifty miles an hour. If he
had struck me, you would have had a green-winged
teal, and I would have been laid up forrepairs. It has
always seemed strange to me that more hunters don’t
get hit with low flying ducks, when the light is dim.
I once knew of a friend being knocked senseless by a
falling duck, and one time in Western Iowa I had a
narrow escape myself. But the worse scare I ever had
was when shooting geese in Dakota. A twelve pound-
er just missed my head. Hello! Just look at them
down there; by Willow Island. Some hunter has
routed them out. Keep quiet, there they come. Don’t
shoot! Don’t shoot! See how they turn to my eall.
Watch sharp! Hold two feet ahead of that drake, and
let him have it. Good shot! But then you ought to
have killed the duck. I got my pair. The trouble was
you shot too quick and got behind her. One of mine
is crippled; shoot him again. What? Missed him on
the water? Try him again. Well, I declare if you
haven’t missed again. Try it once more, and hold at the
line of his body where it touches the water. There,
that’s more like it; you have filled him full. It is not
surprising that you missed him twice, for you shot over
him. I could see where your shot struck the water.
Oh, I don’t doubt but that you held on the duck ;
that’s just where you were in error. Instead of holding
on you should have held under. The tendency with a
shot-gun at a stationary mark is always to over-shoot.
One instinctively pulls with a slight jerk, and the
9

150 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

muzzle flies up at the moment of firing. To obviate
that you should hold low ; besides, as you are usually
but slightly higher than the object shot at, the shot
striking between you and the duck, will glance on the
water, losing but little, if any, ofits force ; these same
shots are often the ones that kill the bird. Here comes
more of them, and for a few minutes you and I are
kept busy. Then there comes a lull in the flight, and
feeling assured that we will only get occasional shots,
we send the dog through the wild rice after the dead
and crippled, while we pick up those lying dead in the
open water. You noticed how the dog, a few moments
ago, passed two dead ones and started after a cripple ?
Some hunters claim dogs should be trained that way.
It isn’t necessary ; their natural instinct prompts them
to do this. The fluttering, moving duck, filled with
life, trying its utmost to escape, flapping its wings
against the water, maybe uttering frightened quacks,
attracts the dog’s attention, and he hastens after the es-
eaping bird. Of course, as time adds knowledge and
experience toa dog’s hunting education, he sees the
necessity of first catching cripples; but a young dog
will also do it, because he loves the excitement of the
chase.

While we have been picking up these birds, I noticed
about half a mile east of us, ducks dropping into some
spot. There are others there feedingand enticing them
down. We will go there and place our decoys. The
day is pleasant, with wind blowing freshly from the
south,—possibly it is not to your liking, and you recall
stories of stormy days, northwest winds, lowering and
threatening clouds ; you look around for the screeching
gulls, harbingers of violent winds, for then you feel

IN THE MARSH Si

you will surely get good shooting. This is the impres-
sion fixed on the mind of every young hunter. If the
reader has that thought, and seriously believes it, ask
an experienced duck-hunter if he don’t usually have
good shooting on warm, calm days. The only advantage
on blustering days is, that birds flying against the wind
fly slower and lower. My experience has been that some
of the finest shooting may be had on the warmest,
calmest days. One September afternoon, three years
ago, I had as good shooting as one could wish for. The
day was simply delightful, no wind and very warm.
This was only one of many days of the same kind that
I have experienced. The day I like for ducks is the
day they are in their feeding grounds, and then it makes
no particular difference whether the wind blows mild-
ly or strong, whether the day is warm or cold.

Never mind! Don’t shoot unless you are sure of
killing. They have been feeding here, and will come
back much sooner, and present better shots, if we don’t
frighten them by shooting. Nice place here for them,
isn’t it? Plenty of rice, and far enough from shore,
so “stalkers and hoosiers” can’t sneak them. This
pond must be fully one hundred yards long; that is,
counting the little neck where you see so many dried
pond lilies, and at least sixty yards wide. I will push
the boat out so you can place the decoys where we want
them. Take that smallest sack first, of red-heads.
Throw them out in the open water; they have weights
on, and will come right side up. Don’t be afraid to
stand up, the boat won’t upset or rock. I have hunted
too much to have a cranky boat. Years ago I shot
quickly from a cranky boat; didn’t hurt the boat
any, but I went out backward, head first, into water

152 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

cold as ice. Since then my boats are built for safety,
not speed. Now just waita bit, we don’t want the blue-
bill decoys too near these ; they are on the best of terms,
blue-bills and red-heads ; still we will keep them apart
this morning. That's it! Throw about half a dozen
blue-bills together, then string the balance on the outer
edge. They area prying lot, and you will always note
a few stragglers outside the main bunch. These mal-
lards want to go close to the edge of the rice, just far
enough out to be noticeable. You will remember they
like to alight right in the edges of the rice. Now take
a look. Nice lot, aren’t they? Twelve red-heads,
eighteen blue-bills and ten mallards. How surprised
some hunter would be if he should come punting
through here and suddenly see them. ‘Tell the differ-
ence? Not much, he couldn’t! Because he would be
expecting to see ducks in such a place as this. The
best of hunters get fooled at times; only last week, I
filled one of these same decoys with shot, mistaking it
for a crippled duck that fell where it was. Every hunter
can recall instances and laughable mistakes made in
shooting at decoys, and very few of us have avoided
being caught. Never mind. Sit still and I will push
the boat into those tall rushes, just behind that muskrat
house. Now take the oars, pull down those tallest
rushes, by bending them with the oar, and they will
shield the boat, making an excellent blind. We will
let Don retrieve those falling in the rushes, but let
those lie that drop in open water. Whenever the dog
retrieves, help him up on the bow; he understands that
is his place when retrieving. He won’t shake himself,
has got too much sense for that.

Have plenty of shells handy, and here, take these,

IN THE MARSH. 11545

some eights, for cripples. There is a curious thing con-
nected with duck shooting. Hunters in flight-shooting
use 4’s 5’s and 6’s; over decoys, 5's, 6’sand7’s. They
shoot a duck thirty-five yards over decoys with 5’s or
6’s, cripple it; the duck swims off, is fully forty yards
away before they are ready to shoot it; then they let
drive a charge of 8’s, and although the duck is half
buried under the water, it is killed instantly. Here is
a problem to solve. If one can kill a duck swimming
from him at thirty-five and forty yards, merely the top
of its head and back exposed to view, using No. 8 shot,
ean he not kill one flying at the same distance with the
same sized shot, when it presents a target eight to ten
times as large, with all its vital parts exposed? Most
assuredly he can. You admit it, so do I; and yet,
when we start out duck shooting, knowing we will
shoot over decoys, we will have ten shells loaded with
other sizes where we have one with No. 8’s. Since we
arrived here and began placing out our decoys, and ar-
ranging our blind, numerous flocks and pairs have
started to come in, then sheered away, because they
saw us. ‘This is almost invariably the case. Don’t
feel discouraged at this, because the hunter should take
his time and make all preparations to suit. Discretion
and judgment must be used in the selection of a stand,
the setting out of the decoys and the building of the
blind. Perhaps you think I am doing a good deal of
talking and we are not bagging many birds. Remem-
ber what I am telling you, for some day you will be out
and not having me, or some other experienced person
along, these hints and instructions will then be of far
more benefit to you than if you bagged one hundred
birds to-day. Mark, south! Red-heads! The wind is

134 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

helping them along. They see the decoys. Let them
pass, I will cluck and they will return and alight against
the wind. Here they come! Give it to them! Six
down! Shoot that cripple quick. That’s it. And
you were none too soon either. He only straightened
up to see where the danger lay, and if you had let him
dive once we would have lost him, as he would have
gone clean over to the rushes, and then would have
been safe. Here comes a single one. Hold well ahead
and under; his wings are set, and he is coming down
quite fast. See how dead you can kill him. Didn't
kill him very dead, did you, with the first barrel? You
overshot it, but then your second barrel redeemed you.
It is a Gadwell or gray duck. It took two shells, but
if you can bag a duck using two shells on an average,
you are a good duck shot. It can be done over decoys,
but in no other way. Bless me! I came near missing
it, shot a trifle behind; it wasn’t over twenty yards
from us. I saw Don’s eyes sparkling, and, following the
direction he was looking, I saw a pair of red feet right
over the water, a young mallard drake. Many and
many a duck have I shot in this manner, my attention
being called to it by the glistening eyes of my dog, or
his chattering teeth, as he tries to restrain his nervous
excitement. An old duck dog as anxiously notes the
approach of game as does his master. Here comes a
flock of pin-tails. Now forfun! Don’t move and I will
see if they can be calleddown. See! They notice the
decoys, hear my whistle, and look at them come down,
like fluttering leaves. They must have been fully
eighty yards up when I first called them. Don’t they
come with a rush? Shoot just as they are over the
water; fire where two or more are together. Hurrah!

IN THE MARSH. 135

We made sad havoc with them, didn’t we? Eight
down, with four barrels. Iam not surprised at your
missing with your second barrel, for you weren't watch-
ing for them to jump quite so high after they received
the contents of our first barrels. Did you notice how
they jumped perpendicularly? They went straight up
fully thirty feet, and you undershot the second time.
Bear it in mind hereafter, and as soon as you fire the
first barrel, look high before shooting again, for they
invariably rise vertically when shotat. Mark! A pair
of canvas-backs. How do I know at this distance? By
their steady flight, their long necks, their short bodies.
They will come in to our red-head decoys. Don’t wait
for them to light, give them a chance for their lives;
that is, if shooting at them at thirty-five yards isa
chance. You take the drake and I willhis mate. Now
is your time! Pshaw! Pure carelessness! I ought
to have killed her with either barrel. When I shot
first I didn’t gauge her speed; then the second barrel
was fired hastily, and without properly judging flight.
Look! Look at her wabble and teeter,—hit hard after
all! See how hard she tries to keep up! Will she
make it? Yes? No! Down she goes, stone dead, the
shot having penetrated a vital part. We will find her
all right, as she fell in that big open water. Yes,
yes! I see those six mallards. They will come all
right. The two that are about fifty yards in advance
will call the others in. Keep low. Here’s a drake
swinging right in to us. Knock him! Well’ You
are a nice fellow. Why didn't you shoot? I supposed
of course you would, and I followed him, and waited
and waited for you. Lucky thing I was ready and
killed him. What was the matter? Duck fever?

136 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Thought the others would come in? Perhaps they
would and perhaps they weuldn’t. I have waited a
good many times myself, refraining to shoot, expecting
a better shot, and getting none at all, and experience
has taught me that in the long run the best way is to
kill a duck when it gets within thirty to thirty-five
yards, no matter what you may see in expectation.
Of course it would have been very nice to have waited
and killed three out of the four; but suppose they hadn’t
come? Would have felt pretty cheap, wouldn’t we ?
But here it is noon; we will go over on that ridge,
make some coffee, and have lunch.” We go, leaving
our decoys in the water.

Soon coffee is made, and sitting on our rubber coats
we are enjoying ourselves, as only hungry hunters can.
As you face the nortn, I notice you gaze idly on
those hills so near us, then turn your eyes indifferently
away. Nothing particularily interesting about them,
is there? Simply bluffs, grass and scraggy trees,—an
elevated point overlooking the surrounding country.
You see this, and your curiosity is satisfied, your in-
terest dies out. Let me tell you a little about those
hills, where the cattle are so peaceably grazing to-day.
Some years ago, they were the rendezvous of the most
desperate gang of horse-thieves and murderers that
ever infested the West. It was from this vicinity they
sallied forth, bent on rapine and murder. It is only
thirty miles below here where they murdered old man
Davenport in his own house. On these hill-tops, as late
as 1832, the Sac and Fox Indians held their councils of
war; here, where from their elevated positions, they
could command a view up and down the broad Miss-
issippi River. It was on those bluffs that Black Hawk,

IN THE MARSH. 137

one of the most celebrated Indian warriors that ever
lived, with fiery eloquence and impassioned speech, be-
sought his tribe to fight, and die, in the land of their
fathers, rather than give up this sacred territory to the
invading and encroaching whites. It was through this
valley that he and his horde of savages marched time
and again on the war path. It was on those hill-tops
that beacon fires were lighted at times, signals and re-
ports to their neighbors, the Iowas, across the river.
You didn’t know there was quite so much of history
and romance connected with those hills, did you? Those
mounds you notice on the hills, looking like hay-cocks,
only so much larger, were made by the Mound-builders,
a race of Indians in ages past. The mounds have been
disemboweled of late years, and their contents were
found to be stone arrows, spears, knives, hammers, and
implements of ancient warfare. These mounds were
the graves of warriors buried generations ago, and
their arms were deposited at their sides,—weapons to
protect them from Evil spirits on their journey to the
Happy Hunting Grounds, showing conclusively that
those hills were occupied by aborigines ages ago.

Well, from the amount you have eaien, no danger of
starvation on your part for some time. It is now one
o'clock, and as the flight is good to-day, we won't hurry
back to the decoys. Light your cigar. What! Got
a briar-wood pipe? Now that’s sensible. No place for
style in the marsh,—comfort and convenience are what
we want here. You think it is well to rest during mid-
day, because there is no flight? That’s where you are
grossly wrong. From early infancy it has been dinged
at me, instilled into my mind, that the time to shoot
ducks was early morning and from about sun-down to

158 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

dark. Every young hunter has the same text to learn
from. Those times are good for ducks, but only in
flight shooting, or when they come in to feed or roost,
and the best continuous shooting I ever had has been
in the middle of the day from ten in the morning until
four in the afternoon. But mind, a knowledge of
where they resort at such times must be had by the
successful midday hunter, and they should be shot over
decoys. At such times, look for them in rice beds,
smart-weed, willow flashes, or in overflowed timber.
At times one will rout them out accidentally. His judg-
ment will tell him whether or not they will return.
They will come back if they have been enjoying them-
selves feeding in some quiet, secluded retreat, and will
feel comparatively safe. The proper way to find their
midday retreat is, go where you think they may be
found, don’t be in a hurry to start out, but first decide
where you intend going. Station yourself on some
elevated place, and for half an hour watch every duck
until it passes out of sight. If you do not see them
light, depend on it you are at the wrong place, so move
on. If you see cne light, perhaps a pair, possibly a
flock, then carefully watch every bird that takes that
direction, and if you notice they keep dropping in, you
have found their feeding ground. Go there at once,
rout them out quietly as possible,—better not shoot
then, but set out your decoys, build your blind, and you
will get splendid shooting, as they will string back
singly, in pairs, and in small flocks. My memory is
fresh with the recollection of frequent incidents of this
kind, when I have half filled my duck-boat with mal-
lards, when at the same time, inexperienced hunters
were splashing around through the mud, wasting ammu-

IN THE MARSH. 159

nition at travellers and mud-hens, and finally going
home disgusted, carrying the report that there weren’t
but few ducks, and what were flying, flew so high one
couldn’t reach them with any shot-gun.

“Within the last half-hour I have noticed at least
twenty different lots, mostly mallards, drop into some
place off at our right. We will pick up our decoys
and go down there. I know the spot well, and we will
get some good shooting. Don’t you know it’s every-
thing to hunt ducks successfully, to know the lay of
the land? If you ever go to a strange place to shoot,
expecting to stay two or three days, by all means put
in the first half day prowling around getting acquaint-
ed with the country; it will pay you todoso. I will
hold the boat steady, and you pick up the decoys. AlI-
ways propel the boat against the wind when picking up
decoys, then you have no difficulty; whereas, if you
come down the wind the boat will drift past some, and
you will have extra trouble and labor in gathering them.
Pretty cold work, isn’t it? Yes, itis. But it has to be
done, and must be done bare-handed. On a day like
this it’s all right, but take a day when the thermometer
registers zero or below, and I can assure you there is
no pleasure in picking them up. No! no! don’t wrap
the cords around their necks like that,—it takes too
long. Hand it to me, and I will show you how. See,
commence wrapping at the right side of the breast,
then bring the cord over the back and under the tail;
now wrap from under the tail over the back again to
the left of the breast. Keep this up till you have about
a foot of cord left. Twist that azound the neck, and
your decoy is ready to put away. Notice the body is
oval in shape and wraps easily. Now try it yourself.

140 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

That’s right, you have got the hang of it. Just lay them
on the bow, as we will want to set them out in the place
we are going to. Don’t move! Don’t move! Ha! ha!
got fooled, didn’t she? A widgeon. She saw the de-
coys, saw us, still her curiosity got the better of her,
and although she was fully sixty yards when I fired she
was killed sure. It’s surprising what long shots one
will make at times. About two weeks ago I killed
a mallard off fully sixty yards. My partner smiled at
the shot ; just then another came over, I should think
seventy yards high. I killed that. It flashed on me
that I had on my shooting clothes, and that it was sure
death for one to come near me. Just at that instant a
mallard swooped down and passed me, going like the
wind. She wasn’t more than thirty feet from me, and
was missed clean, with both barrels. Such is every
duck-shooter’s experience. Pick up that last decoy,
and while you are wrapping it, I will “ pike ” down to-
ward our destined place. ‘ Pike,” you will remember
is the local saying for “scull.” Seat yourself com-
fortably on the bottom in the hay, get your gun in
readiness, for as we go down through this tangled rice
we will surely get a shot; even now we are so far in,
that I wouldn’t be surprised if at any moment a pair of
mallards would jump—splendid! That was as neat and
pretty a double as you ever made, but you shot awfully
quick. No use being in a hurry on those close shots.
You had lots of time, for they always rise straight up
over the rushes ten to thirty feet before flying off.
Pick them up by the bill or head and shake off the
water before throwing them in the boat. Handsome
pair, aren't they? So dissimilar in looks, too. The
drake gorgeous in his green, purple and white; the

IN THE MARSH. 141

duck so subdued in comparison, when her mottled yel.
low and brown rests side by side with her noble mate.
Just look at them dropping in down there! We are go-
ing to have a great time with them. The water isn’t
deep here, but mud? Anywhere from two to ten feet.
There is a bird you don’t see often. See him? Basking
in the sunshine on that old muskrat house,—a male
Summer duck. What a beauty he is! In my opinion
the handsomest bird that visits the North. He sees us
now. Watch him how undecided he is; look how the
colors seem to shine resplendently as the sunshine
strikes them. What are you doing? No, you don’t!
Drop that gun. There are ducks enough to shoot with-
out molesting him. Away he goes, little knowing his
narrow escape. Don’t feel hurt that I didn’t allow you
to shoot; by not doing so you conferred a personal
favor onme Oh, what's the use looking so inquisi-
tively at me? If you want to know why I spared its life
my only reason is a tender love for the bird. They are
so inexpressibly beautiful, so affectionate, their gor-
seous plumage always seems to me to light up the dull
marsh with such surprising beauty, that I just haven't
the heart to shoot them. Do you think me effeminate ?
I hope not.

We are getting among them now, they rise from the
marsh in countless numbers,—what a sight! All kinds
and sizes; the deep sullen roar of their wings their
loud quacking, the sight of so many so near, just out
of gun range, fill us both with thrilling, anxious expec-
tation. It doesn’t take long until we are in their re-
treat, set out the decoys, fix the blind, and are making
sad havoc with them. At times, they come with great
frequency and regularity. This is easily accounted

142 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

for; there are some constantly in the air, those com-
ing first set their wings, coming in to the decoys ; some-
where in sight of these, but unseen by us, are others,
perhaps a mile off. They see their kind circling
around or alighting, and go where they are; others see
these and do the same. Thus while we see but few
coming in, several different lots are approaching us at
different distances, from various points. This is how
it happens that one often kills anywhere from 6 to 15
birds, almost as fast as he can load and shoot. But
why dwell on what we do for the next few hours?
We have found their retreat, they come in from all
directions, not sufficiently fast to heat one’s gun, but
with enough regularity to make it interesting, and not
tedious by long waits between shots. We enjoy the
sport, enjoy seeing one another make difficult shots,
enjoy the keen air, the cool November day. As you
look at your watch a surprised look is seen on your
face, and much to your astonishment it is six o’clock.
Faintly we hear the whistles sounding that hour in the
adjacent towns. Do not let the excitement of the
evening flight cause you to forget the absolute neces-
sity of taking your bearings inthe marsh,for when the
shades of night settle on the swamp, you will be lost
for the time being, and your lack of forethought may
force you to pass the night in your boat. Mark the
way you came in by some tall tree, or bluffs, that you
know in the darkness will loom up against the sky, or
any other way that you can depend on. Ifinastrange
marsh, or in unknown woods, don’t take any chances ;
for unless you have experienced it, you can form no
accurate idea of the perfect blank your whole sur-
roundings will present. Better lose the late shooting

IN THE MARSH. 143

than take any such chances ; besides, if you expect to
shoot in the same spot the following day, it is much
better to depart before dark and allow the birds to settle
there in the twilight undisturbed for the night, they
will decoy much better on the morrow. If you stay
until pitch dark, the flames from your gun frighten
them much more than any reports they hear during
daylight. In the daytime they expect it, but when
night comes, and once they are driven from their
roost, they avoid that spot in the future.

Where we are now is perfectly familiar to me, and
we will stay till dark. We will gather up the decoys
now, for soon darkness wil! be on us, and we cannot
do it then; besides, decoys in the faint light do but
little good. When ducks come in in the twilight,
they come to spend the night, never dream of danger,
and swoop in with a swish that shows their fearless-
ness. Come, now that we have picked the decoys up,
we will cross over and stay until dark, on the east edge
of the rice, facing the west; because the reflection of
the setting sun on the sky brings the birds plainer to
view. Look to the west! See how bright the sky is;
how beautiful after the setting of the sun! Notice
those tiny clouds. From here they seem but a trifling
height above the horizon, their under edges touched
with crimson and gold, their centre of lavender and
black, while their tips seem of crustated whiteness.
Turn around now, look to the east, and see the con-
trast. No bright colors, no brilliant contrasts ; simply
one gray, dull, and lifeless pall overspreading the earth.
For a few moments we are kept busy firing at the
incoming ducks, each striving to dropthem into the
open water. They come in from all points of the com-

144 WILD FOWL SUOOTING.

pass in perfect recklessness, the ‘‘ whewing ” of their
set: wings vibrating through the air. No need of blinds
now, no opportunity for calculating shots; but we see
a dark meteor shoot hastily by, fire quickly, then listen
for the expected splash we know the duck will make
as it strikes the water. Unexpectedly one drops into
the water within ten feet of us. We dare not shoot,
knowing, if hit, the bird would be blown to pieces. We
splash the water, still unseen and unobserved by the
duck; then we speak. At the sound of human voices
we see the water slightly ripple as the duck rises, a
dark shadow for an instant, and the bird seems to dis-
solve in the darkness. As we pick our way through
the swamp you recognize your helplessness in this dark,
strange place. But guided and directed by our never-
failing friend—the North Star—we emerge after an
hour’s hard and patient work on the Mississippi River.
We cross over to Camanche, from there take the
steamer for home, tired, hungry, and happy, well pleased
with our day’s sport, and mentally deciding whoamong

our friends will be favored when we make a division
of our 112 ducks.

SHOVELER, OR SPOONBILL. 1.45

CHAPTER XII.
SHOVELER, OR SPOONBILL.

Tue Shoveler or Spoonbill duck is a frequenter of
almost all Western waters. They are a queer-looking
bird, and once seen will not be readily forgotten. Their
bill is a peculiar one, being like some streams, both
broad and deep, and appears like an abnormal develop-
ment added to their otherwise pretty shape. That
nature has aided them with a bill different in its forma-
tion from any other is apparent, but the wherefore is
beyond my comprehension. Possibly, the sins of their
parents have been visited upon them, and those we
have among us are of the third, may be, of the fourth
generation, and they are compelled to suffer by reason
of the sins committed by their ancestors. Ifso, Nature
has certainly prepared them to shovel their way through,
for she has given them a bill spoon-shaped, with which
they can dig, shovel or scoop as they desire. Iremem-
ber the first one I saw. It was a female. After it was
shot, the dog retrieved it. I thought it was a young
mallard, and casting an astonished look at it, my tender
heart softened and I wondered how this young mallard
had flattened out her bill ; but my experienced com-
panion soon set me right, when he told me it was a
shoveler ; that the bird was worthy and deserving of
the name was unquestionable. Its great bill proclaimed

it with silent eloquence. This then, was the plebeian of
19

146 WILD FOWL SUOOTING,

the duck tribe, a tiller of the soil, a granger ; and uature
had furnished it with never-failing tools. The little teal,
with its fire-shovel of a bill ; the canvas-back with its
spade ; the mallard with its common shovels; were all
insignificant in the rice beds, when compared to the
scoop-shovel of the spoonbill, or shoveler. When it
comes to digging in the mud, it is the section boss of
the swamps, and all the rest of the ducks swim or
waddle to one side when one of these little fellows gets
his every day clothes on, and scoops and shovels among
the roots and tender grass. They recognize him as an
artist in this line, and accord him a fair field, but no
favor. He has no competitors for speed and displace-
ment of soil, for they all know full well, that they are
mere infants with wooden spoons compared with him,
when he brings into active operations that post-borer
of a bill, propelled by such expert motive power.

The shoveler duck frequents marshy places, and is
readily decoyed and easily killed. Their flight is swift,
usually huddled together, and many may be killed at
one discharge of the gun. When frightened, they
spring from the marsh perpendicularly like the pin-
tail. No. 6 or T shot are the proper size to use.

Anas Clypeata. The Blue-winged Shoveler is twenty
inches long, and two feet six inches inextent. The bill
is brownish black, three inches in length, greatly wid-
ened near the extremity, closely pectinated on the
sides, and furnished with a nail on the tip of each
mandible ; irides, bright orange ; tongue, large and
fleshy ; the inside of the upper and the outside of the

SHOVELER, Ok SPOONBILL. TAT

lower mandible are grooved so as to receive distinctly
the long separated reed-like teeth; there is also a
gibbosity in the two mandibles which do hot meet at
the sides, and this vacuity is occupied by the sifters
just mentioned. Head and upper half of the neck
glossy, changeable green ; rest of the neck and breast
white, passing around and nearly meeting above ; whole
belly, dark reddish chestnut ; flanks a brownish yellow,
penciled transversely with black, between which and the
vent, which is black and white, is a band of white ; back
blackish brown ; exterior edge of the scapulars white ;
lesser wing coverts and some of the tertials, a fine light
sky-blue ; beauty spot on the wing a changeable, re-
splendent, bronze green, bordered above by a band of
white, and below another of velvety black: rest of the
wing, dusky; some of the tertials streaked down their
middles with white ; tail dusky, pointed, broadly edged
with white ; legs and feet, reddish orange : hind toe
not finned.

The female has a crown of dusky brown: rest of the
head and neck, yellowish white, thickly spotted with
dark brown ; these spots on the breast become larger
and crescent shaped. Back and scapulars dark brown ;
edged and centered with yellow ochre; belly, slightly
rufous, mixed with white ; wings nearly as in the male.

BLUE-BILL. 149

CHAPTER XIII.
BLUE-BILL (SCAUP-DUCK, BLACK-DUCK, BROAD-BILL. )

Tue Blue-bill, or Scaup-duck, is well known through-
out the Western States. Locally it is known as the
blue-bill, a name which explains itself; its bill being
a light blue, and a conspicuous marking of the bird. It
is sometimes, and not infrequently, designated as the
“ black-head,” a name given it because of its round,
black head. The name scaup-duck is used but little,
if at all, inthe West, notwithstanding the fact that their
first and best known name was “scaup-duck.” This
hame was accorded them because of their propensity
and fondness for scaups, or snails, and broken shells
found along the sea-shore. On inland waters they are
deprived to a great extent of these delicacies to aid di-
gestion, but find a few along the shores of lakes and
rivers. In the We-. ~> cannot see that they suffer for
want of these harsh substances, with which their craws
are filled, for they substitute gravel and sand enough to
fill any void that could be found in their stomachs.
Their food consists of acorns, buds, wild rice, corn,
and such other food as mallard and other ducks feed on.
They are essentially open-water ducks, and like to sit
in open and broad water, where they can rest in ap-
parent security from the intrusion of prowling hunters
along the shore. In their habits in this respect they
are similar to canvas-back and red-head, although they

150 WILD FOWL SIIOOTING.

are entirely lacking in the shrewdness and caution
displayed in the canvas-back and so frequently in the
red-head. The blue-bills are the little salts of the
open streams. Tough and hardy, loving rough and in-
clement weather, they are found in the most turbulent
weather floating on the crested waves, bobbing up and
down with each swell, looking like big black corks, so
far out are they in the open water. They are restless
little fellows, and often fly without any definite idea of
what they are flying for, or where they are going to.
They simply like to be on the move, seemingly self-
appointed committees of investigation whose duties are
be on the go continuously. This is especially noticeable
on stormy days, or when the wind blows strong and
raw. On bright, warm, still days, when the sun beats
mildly on the calm water, the prevailing-spirit of in-
dolence, so catching to human life, is contagious with
them, and they float idly on the surface of the open
lake, or are carried down by the swift flowing current
of some rapid river, huddled closely together ina black,
blue, and white mass of soft feathers, with their heads.
hugging their breasts with quiet contentment.

IT have seen them this way in the open Mississippi,
carried along with the current, first approaching, then
receding from the river bank, as the changing current.
would swerve and turnfrom sand bars and ice. On, on,
they would float, until time and tide would bring them
near the habitation of man. They would see the houses
along the shores, hear the busy hum of life and activity,
the buzzing and rumbling of mills,—and away they go,
flying up stream for miles, then quickly drop into the
centre of the river, and float down as before. These
manoeuvres are common in the spring, just as the ice

BLUE- BILL. 151

breaks up and floats down the river. The ice parts from
the bank, and stretches into black and white cakes from
shore to shore; it rubs together, clashes and crumbles,
piles over and surges under, forming ice-floes of every
conceivable size, description and shape. Then it is
they are enjoying themselves the most, and, clambering
into one of these floes, in immense droves or flocks they
will float down the river in indolence, taking things easy,
while receding banks and trees form a panorama that
seems very enjoyable to them. Then it is that the
hunter standing near an inland pond, or secreted in some
well protected blind, wonders what has become of all the
ducks, and plays with his gun or consoles his dog, with
the assurance that it willsoon be four o’clock, and then
the evening flight will surely begin. At this same time
the hunter in the scull-boat is helping himself to the
cream of the day. By steathily propelling his scull
through floating ice, with his boat loaded with ice, re-
sembling an ice cake, he guides it lithely, stealthily, and
ina serpentine manner through narrow channels of great
cakes of floating ice, and kills duck after duck. While
they enjoy this floating down the river, it is simply a
diversion from the more laborious, yet necessary part of
their existence, viz. : earning a living. In the wide, deep
river they find nothing to eat, neither do they try. They
simply come here to have a picnic and doze the time
away. After enjoying their fun, they settle down to
business, and repair to the ponds, little lakes and shores,
there satisfying their sharp appetites. Thenis the time
to shoot them over decoys, and decoys in profusion
should be used, —the more the better, as the water will
be from three to ten feet deep. Wooden decoys must
be used. They should be placed in the open, plainly

1S WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

in sight, and if the stream is narrow, say seventy-five
yards, set your decoys well away from you, that the
birds may light between you and them. Make your-
self a blind. Be sure it is not so high as to interfere
with your shooting. Of course this suggestion applies
only where one is shooting among brush or trees. It
is not necessary to build a dense blind, impenetrable,
but just make one that will protect you fairly well, and
then refrain from moving. That is the secret in get-
ting them to come. If one stands still, a very small
blind will do, as their eyes are wholly occupied in look-
ing at the decoys, and they are bent in getting there as
quickly as possible. But if you move, your lack of
caution is very apt to deprive you of a shot. No non-
sense with them; life is too short to be spent in sail-
ing around, investigating and inquiring, whether or
not all things are right; so they come for the decoys
low over the water, like a flash, steadily and quickly,
and almost before you know what is up, and often be-
fore you can catch aim on one, their feet are extended
like open palms of the hand and they slide into the
water, plowing it ahead of them in tiny waves, almost
at your feet. Watchsharp! For they are apt toleave
you without ceremony, and as quickly as they came,
for those keen eyes you see through your blind have a
suspicious sparkle in them. Aha! Away they go!
Look at them, every fellow for himself. That’s the
way they start out, and see how soon they get under
full speed. They are about as quick as any bird that
flies ; besides, they are hard to hit, and hate awfully to
die when they are hit. They are expert divers, and
when one is crippled, it should be shot at once. I
candidly believe they will stand more punishment than

BLUE-BILL. 153

any other duck. They like to alight up-wind, and
always do so. Should they come down-wind, they will
come with speed almost incredible, and with set wings
will pass swiftly by, and over the decoys, apparently
with no intention of returning. ‘This is simply a ruse
of theirs, for after flying perhaps seventy-five, possibly
two hundred, yards, they will whirl, and coming up-
wind, come low over the water and afford excellent
shots, right in easy killing distance. When they at-
tempt this flight, coming swift as an arrow past you
down-wind, don’t allow the temptation to get the better
of your judgment, and foolishly fire at them. Be calm,
and wait for their return. As they pass you, cluck at
them. This produces a sound similar to the bird in
feeding, and has an excellent effect on them, making
them less suspicious. Should your bump of self-esteem
be unusually well developed, and although an amateur
duck-shot, you have a local reputation as a trap-shot at
inanimate targets, try one of these single fellows, com-
ing with the strong wind, when from an elevation of
seventy-five yards he suddenly concludes to come down
and light among thedecoys. His height is too great to
make the descent at once,—he knows it, and forcing
himself to his greatest speed, he sets his wings, and
darts toward the water, then slightly curves his wings,
forming a deep, crescent-shaped bow, and fully forty
yards from you and thirty-five yards high you seek to
bring him down. No time for judging height, velocity,
or anything requiring thought, no matter how quickly
it can be made, for you see descending a short, plump
body of black, blue, slate and white, and like a shoot-
ing star he goes past, and you can almost imagine a
faint blue streak following him as he passes you. As

154 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

he flies by, dropping at an angle of about thirty degrees,
he presents the most difficult shot imaginable to make.
The twisting, writhing snipe isn’t to be compared to
him; you can wait on the snipe until it steadies its
flight, but the longer you wait on a blue-bill, the worse
you are off. On such a bird one must “let drive ”
quickly ; hold as near as you can guess about two feet
under, four feet ahead, and you may hit him. If you
don't, rest assured, he couldn’t be hit shooting in any
other way. Should you have the satisfaction of seeing
him double up, throw his head on his back, and dro}
like a chunk of lead, his dead body carried by the
inertia of his now still wings, following the same angle
he mapped out when alive, you can illuminate your
blind with your sweetest smile, pat your dog fondly,
and mark my word, if the dog is an old duck retriever,
you will plainly see in his honest eyes an expressive
feeling, showing he appreciates the shot. Don’t try
this shot too often, lest you fall from grace in the dog’s
estimation. I know of no way in which the conceit
will so quickly, so surely, be taken out of a man who
thinks he is a good shot, as to let him try a few of
these shots in the presence of an old duck-hunter.

As the birds begin to come into the decoys, they will
fly against the wind, fearlessly, but swiftly, then keep
cool, hold well ahead of them and always try to get one
with each barrel. If you are anxious for a big * bag,”
and don't care just how you make it, let them light
and get two or three in range for the first barrel, but
if you are out for recreation and fun, don’t let them
Hight, but just as they are about to light, with wings
fluttering and feet extended, coolly and quickly draw
aim about a foot ahead of some bright-eyed, black-

SCAUP-DUCK. 155

headed, blue-billed drake,—and see how dead you can
kill him; then swing your gun quickly, catch his mate,
and you will feel more pleased at these two birds killed
cleanly and prettily, than if you had killed half a dozen
sitting on the water.

Nos. 6, 7 or 8 is the proper size of shot. No. 6 in
flight, the other sizes over decoys.

SCAUP—DUCK.
(Fuligula Marila)
“ Blue Bill,” “ Black Head,” ‘* Broad Bill.”

Adult Male.—Bill as long as the head, broad at the
base, and large and flattened toward the end, which is
rounded; the frontal angles narrow and_ pointed.
Head of moderate size; eyes small; neck of moderate
length, rather thick; body comparatively short, com-
pact and depressed; wings small; feet very short,
strong, placed rather far behind; tarsus very short,
compressed ; plumage dense, soft, blended ; feathers of
the head and neck short and velvety, those of the hind
heada little elongated ; wings shortish, narrow, pointed ;
primary quills curved, strong, tapering, the first long-
est, second very little shorter, the rest rapidly gradu-
ated; secondary, broad and rounded, the inner elon-
gated and tapering; tail very short, much rounded, of
14 feathers; bill, light grayish blue; the ungins, black-
ish ; iris, yellow ; feet, grayish blue ; the webs and claws,
black ; the head, the whole neck and fore part of the
back and breast, black ; the head and neck glossed with
purple and green, the rest tinged with brown; hind

156 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

part of the back, rump, abdomen, and upper and lower
tail coverts brownish black ; middle of the back, scap-
ulars, inner secondaries, anterior part of abdomen and
sides, grayish white, beautifully marked with undulat-
ing black lines; middle of the breast white ; wings
light brownish gray; alula, primaries at the base and
end, and greater part of secondaries, brownish black ;
the speculum of the latter white ; length to end of tail
sixteen and a half inches; extent of wings twenty-
nine ; weight 1 lb. 6 ozs.

Adult Female——The female agrees with the male in
the characters of the plumage and in the colors of the
bare parts, but those of the former differ considerably.
The head, neck and fore parts of the back and breast
are umber brown; and there is a broad patch of white
along the fore part of the forehead ; the upper parts in
general are brownish black; the middle of the back
and scapulars, undulated with whitish dots and bars;
the primary quills are grayish in the middle, and the
speculum is white, but of less extent than in the male ;
the greater part of the breast and abdomen is white ;
the sides and parts under the tail umber brown.

Length sixteen and a half inches; extent of wings
28; weight 1 lb., 6 oz.

CANVAS-BACK DUCK.

THE CANVAS-BACK DUCK. 15

Sy

CHAP EER: Xv:
THE CANVAS-BACK DUCK.

THE Canvas-Back, while the best known of the nu-
merous varieties of duck in certain localities, in others
are comparatively strangers. In the East, in and around
Chesapeake Bay, they have been known from the ear-
liest recollection of the inhabitants. Their habits, their
feeding grounds, their places of resort, the various de-
vices and means to effect their capture, whether by
toling, the captor benefiting by the inquisitiveness of
the bird, the bringing them down in point shooting,
the shooting them over decoys, from sink boxes, killing
them from sailing boats, or the destructive way of
slaughtering them during the night by poachers with
enormous swivel guns, lashed to strong boats, burning
heavy charges of powder and hurling with murderous
effect the leaden hail into the sleeping ranks of the un-
suspecting birds, killing scores of them at one discharge
while the wounded escape in the darkness to die a lin-
gering death,—these methods are familiar to every
reader of sporting literature.

In the West they are not so well known and are
recognized as a rara avis when found along the Missis-
sippi. On the inland lakes and river of the West they
are frequently found, and goodly “bags” are made.
Excellent shooting is had at times in Ilinois, Iowa,
Nebraska and other western States. At and around

158 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Ruthven in Iowa, when one is there at the proper time,
it is nO uncommon occurrence for one gun to get from
20 to 40 in a morning or evening’s shooting. Once in
a while it seems, as if by accident, they are seen flying
up the Mississippi, or again, floating idly along with
the current.

When the Western duck hunter, through a generous
tate, is fortunate enough to enjoy one good day’s shoot-
ing of canvas-backs, he is apt to remember it for years,
if not during his whole life, for in the West, they are so
scarce that one successful hunt becomes so emblazoned
on our memory, that years cannot efface it, nor will
time tarnish the pleasant recollections, for as years
are added to our declining life, they seem to brighten
and make more splendid those days spent in shooting
canvas-backs. We cherish these memories, and love to
have our minds wander back, reverting with satisfac-
tion and delight, to the moments we sat hidden in our
boats, with numerous decoys scattered around us,
shooting the noblest wild fowl that ever spread wings,
as they come in their wedge-shaped column, fearlessly
over our decoys ; or, carried by their wonderful velocity,
light just on the edge of the decoys with feet extended
shoving small billows of seething foam, as they plow
through the water.

Their extreme cautiousness is shown when alighting
near decoys. They will come down wind like a rocket,
fly straight as an arrow past the decoys, as if not see-
ing them, and when perhaps 100 or 200 yards past
them, will suddenly whirl, and with a wide sweep,
circle and without hesitancy slide into the water just
out of gun shot. We see them look at the decoys as
is if in wonder and surprise ; then they grow inquisitive,

THE CANVAS-BACK DUCK. 159

swim to and fro, gradually approaching the decoys,
then they hesitate as if debating whether or not they
had better approach any nearer. The drakes are
exceedingly shy, but the ducks having their curiosity
aroused, it must be satisfied, and crowding ahead of
the timid males, assume the leadership, and the drakes
(poor fellows) are led into danger and death by femi-
nine curiosity. There is a moral in this, but fearing
the wrath of my lady friends, I forbear to mention it.

They are a handsome bird, either flying or sitting on
the water. As they fly along so swiftly, their long
necks stretched out, the sun shining on their dark chest-
nut heads, the strong light brings into distinct promi-
nence the changing colors of their necks and bodies,
and they show up conspicuously, their feathers so
prettily blending together, forming colors of deep-brown-
ish chestnut and lightish gray, often relieved by snowy
whiteness.

On the water they are equally pleasing to the eye
as we see them sitting in some broad open lake, far
from shore. Watching them unperceived we see them
floating on its surface, idly, or with extended necks
when the least alarmed,—their necks looking sadly
out of proportion to their plump, short bodies. Their
bills are made strong by nature, that they may forei-
bly tear asunder bulbs and roots from the deep bottom
of the lake. Near them at this time we often notice
the sly widgeon, constantly showing its thievish pro-
pensities. As the canvas-back appears on the surface,
the widgeon rushes quickly upon it and snatches from
it the sweet roots it dived so deeply to obtain.

The canvas-backs are frequently confounded with
red-heads, and I have witnessed discussions between

160 WILD FOWL SIIOOTING.

hunters who had certainly had experience enough not
to confound them. They are very similar, but the
similarity is more imaginary than real. The canvas-
back is larger, its head darker, and its bill a deep
black, while that of the red-head is deep blue or a
slatish color, Theshape of the bill of the canvas-back
is wedged and long; of the red-head moderately long
and concaved. These are simple distinctions to be re-
membered, and any hunter who fails to remember them
is injustifiably ignorant. They are very tenacious of life,
their bump of stubbornness being fully developed, and
they will dive long distances, and prefer death by any
other means than by human agency. When one is crip-
pled, it will usually look around for perhaps a second,
to see where the danger lies, then down it goes, and if
rushes or cover are near, it is good-bye to that duck,—it
will not be seen again. When one is crippled it should
be shot again, and at once.

They will only decoy where they are accustomed to
feed, or think there is food for them. At such places
they come in readily. Decoys of their own kind are best,
but red-head decoys are almost as good. To shoot
them from a blind, the hunter should be concealed near
where they are accustomed to feed, as far into the
water as possible from the edge of the shore. A low
boat discretely hidden in the rushes makes an excel-
lent blind, but it must be well hid, and as near the open
water as possible. The shooter requires a hard hitting
gun; a 10 ga. is the proper size, loaded with 5 dms.
powder, well wadded, and 1 1-8 0z. No. 4,5 or 6 chilled
shot, No. 4 being the best size. Being swift flyers,
the hunter should hold two feet further ahead than his
inclination prompts him to do.

THE CANVAS-BACK DUCK. 161

Anas Valeineria. Fuligula Valeineria.

Adult Male.—Bill black, the length about three
inches, and very high at the base; fore part of the
head and throat dusky, irides deep red; breast brownish
black. Adult male with the forehead loral space, throat
and upper part of the head dusky ; sides of the head,
neck all round for nearly the entire length, reddish
chestnut; lower neck, fore part of the breast and back
black ; rest of the back, white, closely marked with un-
dulating lines of black ; rump and upper tail coverts,
blackish ; primaries and secondaries, light slate color ;
tail short, the feathers pointed ; lower part of the breast
and abdomen white; flank same color, finely pen-
cilled with dusky ; lower tail coverts blackish brown,
_ intermixed with white. Length, 22 inches; wing,
9 1-4.

Female.—Upper parts grayish brown; neck, sides
and abdomen the same; upper part of the breast brown ;
belly white, pencilled with blackish; rather smaller
than the male, with crown blackish brown.

Weight of male 5 3-4 lbs: of female, 2 3-4 Ibs.
sal

GREEN-WINGED TEAL. 163

CHAPTER XV.
GREEN-WINGED TEAL.
(Anas Crecca.)

The Green-winged Teal are very similar to the Blue-
winged Teal in their habits, but they are more hardy.
They come later in the fall, and stay until the weather
is very cold. Their cry is a peculiar one, being a
shrill whistle, which can be heard a long distance
through the calm woods. They are found along the
mud banks of the rivers, resting quietly on the shelter-
ed shore of a secluded cove, protected from the wind,
and where they can enjoy the warmsunshine. I have
often gone along the shore where overhanging willows
afford excellent blinds, and in my boat slowly drifting
or sculled along, have had splendid shooting, jumping
them out in pairs from the driftwood along the shores,
or as they flew from the grass at the water’s edge.
They are hardy little fellows and tenacious of life,
being expert divers when wounded.

These birds often afford great pleasure to the young
hunter, as they are the means of largely swelling the
number of ducks killed in a given day. He finds an
enclosed pond, where stillness reigns supreme, guided
to the spot by the whistling cries of the birds. He
crawls to the pond, and in the shallow water sees their
little russet bodies moving along closely together, or
with sleepy mien passing the time away, half waking and
indolently blinking their eyes. The youthful Nimrod
restrains as best he can his growing excitement, rest-

164 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ing his gun against some friendly tree, sights and looks,
then, fearing least his aim should prove faulty, sights
and looks at them again. Feeling that his nerves are
steady, his eyesight true, his gun is fired into the
huddled mass, creating great slaughter, often ten or
fifteen birds being killed at one discharge.

These birds are found in overflowed bottom-land,
feeding on seeds and willow buds. They are swift
flyers, and the shooter should hold far ahead of the
moving bird. Like their blue-winged cousins they are
delicious eating.

Adult Male.—Bill almost as long as the head,
deeper than broad at the base, depressed toward the
end, its breadth nearly equal in its whole length, being,
however, a little enlarged toward the rounded tip;
head of moderate size, compressed; neck of moder-
ate length, rather slender; body full, depressed: wings
rather small ; feet short, placed rather far back; claws
small, curved, compressed, acute; the hind one smaller
and more curved; that of the third toe largest, and
with aninner sharp edge. Plumage dense, soft, blended.
Feathers of the middle of the head and upper part of
hind neck very narrow, elongated, with soft filament-
ous, disuniting bands ; of the rest of the head and upper
parts of the neck, very short; of the back and lower
parts in general, broad and rounded ; wings of moderate
length, narrow, acute; tail short, rounded and acumi-
nate, of sixteen acuminate feathers; bill black; iris
brown; feet light bluish gray; head and upper part of
the neck chestnut brown; a broad band narrowing back-
ward from the eye down the back of the neck, deep shin-
ing green edged with black below, under which is a white

GREEN-WINGED TEAL. 165

line, which before the eye meets another that curves for-
ward and downward to the angles of the mouth; chin,
brownish black, as are the feathers at the base of the
upper mandible. Upper parts and flanks beautifully
undulated with narrow brownish black and white bars;
anterior to the wings is a short, broad, transverse band
of white ; wings brownish gray ; the speculum in the
lower half, violet-black, the upper, bright green, chang-
ing to purple, and edged with black ; behind margined
with white, before with reddish white ; tail brownish
gray, the feather margined with paler ; the upper coverts
brownish black, edged with light yellowish gray ; lower
part of the neck anteriorly barred as behind; breast
yellowish white, spotted with black ; its lower part white:
abdomen white, faintly barred with gray; a patch of
black under the tail; the lateral tail coverts cream col-
ored, the larger black,with broad,white margins and tips.

Length to end of tail, fourteen and three-quarters
inches ; extent of wings 24; weight 10 oz.

Adult Female-—The female wants the elongated
crest, and differs greatly in coloring. The head and neck
are streaked with dark brown, and light red; the fore
neck whitish; the upper parts mottled with dark-
brown; the anterior feathers barred; the posterior
margined with yellowish white. The wings are nearly
as in the male, but the green of the speculum is less
extensive. The lower part of the fore neck is tinged
with yellowish red, and mottled with dark brown, as
are the sides; the rest of the lower parts white.

Length to end of tail, thirteen and three quarters
inches; extent of wings, twenty-two and a half :
weight 10 oz.

AMERICAN WIDGEON—* BALD PATE,” 167

CHAPTER KV
AMERICAN WIDGEON—* BALD PATE.”
(Anas Americana.)

Adult Male.—Bill nearly as long as the head, deeper
than broad at the base, depressed towards the end, the
sides nearly parallel, the tip rounded.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed. Neck
rather long, slender. Body elongated and slightly de-
pressed. Feet very short; tibia bare for about a quarter
of an inch; tarsus very short, compressed.

Plumage dense, soft, blended. Feathers of the head
and upper neck oblong, small; those along the crown
and oeciput longer; of the lower parts ovate, glossy
with the extremities of the filaments stiffish. Wings
rather long, little curved, narrow, pointed. Tail short,
rounded and pointed, of sixteen feathers, of which the
middle pair are more pointed, and project considerably.

Bill light grayish blue, with the extremity including
the ungines and a portion of the margin black. Iris,
hazel. Feet light bluish gray, the webs darker, the
claws dusky; the upper part of the head is white, more
or less mottled with dusky on its sides; the loral space
and cheeks reddish white, dotted with greenish black ;
a broad band from the eye to behind the occiput deep
green. The lower part of the hind neck, the scapulars
and the fore part of the back are minutely transversely

168 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

undulated with brownish black and light brownish red ;
the hind part similarly undulated with blackish brown
and grayish white. The smaller wing coverts are
brownish gray; the primary quills and coverts dark
grayish brown; the secondary coverts white, tipped
with black. The speculum is dusk-green anteriorly,
bounded by the black tips of the secondary coverts-
The tail feathers are light brownish gray. The throat
is brownish black ; the lower part of the neck in front,
and the fore part of the breast light brownish red; the
breast, belly, and sides of the rump white; the sides
of the body finely undulated with white and dusky ;
the rump beneath and the lower tail coverts black.

Length to the end of the tail, twenty and a half
inches ; extent of wings, thirty-four and a half; weight,
1 pound 14 ounces.

Adult Female——The female is considerably smaller.
The bill, feet and iris are colored as in the male. The
head and upper part of the neck all around are white
or reddish-white, longitudinally streaked with brown-
ish-black. The top of the head transversely barred :
the lower part of the neck in front and behind, the fore
part of the back, and the scapulars are blackish-brown ;
the feathers broadly margined with brownish-red, and
barred with the same; the bars on the neck narrow :
the hind part of the back dusky ; the upper tail coverts
barred with white. The wings are grayish brown ; the
secondary coverts tipped with white; the secondary
quills are brownish black; the inner, grayish brown, all
margined with white. All the lower parts are white.
excepting the feathers of the sides and under the tail
which are broadly barred with dusky and light reddisk

brown.

— Saree

AMERICAN WIDGEON—‘‘ BALD PATE.” 169

Length to end of tail, 18 inches; extent of wings.
30 inches; weight, 1 pound 5 ounces.

The habits and peculiarities of the widgeon are sim-
ilar to those of the pin-tail and mallard, although they
do not frequent the timber as the mallards do, but pre-
fer remaining out in the open field and prairies. When
spring rains overflow low lands, spreading on the sur-
face of the water the accumulations of winter, then one
can expect to find the widgeon in large numbers, asso-
ciating with pin-tails and mallards. They are an ex-
ceedingly shy duck to shoot on the water, either from
seull or paddle boat ; but when coaxed down by imitat-
ing their cries, they come down from great heights
with graceful abandon, and perfectly unsuspicious of
danger, drop softly in among the wooden decoys. They
are an easy bird to kill when hit, and they seem to lack
that vitality so noticeable in several other species of
ducks. It isn’t necessary to have decoys of the same
kind, mallards doing almost equally as well. They are
always in good condition for the table, and are most
excellent eating.

No. 6 Chicago shot is the best size to use.

a
i
3 -
a
ae
“<p
=<

ify

“s

GADWALL DUCK—GRAY DUCK. 171

CHAPTER XVII.
GADWALL DUCK—GRAY DUCK.
(Anas Streperus.)

Adult Male.—Bill nearly as long as the head, deeper
than broad at the base, depressed toward the end, the
sides parallel, the tip rounded. Head, of moderate size,
oblong, compressed. Neck, rather long and slender.
Body elongated, slightly depressed. Feet, very short;
tibia bare for about a quarter of an inch ; tarsus, very
short, compressed ; plumage dense, soft, blended
feathers of the head short, of the occiput and nape
little elongated ; of the lower parts glossy, with the
extremities of the filaments stiffish. Wings, rather
’ long, a little curved, pointed. Tail, short, rounded, of
sixteen strong pointed feathers, of which the middle pair
project considerably.

Bill, bluish black; iris, reddish hazel; feet, dull
orange yellow; claws brownish black ; webs dusky ;
head, light yellowish red ; the upper part of nape much
darker and barred with dusky, the rest dotted with
the same. The lower part of the neck, the sides
of the body, the fore part of the back, and the outer
scapula, undulated with dusky and yellowish white ;
the bands much larger and semi-circular on the fore
part of the neck and breast; the latter white, the
abdomen faintly and minutely undulated with brownish

172 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

gray, the hind part of the back brownish black ; the
rump all round and the upper and lower tail coverts,
bluish black ; tail brownish gray, the feathers margin-
ed with paler. Length to end of tail, twenty-one and
three-fourths inches: extent of wings thirty-five ;
weight one pound ten ounces.

Adult Female. Considerably smaller. Bill, dusky
along the ridge , dull yellowish orange on the sides :
iris hazel , feet of a fainter tint than in the male;
upper part of the head brownish black, the feathers edged
with light reddish brown, a streak over the eye, the
cheeks, the upper part of the neck all round, light
yellowish red, tinged with grayand marked with small
longitudinal dusky streaks, which are fainter on the
neck, the sides, all the upper parts, and the lower rump
throat, that part being grayish white. The rest of the
feathers brownish black, broadly margined with yellow-
ish red. Wing coverts brownish gray, edged wit!
paler ; the wing otherwise as in the male, but the
speculum fainter, tail feathers and their coverts dusky,
laterally obliquely indented with pale brownish red, and
margined with reddish white.

Length to end of tail nineteen and one-fourth inches ;
extent of wings thirty-one.

The Gadwall Duck is locally known as the Gray
Duck, the latter name being the one it is almost always
called by practical hunters. The ducks seldom frequent
timbered country in the north, but much prefer open
prairie ponds and lakes, marshy and grassy places to
feed in. Their flight is similar to mallards, possibly a

GADWALL DUCK—GRAY DUCK. 173

little swifter, and-they are often taken for the female
mallard when shot at and this illusion is only dispelled
after killing and picking the duck up. They decoy
nicely in open ponds, whose shores are fringed with
flags, grass or wild rice. Mallard decoys are best to
use, except, of course, those of their own kind. These
ducks I found plenty in the lakes of Dakota, in the
early fall. In winter, they go south, and in late fall
are found in abundance, seemingly more plenty than
any other duck. Their call is very similar to a mallard’s
being finer, shriller, and not so vibrating and resonant.
No. 6 shot is the best size to use. These birds die
easily, and when crippled are not hard to capture.

CHAPTER XVIII.

QUAIL SHOOTING.

We stood in the marsh one day, Don and I,

He retrieving duck I killed almost in the sky.—
Great friends were we, chums, just like two boys,—
When a whistling quail coaxed us from our decoys.

OFTENTIMES in the sear and yellow fall, when Oc-
tober frosts have blighted the green summer sward, |
have stood in the marsh, my faithful four-footed friend
beside me, and he and I have looked away up on the
hillside, where golden corn-stalks were bending to the
breeze, where little thickets stood apart from one an-
other in clustered bodies, and the osage hedges formed
a line of impenetrable fence. At such times, the clear
air bore to our ears the sweetest cry known to the hunt-
er,—the call of the quail, whisthng for its scattered
nates. We looked at each other, and when I said to
him, “Shall we go?” the bright, honest face, with its
eloquent eyes, beamed on me so wistfully, no words

176 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

could more fully tell his secret longings. What a com-
plete transformation in my companion! Before the ery
of the quail, he stood in the swampy ground, cautious,
immovable and on the alert, a perfect retriever. And
now, after he finds that the utmost freedom is allowed
him toscent, to point, to find the gamest little bird that
ever spread wings, he springs forward, and with impet-
uous bound, clears bush and ditch, while ever and
anon, he looks joyfully back as if to thank me for the
pleasure or to chide me for moving so slowly. One of
these halcyon days is so fresh in my mind, that I can-
not resist the temptation to tell what Don and I saw,
when the whistling quail coaxed us from our decoys.

The dim. gray light of approaching day
Warns the hunter to arise and not delay;
For in the stubble, bushes or fence of rail,
He will find the happy, vociferous quail.

The quail is semi-domestic in its habits. It loves ciy-
ilization, and there is no place it likes so well as the
sparsely-settled country, invaded by a few settlers or
small villages, where the certain indications of rural life
are shown by fields of wheat, barley, buckwheat, and
the small clearings of the hardy pioneer. Around such
places they live and rear their young. The female,
with maternal instinct, seeks the place to rear her
brood. She is a “squatter’’ in the true sense of the
word. When she has found a place suitable for the
comfort of her expected family, and for her lord and
master a home, she pre-empts the land and settles upon
it; and the male with his life will see that her home-
stead rights are protected. There is no establishment
of this homestead by metes and bounds, as necessity re-
quires tn human laws but the divine law gives them a

QUAIL SHOOTING. ING?

territory for their dwelling place absolutely boundless,
where they can wander at their own sweet will.

The selection of her nesting-place is made with great
caution and care. She finds some quiet, secluded spot
hidden from the eyes of man and prying boys, trying if
possible, to keep her tiny nest and little ones hid from
the cruel hawk, the prowling skunk, or the night-wan-
dering and ghostly owl. The deep recesses of an old
fence, where black-berry bushes twine affectionately
around the decayed rails, or boards, are to her liking;
bunches of grass, the warm sheltered and protecting
hedges, offer to her inviting places to build her nest,
to lay her eggs, to incubate, and to rear her young.
This she is ready to do the latter part of May, at times
earlier, depending on the season —instinct teaches her
the proper time.

The eggs laid vary in number from one dozen to two
dozen. The period of hatching is about four weeks.
When the little ones are brought into the world they
are filled with life, and are ready to start out on a voy-
age of discovery. About the first thing they do is to
engage in a foot race, and this they do to the great de-
spair of their fond mother, who with tender entreaty
and a great deal of running manages to keep them to-
gether. Happy family are they ; proud mother is she.
The father bears his honors graciously. I have often
seen this little family when hunting prairie-chicken.
The dog would come to a point on a bunch of grass ;
the cock would fly away; then the mother, loath to
leave her young and tender brood to the mercies of an
enemy, would fly a few yards, and with fluitering
wings alight and hobble away; would feign serious in-

jury that she might divert the attention of the hunter
19

178 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

from her little ones, and would court aeath herself,
rather than aught should happen to those she loved so
dearly; they, frail, little things, would run chirping
away with frightened cry, calling to their mother for
protection, or, finding escape impossible, would hide
themselves

bodies if they could, if not, their heads—in
some bunch of grass ; and how they would stare at one
in blank astonishment, when picked up and stroked
tenderly with one’s warm hands. After they have been
enjoying the emoluments and pleasures of this earth
for perhaps thirty days, the mother reads the riot act
to her lord, telling him how she had built them a home,
had faithfully attended her duties, had hatched the
brood, had fed and cared for them without complaint
and without the expectation of reward: had brought.
them up almost to a condition of independence, and
now she wanted him to do his share. He acknowledges
the truth of her assertions, and accepts the situation,
promising faithfully to protect them to the best of his
ability, and to initiate them into the mysteries of how
to keep out of the clutches of their natural enemies.
The female then retires to her nest and brings up an-
other brood the same season, and the male assumes en-
tire control of the flock turned over to him. When it
happens that an event occurs to drive the female from
her nest, she will return; but should the eggs be
handled by man or boy, then she deserts her nest for-
ever. Should her nest be destroyed she leaves the
place, and for along time, days and weeks, will wander
moodily around, or on some fence will dejectedly sit
as if in the deepest mourning and despair; while her
mate shows, as plainly as he can, the sympathy he has
for her in her bereavement.

QUAIL SHOOTING. 179

One woula naturally suppose that after being reared
in thickets and hidden places, that when quail have be-
come grown and strong they would go to the same
places to roost. Not so; after having reached the age
of discretion, as it were, they flock together, and with
one flight seek some open field, where, closely bunched
together, they pass the night. It seems strange, that
after having been bred and brought up in the depth of
some quiet retreat, that when weeks had added strength
to their bodies and acuteness to their natural instincts,
that they should abandon these places, and seek the
open and exposed field for their roosting-places, and yet
the very openness of their roosting-place is an assurance
of their safety, as night prowling animals and birds of
prey skulking through the deep woods, or skimming
phantom-like through the awful stillness of the silent
trees, avoid the open fields. After alighting from their
flight they huddle together, with heads pointing out-
ward, forming a circle, and presenting to all quarters of
approach a serried circle of pointed bills and black
sparkling eyes. When disturbed, they fly up with a great
whirr and roar, caused by the quick moving of their
broad, strong wings, and each shifts temporarily for it-
self. Their manner of roosting is different from most
other birds, in this respect: they do not sleep with the
head beneath the wing. In roosting together as they do,
it seems to inspire in them a spirit of confidence and
fraternal affection, each relying on the protection of the
other. With backs to each other they huddle and nestle
closely together ; the quarrels and fights of the day are
forgotten and they commingle in sweet confusion. This
they do in early fall, as well as inthe cold winter
months. In winter they crowd closely together, bow

180 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

their heads to the blinding and drifting snow, and sit
quietly until break of day, when they hustle out from
their imprisonment, and set forth on their daily travels.
At times, the snow covers them ; then comes the rain
or sleet: the snow melts, then freezes. Alas! these
changes are their death-knell. The frozen snow seals
them hermetically in their beds. They struggle for
liberty, find it impossible to regain it, and at last they
give up in despair and creeping closely together, ignobly
perish. Whole coveys are frequently frozen in this
manner. In mid-winter, they brave the dangers of the
woods, and to escape the fierce violence of the winter’s
storm, and the piercing, bitter cold, they huddle together
in fence corners, clumps of trees, and thick underbrush,
where they roost at night, and at break of day are pot-
ted by the unfeeling and implacable pot-hunter ; or, are
seduced into captivity through the machinations of the
bucolic youth and his figure four trap.

With us they remain through the eutire year. Hunger
drives them from the sequestered places in mid-winter,
and they become partially domesticated, if left un-
molested, and will come to the barnyard and gardens
of the farmers, ever welcome and cheery visitors to the
maternal wife and prattling children. Coming as they
do, day after day, picking the corn and scattered grain
in the farmyard, or especially favored with crumbs
from the table, they utter their cheering call at break of
day, and greet the early riser as he goes forth at dawn
to tend his stock.

I have several times called at some farmyard, and
after pleasant greetings with the lady of the house, en-
quired if there were any quails round. “ Yes,” she would
reply “ we have a flock, the children and I. Have had

bg a

QUAIL SHOOTING. Hest

them for two or three years. They come to us every
winter, stay till sprmg; then, when the snow is gone,
and the weather is mild, they leave us, but always return.
In summer they breed and live in the orchard. We

frequently see the little ones running around with their

parents. But we don’t disturb them; they seem to
know us, and have so much confidence in us that we
couldn’t have the heart to injure them. It would cause
much sorrow to the children and myself were these birds
destroyed or driven away.”

At such times I wish I hadn’t asked the question :
and bidding the kind-hearted lady good day, call my
dog, and in deep thought wander aimlessly away.

In September the birds flock, and are ready about the
middle of October to make fine sport. Their call is a
familiar one, and I know of nothing similar to it, unless
it be to call as if for some truant child, exclaiming plain-
tively, ‘* Bob White ! Bob White!” This is the call
used by them early in the spring and through the summer.
The male does this, while idly sitting on a fence post, or
the lower limb of some scraggy tree, his partner at this
time being fully occupied on her nest, always within
hearing, and usually in sight of him.

Later in the season their call changes, and I have
never heard at this time of the year any utterances
from their throats that could be construed or twisted
into “Bob White.” Their call at this time being
““Wah-ee-he!” ‘* Wah-ee-he !”

When frightened at either man or dog, they utter a
sharp, chittering sound, preparatory to flight,—not
always, but at times. Look out for them then, for they
will suddenly spring up, with a whirr and roar, that
will rattle any one not possessing the steadiest nerves.

182 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

At such times, when alarmed, they will seek escape by
flight, and run from the cause of their fright. Then,
as if in doubt whether to fly, run or hide, show fear by
erecting their feathers on the back of their necks, and
tops of their heads. Be careful now, they will fly.
When they do, try and make a double. At the same
time, don’t forget to mark them down. When you
have noticed where they lit, locate the spot by some
tree, bush, post or tall weed. Don’t hurry to reach the
spot, for if badly frightened they will remain stationary
where they light, and clasping their wings close to their
bodies, withhold their scent. This they have the power
to do. Better waita little, then they will get composed,
and seeing and hearing nothing, will commence to
search for their scattered companions. It is early in
the day; time is of no consequence ; remain still, and
you will have an opportunity to study these little
beauties. Keep silent! make no noise! How still it
seems. One would positively aver that there was no
feathered life within the sound of your voice, except that
grim hawk, who sits on the limb of yon dead tree, out
in the open field. Well he knows that he has selected
a place of perfect safety. How you wish you were
near him; or, if behind that old rail fence with your
rifle, how easily you could pick him off. But hark !
what’s that noise? There reaches your ear a sound so
sweet yet indistinct that you know not what it is or
whence it came. Patiently you wait until you feel that
your patience will go unrewarded. You are about to
give up the hope of hearing it again, when it comes to
you with greater clearness than before, and yet you
cannot locate it. How sweet and low, still with what
great clearness is it uttered. Now you know it is one

QUAIL SHOOTING. 183

of the scattered covey calling its mate. Listen! With
what caution he makes his love call. Together with
his mate he enjoys solitude, but now that he is alone
he is despondent. Note the mellowness of his ery, the
pleading in his loving voice. He dare not call aloud,
yet he wishes to be heard. Then, fearing that his pur-
suers may also hear, subdues his voice, as if frightened
at its volume. Gently he calls again, ‘“ Wah-ee-he !
Wah-ee-he!” He listens for that responsive call ex-
pectantly, then emboldened by the silence, desirous of
meeting his mate, oblivious to the danger he may en-
counter, he moves from his hiding-place, and boldly
steps forth in aslght opening and anxiously looks
around. He sees and hears nothing, and feels satisfied
his enemies have departed. He stares fiercely around, as
if to challenge any intruder. He hearkens, expecting
an answer to his call. His neck swells, his head is
thrown back, as loud calls issue from his throat. Then,
as if feeling perhaps that his calls have been too imper-
ative, subdues his voice, and with tender accents calls
for his lady love. Impatiently he waits for a reply.
His mate, gentle, confiding little one, has been within
hearing all the time; she would not hurry to him, lest
in, that haste, she might do an act inconsistent with her
sex. She replies not to his many calls. When in an-
gry disappointment he fiercely cries, she runs hastily
toward him, regretting her coquetry and fearing his
anger. Then again, when that fierce voice is tempered
into sweetest music to her ears. she delays her coming
that she may not appear too forward. Once again he
raises himself to his full height, getting ready to make
the woods echo and re-echo with his cries, but before
he opens his mouth, a tiny form, dressed in gold and

184 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

mottled white, runs to his side. The fierce, proud look
forsakes him; the fiery glance in that wild eye is
softened ; he gazes fondly, lovingly at her, and all is
forgiven. The little flirt knew it would be. How
pretty they look together, affianced lovers. Side by
side they run from view. You look where they disap-
peared, soll quizing: ‘When once the young heart
of a maiden is stolen, the maiden herself will steal after
it soon.”

All around you now the air will be filled with joyous
sounds, coming from the scattered covey. Now that
you have them separated, keep them so. Send forth
your faithful dog, and never regret the short time you
lost in watching these birds unawares.

Whether or not quail are subject to domestication,
quere? My experience has been they are not. The
love of freedom is so thoroughly engrafted in their na-
ture that no amount of kindness can offset to them the
dearest thing on earth, liberty. I have tried all manner
of ways, devised and carried out all kinds of schemes
to bring them into mild subjection, but without ex-
ception have universally failed. Have carried home
cripples, having stunned them with stones, or arrows
when a boy; resuscitated them, bringing them out of
insensibility by opening their mouths and breathing
life into them; have gently caressed and kindly cared
for them ; kept them confined in roomy cages, supplied
them with choicest food such as in their liberty they
might possibly get; have constantly been in their pres-
ence,—thinking in this way, coupled with kind affec-
tion, I might win their confidence, but signally failed.
To be sure, after a time, they would not flutter against
the cage, or seek to escape from me, if I did not touch

“LNIOd LSYIS SIH

QUAIL SHOOTING. 185

the cage ; but it was love’s labor lost, for the instant I
left one at liberty he took advantage of it, and flew
away, never to return. I have seen their eggs hatched
by a hen, but they were no sooner from the shell than
they would skulk and hide in the nearest wood-pile,
under the walk, or any other place to avoid me.

There is one thing about quail, that I have never had
explained or been able to understand, that is: the con-
fused state they are in at times during their migrations.
For they certainly do migrate,—not far, but their little
bodies are filled with restlessness, with the desire to
wander, and they make their nomadic excursions late
in October, or early in November. Not always by
flight, but at times in great flocks they will start out
on foot, travel miles and miles, flying across rivers,
alighting on land and running along very fast, as if on
some necessary pilgrimage. Years ago, I have fre-
quently seen them on these journeys, at the edges of
villages, running along, each trying to keep ahead of
his nearest competitors, then they would arise and fly
into town, with the swiftness of a bullet, and the whole
flock would be headed for some building. In the woods,
their flight was never too swift for them to avoid the
smallest tree ; but in town, they didn’t seem to be able
to steer clear of two-story houses, and with a dull thud
their bodies would thump against the buildings in the
line of their flight. This I have seen repeatedly, and
have picked up as many as four from one flock, that
had thus stunned themselves. After alighting once,
they regain their accustomed vigilance, but boys, clubs,
stones, bows and arrows, and ancient shot guns, used to
sadly diminish their ranks. They were very plenty
in those days, and I have killed as many as seven in

186 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

one day, with blunt arrows. I would now willingly
tramp all day to kill as many with breech-loader.

Quail are very fond of grain of nearly all kinds,
especially corn and buckwheat; and in such fields they
will surely be found. They are fond of seeds, berries,
and in old cattle paths they get the cream of their
existence.

The old saying about “the early bird catching the
worm” is true here. The early hunter is the suc-
cessful one. He should start out in the gray of the
morning, and when the sun is showing his genial face,
banishing the frost from trees, grass and stubble, the
keen dog should be widely ranging through expectant
places, and his master should be no laggard. There is
no sport excelled by this. The bracing, keen air, the
tireless setter, the expected game, the broad fields, the
panorama stretched before the hunter, clothed in purple,
green, yellow and brown, all serve to make the hunt
intensely exciting. Nature, touched by the withering
hand of Jack Frost, presents a picture never to be for-
gotten. The constant anticipation of finding the hidden
bird, the ceaseless watching of the bounding dog, as he
leaps joyously forward, sweeping his silken tail to and
fro over the grass, is a sight so grand that it fills the
very soul of the hunter with delight.

** When Autumn smiles, all beauteous in decay
And paints each checkered grove with various hues,
My setter ranges in the new shorn fields
His nose in air erect; from ridge to ridge,
Panting he bounds, his quartered ground divides
In equal intervals, nor careless leaves
One inch untried. At length, the tainted gales
His nostrils wide inhale ; quick joy elates
His beating heart, which awed by discipline
Severe, he dares not own, but cautious creeps,

Low, cowering step by step, at last, attains
His proper distance, there he stops at once.

QUAIL SHOOTING. 187

And points with his instinctive nose upon

The trembling prey; on wings of wind upborne
The floating net unfolded flies; then drops,
And the poor fluttering captives rise in vain. ”’

Seek the birds in the stubble, in the low underbrush,
in the thick tufts of grass, in the lowlands, where small
and scraggy trees abound, in the corn-fields, and, if you
have a good dogand hunt faithfully, your industry will
not go unrewarded. Mark well the divided flock, and
if unable to find them, leave quietly, and return in an
hour or so, and you will have them sure. They fly
rapidly. Use alight 12 ga. gun, 3 1-2 dims. powder, well
wadded, and 1 1-8 oz. No. 8 shot. On straight-away
birds hold a little over, they are rising ; on cross shots,
beware, they are going very fast, hold well ahead.
Shoot from one to six feet in advance of them, depend-
ing on their distance from you. Don’t be afraid of
shooting too far ahead, for when you do this once you
will shoot behind twenty times. Risk any shot in rea-
son, better shoot and miss than not to shoot at all;
bang away atany bird you think is inside of sixty
yards. Don’t shoot too quick. You can killa bird at
forty yards, if you hold right; and you ean’t do it at
twenty if you do not. Have a good dog; be patient
with him. Always have plenty of shells along; and if
you don’t kill many birds at first, you will have a heap
of fun, a good appetite, and will eventually feel well
repaid. The best quail shooting I ever found was in
Western Iowa, where Mr. Chas. Tate and myself
bagged seventy-six birds in one day, both shooting over
the same dog.

Ihave before me at this time a covey, seven in num-
ber. Life with these little beauties has been extinct
these many years. Still, they stand before me as if liv-

188 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ing, breathing, and enjoying animation. So true are they
to life that we imagine if the glass door to their sepul-
chre were opened, with a loud whirr they would arise
and flee from the hated presence of man. Four are
inales, three females. They are In crouched position,
three pairs, while the odd one, an old cock, stands up
in the majesty of his strength, the chosen sentinel of
the little party, looking wildly around, as if to espy
some hidden danger. Thus he stands, silently, grandly,
while his companions, having implicit faith in his guar-
dianship, pluck the berries from the tiny bushes and
pick from off the ground the scattered seeds. The
scene is true to life, one that every hunter of these birds
has frequently witnessed. What a labor of love it
must have been to the man who arranged the cage.
Not only did he exhibit his skill as a taxidermist, but
he displayed artistic taste that only could have been be-
gotten of an inherent love for his chosen profession.
The graceful attitudes of the birds, the bent, dried
grass, the drooping bushes, from which dried berries
hang suspended, the miniature trees, leafless and indic-
ative of approaching winter; the moss-covered rocks,
the sere and brown-carpeted earth,—all tend to show
the skill of the taxidermist and the practical knowl-
edge he must have possessed of the appearance, habits
and resorts of these game birds. Sitting as I am in
their charming presence, it gives me a double pleasure
in inscribing with pen and ink a testimonial to their
beauty and worth. What a thrilling sense of recollec-
tion they bring up to me, when with staunch pointer
or steady setter I have hunted these strong flying birds.
The sweet memories of years bring back the event as if
it were but yesterday. Months, a decade of years, a

QUAIL SHOOTING. 189

score of years, and yet, as I gaze fondly, admiringly, at
the birds, I can distinctly recall happy hours spent
among them. ‘Time does not dim, but rather adds, to
the memory of the past, and childhood’s days arise be-
fore me so clear, indeed the happiest of them all, when
I pursued these birds with hickory bow and feathered
arrows.

aatiem Av) “Ua bi

Pals
4,
a De
'

ryt

DUSKY OR BLACK DUCK. 1914

CHAPTER XIX.
DUSKY OR BLACK DUCK.
(Anas Obscura.)
Black Mallard in the West,

Adult Male.—Bill about the length of the head, high-
er than broad at the base, depressed and widened to-
wards the end, rounded at the tip. Head of moderate
size, oblong, compressed ; neck, rather long and slender,
body, full, depressed ; feet, short, stout, placed a little
behind the ceutre of the body; legs, bare a little above
the joint; tarsus, short, a little compressed ; hind toe,
extremely small. Plumage dense, soft and elastic ; on
the head and neck the feathers linear oblong; on the
other parts in general broad and rounded. Wings of
moderate breadth and length, acute. ‘Tail, short, much
rounded, of eighteen acute feathers.

Bill, yellowish green ; iris, dark brown; feet, orange
red; the webs, dusky. The upper part of the head is
glossy brownish black ; the feathers margined with hgh’
brown ; the sides of the head and a band over the eyc
are light grayish brown, with longitudinal dusky
streaks ; the middle of the neck is similar, but more
dusky. The general color is blackish brown, a little
paler beneath. All the feathers margined with reddish
brown. The wing coverts are grayish-dusky, with a
faint tinge of green; the ends of the secondary coverts
velvet-black. Primaries and their coverts blackish

492 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

brown, with their shafts brown ; secondaries, darker ;
the speculum is green, blue-violet, or amethyst-purple,
according to the light in which it is viewed,—bounded
by velvet black; the feathers also tipped with a narrow
line of white. The whole under surface of the wing,
and the axillaries white. Length to end of tail twenty-
four anda half inches ; extent of wings thirty-eight and
a half inches. Weight, 3 pounds.

Adult Female-—The female, which is somewhat
smaller, resembles the male in color, but is more brown
and has the speculum of the same tints, but without
the white terminal line. Length to end of tail 22
inches ; extent of wings 34 1-4.

The dusky duck, or as they are called in the West,
- black mallard,” is very rarely killed here. It is es-
sentially an eastern duck. Occasionally it strays away
seeking pastures new, and the Western hunter is pleas-
antly surprised as well as gratified, when by chance he
bags a few of these birds. They are about the size,
perhaps a trifle larger, than our mallard, but in taste
and habits appear identical. There are places in the
West where they are fairly, one might say, quite plen-
tiful ; but this is the exception, and not the rule.

AMERICAN COOT--MUD-HEN, HELL-DIVER. 198

CHAPTER XX.
AMERICAN COOT—MUD-HEN, HELL-DIVER.

WEBSTER defines a fowl to be, “a vertebrate animal,
having two legs and two wings, and covered with
feathers, or down; a bird.” This definition is far
reaching and admits of a generous construction, and
one needs absolute freedom of analysis in attempting
to classify Coots—or, as we call them in the West,
*‘mud-hens ” and ‘ hell-divers *—as wild fowl. The
universal opinion of Western hunters is, that they are
a harmless nuisance, neither fit for sport nor food.
Tis true they are bipeds, winged animals, but are a
poor excuse for meat—only to be tolerated when the
larder is empty, and the cravings of a strong stomach
demand flesh for sustenance. At such a time a
person could shut his eyes, fix his thoughts far off,
accept this food sent him in the way of manna, transfer
himself to the days of Biblical times, imagine himself
an Elijah, not fed by ravens, but feeding on mud-hens.
Under such circumstances, a person ought to get along
fairly well, providing he can keep his thoughts at all
times removed from the existing condition of things.
Perhaps Iam incompetent to sit as judge, and condemn
these birds, when an honest confession forces me to
admit I never tasted them. My opinion is based en-
tirely on hearsay,—incompetent in a legal sense, but in
a gastronomical one, sufficient for all practical purposes.
Frequently they are eaten by hunters, and with—so

they say—egreat relish. They claim they taste some-
13

194 - WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

what similar to a duck, but are strong and rank. It
doesn’t add to the flavor by any means, that after the
flesh has been hastily masticated, and is carried with
the current of saliva down one’s esophagus, that it leaves
in the mouth an unpleasant taste of both fish and mud.

The only person I have really heard compliment them
was an amateur hunter who carried several of them
home, the result of his shooting, and ate them under
the impression they were young ducks, although he was
unable to acquaint his wife with the name of the species.

They are familiar to every duck-shooter, and it is
unnecessary to describe them ornithologically. In the
fall of the year, in late summer, one has only to visitany
marshy, shallow place, where ducks in season frequent,
and these dark blue, slaty-black little fellows will be
seen in hundreds and thousands, their sharp white bills
so conspicuous, —like a wedge driven into their head.
They dislike flight, and will resort to every means of
hiding rather than to escape by flight. They are
strong swimmers and expert divers. For both purposes
nature has provided them abundantly, as their feet are
broad, legs long, and extend far back, in flight reaching
behind them like a stork’s. Their food consists of
larvae, rice, but chiefly of tender roots, which they get
by diving down and tearing them from the mud. In
habits they are fraternal, and affiliate together in large
flocks, at times blackening the water, so plenty are
they. While voracious feeders, they enjoy a good
time, and some of them will wade out on shallow mud-
banks, or clamber up on musk-rat houses, and sit for
hours quietly dozing, while their companions in the
water are industriously feeding, sipping, chattering, and
uttering faint whistling sounds which are readily con-

AMERICAN COOT—MUD-HEN, HELL-DIVER. 195

strued into exclamations of content and _ satisfaction
with themselves.

When a boat is seen approaching them, or a hunter
is noticed on the shore, or comes through the rice-stalks,
making a loud, rattling crashing sound, they compress
their dark bodies to the earth, and slide and glide from
off their pleasant dozing places through the rushes,
and skulk along until they reach a place deep enough
toswim; then they all head for the deep and open water,
and swim in dense bodies, until they think they have
reached a place of safety. If the young hunter wants
to hear the report of his gun, and see the shot splash in
the water, he can now do so,—they wont fly, but will
just keep out of range. Mallards and other ducks
appear to look on them with contempt, and do not seek
their company. This is no cause of offense to the mud_
hen, and they go where they please in perfect indiffer-
ence as to whether or not they are welcome. When
forced to fly they present a very pretty target as they
gopast. Their flight being regular, steady and about
the swiftness of a mallard. As they arise from the
water they present a ludicrous appearance. It takes
them a long time to getunder headway. They start, the
tips of their wings beating the water, instantaneously
their feet get in motion, and off they go. First their
wings avoid hitting the surface, then, for perhaps 30 or
40 yards, their feet kick the water behind them, present-
ing to the eye of the observer miniature waves and tiny
billows of sparkling white-caps, which soon disappear
and dissolve, commingling with the body of the lake.
Do not allow them around your decoys,—they will keep
ducks away; but drive them out by showing yourself,
or occasionally shooting at them.

BUFFLE-HEAD DUCK—BUTTER BALL. HOG,

CHAPTER XXI.
BUFFLE-HEAD DUCK—BUTTER BALL.
(Puligula Alveola.)

Adult Male.—Bill much shorter than the head, com-
paratively narrow, deeper than broad at the base,
gradually depressed at the end, which is rounded.

Head rather large, compressed; eyes of moderate
size ; neck, short and thick : body compact, depressed ;
feet very short, placed far back; tarsus very short,
compressed.

Plumage, dense, soft and blended ; feathers on the
fore part of the head very small and rounded ; on the
upper and hind parts, linear and elongated, as they also
are on the lateral and hind parts of the upper neck, so
that when raised, they give the head an extremely
tumid appearance, which is more marked that the
feathers of the neck immediately beneath are short.
Wings, very small, decurved, pointed, and tail short,
graduated, of sixteen feathers. Bill, light grayish blue :
iris, hazel; feet, very pale flesh color: claws, brownish
black ; fore part of the head a deep rich green ; upper
part rich bluish purple, of which color also are the
elongated feathers on the fore part and sides of the neck,
the hind part of the latter deep green, a broad band of
pure white from one cheek to the other over the oc-
ciput:; the colored part of the head and neck are re-

198 WILD FOWL SHOOTING

splendent and changeable; the rest of the neck the
lower parts, the outer scapulars, and a large patch on
the wing, including the greater part of the smaller
coverts and some of the secondary coverts and quills
pure white ; the scapulars narrowly margined with black
as are the inner, lateral feathers ; the feathers on the:
anterior edge of the wing are black, narrowly edged
with white. Alula, primary coverts, and primary
quills, deep black ; the feathers on the rump gradually
fade into grayish white, and those of the tail are
brownish gray, with the edges paler, and the shafts
dusky.

Length to end of tail fourteen one-half inches; ex-
tent of wings twenty-three, weight one pound.

Adult Female-—The female is much smaller ; the
plumage of the head is not elongated as in the male,
but there is a ridge of longish feathers down the oc-
ciput, and nape. Bill, darker than the male ; feet, gray-
ish blue with webs of dusky; head, upper part of the
neck, hind neck, back and wings grayish brown. A
short transverse white bank, from beneath the eye, and
a slight speck of the same on the lower eyelid. Six of
the secondary quills white on the outer web; lower
parts white, shaded with light grayish brown on the
sides ; tail dull grayish brown.

Length to end of tail thirteen inches. Extent of
wings twenty-two one-fourth, weight eight ounces.

These ducks are among the smallest of the duck
tribe, and are ‘very seldom shot, unless from sport of
shooting, or unless the hunter is having an exceedingly
hard run of luck, and finds nothing else toshoot. They
are very swift of flight, and as they go through the air

BUFFLE-HEAD DUCK—BUTTER BALL. 199

with incredible speed, their wings cut the keen air, and
a whistling “* Whew-u-u”’ is heard, attracting the hear-
ers attention. Being seldom molested, they become
quite tame and present to the hunter easy shots on
water, but more difficult when on the wing. Their
food consists of larvee, shells and seeds, and they
frequent wooded ponds and gravelly shores.

>=
=>
* Ps cl pt
Mb . - F - .
. id oa :
e i" a ~ as’ * ¥
SS z a = :
Age Op i‘ 73 _
ee = =
=
- s
7 = »
= = a
<< . .
. 7
4 3
. , :
: :
=
/_= '
vv
- 7 *
2
—— ” .
>
‘ a
‘
: ’ > , F
<
e
, Le
oe: 2 . : ef etre F,
- 7 ¥ \
*

he
a
an
4
:
7
b

CHAPTER XXII.

RED-HEAD DUCK SHOOTING.

Low o’er the water in a bunch they come,
Brilliant in the sun that glossy head ;

We, in the sacred precinct of their home,

Rise, take aim, fire, then pick up the dead.

Wir the solitary exception of the canvas-back,
epicures consider the red-head the finest eating of the
duck family. They are readily and frequently mis-
taken for canvas-back by hunters of experience ; others
have classed them as and believe them to be, a species of
canvas-back. But such opinions are really without
substantial foundation, as they are as distinct from the
canvas-back as any other variety of duck, notwith-
standing their similarity in appearance. At the first
glance they appear much like the canvas -back, but a
closer examination, indeed, a casual look to one who is
posted and the difference is readily detected. Place a

D2 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

pair, one of each, side by side, and a child will see the
distinction. The bill of the canvas-back being fully three
inches in length, high at the base, running wedge-
shaped to the tip, and in color black ; on the other
hand, the bill of the red-head is about two and one-
fourth inches long, slightly concave, and in color dark
blue or slate. If the reader will only bear this in mind
he will never get mixed or undecided when he knocks
one down and thinks he has a canvas-back, when in
fact it is a red-head.

These birds are dainty but voracious feeders. They
only want what they like, and when they find it, hate aw-
fully to leave it, and will stand lots of shooting. What
appears to tickle their palates most are the roots and
blades of tender grass, wild celery, smart-weed, although
they have no hesitancy in skimming floating seeds from
the surface of some quiet pond; or, during an over-
flow, nipping the buds from the twigs amidst which
they swim.

In the fall they are comparatively scarce, the spring
being the season of their greatest abundance. The
water being high on the Mississippi, excellent shooting
may be had then. On the smaller inland rivers they
are still more plenty, but only when the streams are
swollen and set back, forming bayous and overflowing
the adjacent bottom land. At such times, I have found
them in great numbers and had splendid shooting, both
flieht and over decoys, in the deep woods of the Wap-
sipinicon river. This is a winding, tortuous stream,
extending through the state of Iowa from a_north-
westerly direction, and emptying into the Mississippi
twenty miles south of Clinton,—a treacherous stream,
dull and lifeless, when the water is low; but when

RED-HEAD DUCK SHOOTING. 208

snow melts in the north it booms and rushes and roars,
carrying everything before it.

Once when shooting red-heads on this stream I picked
my way out on a projecting point. I was there about
two hours. During that time the river rose fully three
feet, and but for a farmer I would have had to pass the
night in a tree. Red-heads are as nice a bird to shoot as
any duck in existence ; their flight is steady, strong, and
regular. They do not pitch and dart like most ducks,
but fly compactly together, straight ahead, with great
velocity. They should be hunted with decoys, as they
come to them prettily. While one should use decoys
of their own kind, canvas-back answer nearly as well,
and they will come in to blue-bills. Frequently when
coming in they will pass by as if not seeing them.
This is often done while going down wind. If the de-
coys are seen, the ducks will usually circle and come
back, alighting up wind. If they pass by, and the
hunter thinks they haven’t seen the decoys, he should
make a low chattering or cackling sound,—not loud,
just so they can hear. They will then be attracted to
the decoys and return. Some hunters let them light
and fire the first barrel while on the water. I dislike
this method and catch them while wings are outstretch-
ed, and just above the water. Experience has taught
me that the surest way to capture a crippled red-head
is to kill it, and I always shoot them as soon as I learn
they are crippled. It only takes from 1 1-8 to 1 1-4 oz.
shot and is soon done. Don’t chase them with a boat.
They are strong swimmers, very sagacious, and great
divers. Instinct teaches them to do anything to avoid
human beings.

In placing out your decoys select some open spot

204 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

where they can be seen from a distance; avoid putting
them in the shadow of grass, brush or trees. Keep
them in an open space, and, if possible, so the sun will
shine on them from the direction the ducks are coming
from. This will make them conspicuous, and loom
up attractively. Use all the decoys you have, the more
the better. Large flocks allay suspicion. Build your-
self a blind, not too high to interfere with your shoot-
ing; hide your boat, keep your eyes open, your tongue
still, and if birds are moving, you will soon have busi-
ness on hand.

Red-heads are scattered pretty well throughout the
United States. The finest shooting I ever had was in
the spring of 1888,0n the Missouri river bottom, about
four miles north of Missouri Valley, lowa. I had prom-
ised my friend, C. C. Williams of that place, if he
would telegraph me when red-head shooting was at its
height, I would put in a day with him. He did so.
We left Missouri Valley in the afternoon at four, drove
to the shooting grounds, and at half-past four, my com-
panion, McPherson and myself, with about thirty de-
coys, started out ina bond boat. The spot was fully
three miles from the Missouri river. It was in early
spring, the snow had melted and the bottom land was
overflowed for miles. The preceding night had been
cold, and sheet ice to the thickness of half an inch had
formed running from the shallow shore toward the
deeper water some two hundred yards. McPherson
pushed and I broke ice, and at five o’clock we were in
our blind, with decoys set out. My companion was a
man of acknowledged skill as a shot, but insisted that
I should do all the shooting, as he had been enjoying it
for some days, and he was resolved that I should

RED-HEAD DUCK SHOOTING. 205

shoot to my heart’s content. I had one hundred
shells, McPherson twenty. Those he said he had
brought along simply to shoot cripples. At six o’clock,
just one hour from the time we commenced to shoot, I
was out of shells. Mac. didn’t have one, and we picked
up between seventy and eighty red-heads that I had
killed, besides, there were five or six swimming about
with broken wings, that could not be gathered. Had
McPherson and myself had plenty of shells, I have no
doubt we could have killed two hundred in the same
time. As it was, I don’t believe I missed three out of
the last twenty-five shot at. They would swing in on
me and turn up their sides from twenty to thirty yards,
and I just couldn’t miss if I had tried. That was the
greatest hour of my life among ducks.

Red-heads usually being shot over decoys, No. 6 is
the size to use; that size, with plenty of good strong
powder behind it will reach them in flight shooting, or
when coming in over decoys, will lay them out effect-
ually.

°

RED-HEAD DUCK.
Anas Ferina—Fuligula Ferina.

Adult Male.—Bill bluish, toward the end black, and
about 2 1-4 inches long; irides, yellowish red. Adult
male wiih the head, which is rather large, and the upper
part of the neck all round dark reddish chestnut,brightest
on the hind neck; lower part of the neck extending on
the back and upper part of the breast, black ; abdomen,
white, darker toward the vent, where it is barred with

206 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

undulating lines of dusky; flank, gray, cloudy, barred
with black ; scapular the same ; primaries brownish gray ;
secondaries lighter; back, grayish brown, barred with
fine lines of white ; rump and upper tail coverts blackish
brown ; tail feathers grayish brown, lighter at the base ;
lower tail coverts brownish black, rather lighter than
the upper. Length 20 inches; wing 9 1-2. Female,
about 2 inches smaller, with the head, neck, breast and
general color of the upper parts, brown, darker on the
upper part of the head, lighter on the back. Bull, legs
and feet, similar to those of the male. The weight of
the adult male is about 2 1-2 pounds, and that of the
female, 2 lbs. 7 oz.

THE SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL. 207

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL.

To become an expert in the art of sculling wild fowl,
one must be thoroughly versed in it scientifically ; for
it is a science, and a complete knowledge of it can only
be obtained by hard work, constant practice and a de-
sire to become proficient in the science. He should never
get disheartened or discouraged; nor must he for a
moment think of failing in his attempt to learn. He
should always remember, “ That in the bright lexicon of
youth, there is no such word as fail.” It is sorry work
for a beginner, and as he sits in the stern of the boat, at-
tempting to scull, the oar will shp from him, and obsti-
nately refuse to catch the water right, in spite of his most
careful strokes. Then, after he has faithfully and dili-
gently practiced for, say half an hour, pains will shoot
through his side, caused by his cramped position ; his
wrists will ache and he will be completely tired out; then,
after he has caught the stroke, how difficult to keep the
boat from rocking. To get the power, he throws the
weight of his body on the oar, then the boat feels it; he
tries to get the motion of the boat stopped, but the more
he tries, the harder the boat rocks, and then its swish,
splash, swish, splash, as the boat rocks in the water, send-
ing great waves from its sides, and the only way he can
stop it, is to quit sculling, and let the rocking gradually
subside until it entirely stops. The scull-boat is, one

205 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

might truthfully say, a deep-water boat. While it is
light of draught, still the power so essential to give the
propelling force can only be had where the sculling oar
can have ample room to work, and it ought to have at
least three feet to work in; although in still water, or
where the current is running lightly, one can get along
nicely in two feet of water. The water should be free
from stumps, logs, rice spots, roots and moss. If the
sculler gets in where his oar is constantly stopped or
impeded, he cannot work with satisfaction, for the
steady motion is lost, and his oar loses control of the
boat.

The seuller sits on the larboard side of the boat, on
some hay or an old blanket. The sculling oar is run
through a hole about two and one fourth inches in
diameter, in the stern of the boat; the oar is bound
with leather where it works in the hole, and is from six
to eight feet long, depending on the taste of the sculler,
some liking long, others short oars. First thing the
sculler does, is to see that the boat is properly trimmed
or balanced. If he is alone, he puts weight enough on
the starboard bow to offset his own, as he sits on the
opposite side. Grasping the oar in both hands, he holds
the stem or handle of the oar on a level with his body,
and shoves the handle from, then draws it to him, turn-
ing his wrists a trifle each time as he reverses the mo-
tion. This gives a lateral movement to the blade in
the water, and he gets his power by shoving hard on
the oar as it goes from him, and drawing equally as hard
as the handle approaches him. ‘The body of the water
is the resistance, and whether the oar goes from or to
him it lifts wp against the dead weight of the water,
and the twisting of the wrists turns the blades just a

THE SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL. 209

trifle so its edges cut the water going and returning.
This shoves the boat ahead as if pushed from the stern.
An expert sculler will drive the boat along with such
steadiness that were one to shut his eyes and sit in the
boat, he would hear no noise, feel no motion, although
the boat is going quite fast. It must be borne in mind,
that the sculler should always have absolute control of
his boat; that is, to constantly send it steadily forward.
So steady indeed, that the slightest rocking of the boat
will not be seen or felt, or the smallest ripple made as
it moves, one might say as it skims, over the surface of
the water. The sculler never loses control, whether
he is near game or drifting down with the current.
His hands or hand, is constantly working the oar, quite
gently perhaps, still, just sufficient to feel the power
at the end of the blade, and to always have it at his
command. After years of experience one does this in-
stinctively. As by constant practice one becomes pro-
ficient in the art of sculling one of these small boats, it
is Surprising how one’s skill will become developed,
until an expert duck sculler will scull with both hands,
or one hand, while half reclining or lying on the flat of
his back.

In my experience of a lifetime in hunting wild fowl
T have used all kinds of duck-boats, and I never yet
found a man who, after using one of these boats, would
use any other. They are light of draught, can be row-
ed or pushed anywhere, are light of weight,—mine
weighed when new 105 pounds,—are perfectly safe, and
there is no danger or risk in using them anywhere. 1
have crossed the Mississippi in one, when the south
wind had lashed the broad river into a sea of seething,

hissing foam, as it rolled and flew into spray from the
14

21\) WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

erest of the big “ white caps ~; have stranded on sunk-
en logs, while the swift running current of the Wapsi-
pinicon river would spin the boat round and round
like a top, have had the current swing me into fallen
trees; have had the boat bump against logs and banks
with a force that would threaten destruction to the
whole outfit,—and yet, I never had an accident. The
boat is broad and low, the water may break over the
bow, and run in a stream over the bow and sides, but
the combing of the cock-pit will keep it out, and a little
sprinkling is the most inconvenience I have experi-
enced at any time.

My attention was first called to the absolute safety
of these boats when a boy. Having atthat time implicit
confidence in my abilities as a swimmer, I would often
court an accident in one of them. It would be in the
warm summer time, when dressed in linen pants, shirt
waist, and bare-footed. At that time, with a companion
equally as reckless, we would go out in the roughest
part of the Mississippi, in the highest winds, greatly to
our pleasure, but to the terror of kindly disposed old
ladies, who watched us from the shores or steamboats.
These boyish excursions bred in me a spirit of confi-
dence in the sea qualities of these boats that I have
always remembered.

In my experience, they are far ahead of any
style of hunting boat yet discovered, except in thickly
tangled wild rice—then they are bunglesome, and of
little account, because of their great width. They
are not a speedy boat, but row easy; their shortness
rather holds them back, and they do not follow the
stroke like longer boats.

We see advertised “hunting skiffs,’ ‘“bow-facing

THE SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL. SRilS E

oars ” ; then a hunter of experience will write on * jump-
ing mallards” by paddling. All very good, provided one
can get nothing better. But these methods can hardly
be classed in the category of skill, when compared with
sculling. As an illustration, let a man come down
some winding stream in a boat, with bow-facing oars,
or paddling his boat. If the stream is crooked and
narrow, with overhanging willows extending from the
bank into the main stream, then he will jump a good
many birds, coming on them suddenly around sharp
bends, driving them out from the edges when they are
in the grass, smart-weed, or among the willow twigs,
or along sloughs where the bottom grass, flags, or wild
rice is high, and the channel narrow. Under such con-
ditions he will meet with good success, but the seull-
boat will work equally as well there. Then change
the conditions into a wide running stream, where the
eye can see the water in an unbroken line for a half
mile, perhaps a full mile; where the ducks are feeding,
preening and sitting on the bank, basking in the sun-
shine. The hunter sees them, they see him. He can-
not approach them by land; it is impossible to do so by
water, because they will notice him long before he gets
near enough to shoot. He takes in the situation at a
glance, knows he cannot get near them, and deliber-
ately routs them out. On such an occasion, note the
sculler coming down, half reclining in his boat, the bow
and sides trimmed with willow twigs and grass, to cor-
respond with the shores he is passing. He comes
down almost in mid-stream. The ducks see the object,
but there is nothing alarming about it, nothing notice-
able; the little of the hull that can be seen looks like
a floating log, and the willows on top like sprout-

212 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ing roots. The ducks feed on in quiet contentment,
until the hunter is close enough to fire both barrels ef-
fectively. Again, take some overflowed prairie, where
the back water from a neighboring stream is coursing
over the ground, entirely submerging the grass in places,
leaving ridges where pin-tails, mallards, and widgeon
love to sit. When one can see them lighting, hear
their quacking, and get a glimpse of the long necks of
the watchful pin-tail, as it stands up showing its grace-
ful proportions. All duck-hunters know the seeming
impossibility of approaching such a place, and yet I
can recall one bright afternoon when the timber, the
river and the wild rice were deserted, when my com-
panion and myself seulled into such a place, and lying
in the bottom of our boat with grass sprinkled over bow
and sides, we bagged fifty-eight in a few hours. Then
again, coming down a stream, jumping ducks in any
but a scull-boat, look at the position of the hunter and
the shape of his boat. If he is rowing or paddling he
cannot keep down out of sight. Usually he is sitting,
and although he may think he is hid, he is far from it,
and he can only get such shots as will be presented
when the ducks fly from the willows; besides, his boat
looms up high on the water, and is plainly seen, even
if the shooter is hid. And then in a majority of so
called duck-boats, he dare not shoot, except straight
ahead, for fear of the recoil upsetting the boat. In a
seull, he can shoot in any position, sitting, kneeling, or
even standing, and he need never fear an accident, for
I can assure him it is impossible to upset one of these
boats. There is no feeling of insecurity in one of them,
when one would constantly be afraid of something hap-
pening to cause an upset in the ordinary hunting-skiff.

THE SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL. 2s

Take in running water in the timber, with an ordi-
nary skiff, there is a clanging of oars, you row a few
strokes, and then jerk them in. First one, then the
other pushes against a tree with an oar, then pulls a
limb to help along; then grasps one tree to keep you
from whacking against another. This is the way the
ordinary boat goes through the timber, making a racket
that scares every bird within a quarter of a mile. Note
the difference with a scull-boat, going through the same
place. The sculler in the stern sees all before him.
The short boat is always under control. He guides it
through seemingly impassable places, makes quick turns,
avoids all obstructions, and moves along hour after
hour without making a noise or hitting a tree.

It is remarkable how these boats can be handled by
an expert. To show how noiselessly they can be run,
I once sculled toward a mallard drake that was sitting
on an old pile of drift-wood, half asleep. I tried to see
how near I could approach him, and actually knocked
him off the drift when the bow of the boat struck where
he was sitting. It was amusing to see how frightened
he was. Another instance to show how nicely one can
hunt with these boats when others fail. A few years
ago, in running ice, three of us bagged in one day 112
mallards and six geese. These were killed in the
middle of the day, right in the channel of the Missis-
sippi. At this same time, hunters in the islands were
getting no shooting at all. The hunter in a scull-boat
has an advantage over all others. He is generally in
the open river, where he can see the flight on all sides,
und mark the spot where ducks light in the pond, tim-
ber or rice, and is soon among them with decoys, and
shoots them in that manner.

214 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

The sculler must be constantly on the watch, and,
when coming downstream, the formation of the timber
or the ground shows him that he is approaching a pond,
bayou, slough, bed of rice, of smart-weed, or willow
flash. He must drift or scull slowly, keeping the bow
with blind headed toward the point he intends making ;
for the best blind is on the bow, and it is the most per-
fect shield.

No man can make a good duck-sculler unless he is
thoroughly posted on the habits of the duck. He must
know when and how to approach them, and to read
their thoughts as they sit on the banks, or float on the
water. This he does by their actions, and the expert
can tell almost every time, long before he gets near
them, whether or not he will get a shot, by the way
they act while he is approaching them.

The scull-boat demands the best of care, and must
not leak a drop. The bottom is half filled with dry hay ;
the sculler sits there for hours on the hay, and the boat
must be in perfect condition. This requires careful
attention, and when not in use, the boat should be
kept under shelter, and thoroughly looked over and
painted at least once a year—it is time and labor well
spent.

How to trim a scull-boat for timber and overflow
shooting, I have fully explained in the article * Scull-
ing ducks on the Mississippi;” how to trim for ice
shooting, in the chapter on “ Canada Goose shooting.”
And now that you may see how we scull them in the
wild rice, and where tiny lakes abound, imagine yourself
comfortably seated on the hay in the bottom of the boat
while Iam both engineer and pilot. On the bow, we
have placed a goodly sized portion of an old muskrat

THE SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL. 215

house, and are working our way slowly through the
crooked channel, made deep in places by the submarine
inhabitants, whose houses we have despoiled for a blind.
"Tis in the fall, and as we go on unheard and unseen,
reed-birds flutter up at our sides, jack-snipe utter
their “ Scaipe, Scaipe,’ and pitch down, alighting after
a short flight. On the muddy shore, we see yellow legs
teetering and wading; while again on the higher banks,
cattle come down to drink, golden plover run and stop,
then run and stop again, with indecision, yet with the
greatest regularity. Over our heads there flies time and
again great flocks of blackbirds, chirping and chatter-
ing, the dusky brown of the female looking subdued in
color, when placed side by side with the glossy black
of its mate, as he swerves up and down with graceful
undulations, at all times showing the deep bright red
on his wings fringed with scarlet and gold. We notice
the king-fisher, as it goes along crying “ chir-r-r-r, chir-
rr,” then poises itself over the water, and drops like
a bullet, disappearing for a second beneath the surface
of the water, then springs up with a minnow in its bill
and alighting on an old dead tree, looks at us as if to
say, “ wasn’t that done slick ?”’

The open lake before us discloses its surface thickly
dotted with muskrat houses and the shores lined with
rushes. As the boat skims along, the pond-lily leaves
lie flat on the water at either side, and the lake ap-
pears to be in possession, if not in control of mud-hens.
See how they swim from us! their bright blue bills
looking almost white in the sunlight. And look at
them get up! It seems so hard for them to rise from
the stream, and they fly from us splattering the water,
kicking it from them, half flying, half running on the

216 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

surface, while they leave in their wake tiny waves that
soon dissolve on the smooth bosom of the lake. We
creep continuously along. The boat scarcely moves.
It does seem, as if we ought to get up ducks here;
everything is favorable to it, and—Aha! We both saw
it at the same time,—down at our left in that thin grass a
head arose, but for an instant, then sunk down. We
know there are ducks there. We both sink lower into
the boat; you lean forward, peering through the top of
the muskrat blind, where we made a slight peep-hole
with bended rushes. The boat goes a trifle faster. Right
in front of us the mud-hens swim, just keeping clear of
the bow. The ducks are on a narrow ridge of the lake,
just out of gun shot from either shore. Look! Look!
Feast your eyes on the heads and necks to be seen
through the straggling grass, the pin-tails, and widgeon
and a wild lot they are. The most difficult bird in the
world to scull. They are looking at us, all suspicion,
They are wondering what this muskrat house, so far
out in the deep water is doing. Hear them chatter!
We are about a hundred yards away and must now
barely move the boat. They don’t act right, are un-
easy and I’m afraid they will—There! Just as I ex-
pected! All this work for nothing! Away they go!
How we wish we were near them. I do like to shoot
pin-tails, because—* Sh—down ! down! Don’t you see
him, standing up right at the point where the others
flew from.” Strange he didn’t notice you when you
raised up to see those flying away. Isn’t he a beauty!
A male pin-tail. How he stands up, watching the float.
Just look at his elegant position, standing as he is. He
is frightened. Still, his curiosity has gotten the better
of him; his long slender neck, and clean-cut body, with

THE SCIENCE OF SCULLING WILD FOWL. Pal ar

that spiked tail makes him look like a thoroughbred,
and he is one too. Isn’t he grand, with his white breast
so conspicuous in the grass? Watch him closely ; when
he starts he will jump straight up. Hold well over him,
he is about sixty yards from us. See! How uneasy he
is getting; watch him turning around; don’t take your
eyes off him. He is afraid to fly now,—No! There he
goes! Give it to him! Bang, bang, goes both barrels.
No need of the second, for your first did the work.
You pick him up, and holding him by the bill at arm’s
length, admire his handsome neck, with its greenish-
brown and purple-red, the snow-white of his breast, the
slight cream color on his back, and the deep black so
profusely scattered on his wings. Gently stroking his
feathers, you lay him in the boat. You involuntarily
sigh, as if it were a relief to draw one good long breath
after this exciting time has past, and you say: “If I
could only scull!”
no patent on it; there is nothing so intricate about it

And why can you not? There is

that practice and patience will not overcome. There is
no law written or unwritten, sacred or profane, that
prohibits your learning, and if you will only learn, you
will never regret it. For time and again opportunities
will be presented when other hunters are sitting around
camp, waiting for the evening flight. With a scull-
boat you can have constant shooting throughout the
entire day, in open water, along the edges of wild rice,
among the willows and in places inaccessible to every
hunter unless he is sculling, and my experience has
proven that take two hunters, equally skilled as
shots, set them hunting in high water, and the one
with the scull will kill twice as many as the one with-
out it.

218 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

If you are a young hunter, learn by all means to
seull; if an experienced one, all the more should you
learn to scull, then you will feel your education is com-
pleted, and you will be entitled toa diploma as a grad-
uate in wild fowl shooting.

CHAPTER XXIV.

PIN-TAIL DUCK—SPRIG-TAIL DUCK.
(Anas Acuta.)

THE pin-tail, or as it is frequently called, the sprig-tail
or sharp-tail duck, is one almost as familiar to Western
shooters as the mallard. They are a particularly hand-
some duck, and their graceful proportions are admired
more than any other of the duck species. They are
swift flyers, when inclined to be so, and their long,
rakish contour leads one to instantly decide that they
have the requisite embodiments of all that is necessary
for great speed. As they stand on some grassy knoll,
with their long necks stretched up, showing the per-
fect proportions of their long, oval-shaped bodies,
terminating at a sharp point at the end of their tails,

Zen) WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

they have the wild, restless appearance of a race-horse,
and seem as if they ouly waited the opportunity to show
the speed that in them les.

It is not possessed of the many brilliant and varie-
gated colors of some other ducks, notably the mallard,
and the summer duck, the latter being a bird of most
brilliant plumage. Its variegated feathers, conspicu-
ous by their lustre, blend so prettily together. We
have often been lost in admiration, as we have watched
a pair of these beauties swimming around some muskrat
house, or on the verge of an old drift pile, calling so
softly, so melodiously to each other, or whistling absent-
mindedly as they skim off bugs, seeds and larve, or nip
off the sprouting buds, as they glide so easily through
the calm waters.

The male pin-tail is much more pleasing to the eye
than its mate, being larger and finer looking in every
way. The soft gray of the female is subdued in color,
when brought into strong comparison with the dusky
slate, purple and white of her majestic companion, as
he stands so alertly at her side, his tall head reaching
far above that of the largest mallard. Her slight,
trim form, slender neck and long wings denote that
while she may be his inferior in beauty, she is his equal,
if not superior in speed. And yet with all the power
that nature has given them to make them among the
swiftest of wild fowl, it is very seldom indeed that their
swiftness of flight is brought into action. They much
prefer depending on their bright, sharp eyes, and their
selection of open and exposed places to insure them
safety and protection. They are frequenters of the
Western States, and are, one can truthfully say, spring
ducks. They are with us in the fall, but their numbers

PIN-TAIL DUCK. 294

are limited. In the spring they come in countless
thousands, and are the first ducks to arrive. Still they
are not premature in their coming, for their barometer
is so infallible that when they have once put in an
appearance, experience warrants us in feeling that
spring has really come, and the cold weary days of
winter are over.

When the snow melts and little rivulets are running
over the prairie forming broad open sheets of water,
observable from all points, then these wary birds come,
and alighting far out in the open, beyond the possibility
of harm, sit and chatter the long day through. When
the hunter, with the sky in the background, looms
up plainly to view, they see him; he may try to
get near them, but it is useless, for they fly long be-
fore he can get within gunshot of them. Their food
consists of seed, acorns, corn and waste materials that
the spring freshets float over the low lands. They are
high-flyers, indeed the greatest sky-scrapers of the duck
species. When they are frightened while feeding or
resting, they rise to a height of from 80 to 100 yards,
and then fly over the low lands and timber, just out of
gun range. I have seen them flying this way for hours.
How tantalizing they are! The hunter may stand in
his blind, or lie concealed in some grassy spot; flock
after flock will pass over him, just so high that he can-
not reach them. They are not silent company, for they
keep up an incessant chattering and whistling. It is
not possible to illustrate on paper just how this chatter-
ing is done, but a faint conception of it may be had by
saying as fast as one can, ‘ Chuck-a-chuck-a-chuck,”
repeating at least three times, the tongue must be glib,
and it must run under 160 pounds pressure, as the

222 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

velocity to be acquired is very great. After practicing
a while, so he feels he can do it with rapidity, let his
wife try it, and her first attempt will convince him how
exceedingly slow he is. As the huntersees them flying
over him, a variety of conflicting emotions flit through
his mind. He believes patience is a monument of
virtue, and 7s patient. He weakens as time passes, and
not one comes near enough to kill; still they go over
him, chattering and whistling, or turn their heads
slightly and look down on him, as he feels, in derision.
Getting desperate he begins shooting at them ; shot
after shot is fired, but without effect. He gets mad,
and wishes he had a gun that would kill a mile—no dif-
ference what it weighed. But his desperation and
disgust nerve him to greater deeds of valor, and by
shooting from 16 to 20 feet ahead of a flock, he scratches
one down, wing tipped. No sooner does the bird start
to leave the flock, than the hunter starts for it like a
race-horse. When he gets where the bird fell, he finds
feathers but no bird. About this time the air becomes
blue, and a heavy sulphuric vapor permeates the sur-
roundings. He is out of breath from running. Accident-
ally looking back, he sees alarge flock of pin-tails swoop
right over his blind, not fifty feet high, the best op-
portunity of the day. He feels he could have killed
half a dozen had he been there. Such luck! How he
wishes he had not chased this crawling cripple. He
sees the grass move slightly, pounces down upon it,
and drags out the lost bird; clutches it around the
neck, gives it a preliminary squeeze, whije the poor
bird makes a choking quack, then gazes at him in as-
tonishment and affright. The hunter feels the impos-
sibility of wreaking all his pent up revenge on this lone

PIN-TAIL DUCK. 223

bird, so deliberately wrings its neck, and then throws it
at his feet in the blind.

In spite of their extreme wariness and their propen-
sity to fly so high, they decoy nicely. They are on
the best of terms with the mallard family, and at times
travel with them, feed with them and roost with them.
The pin-tail decoys are so neutral in appearance that it
is not advisable to use them; besides, they must be
natural, and to create that naturalness their necks
must be slim. This means constant accidents by break-
ing necks off. As they associate so much with mallards,
mallard decoys are the best to use, and as one will
usually be shooting in shallow waters, it is better to
stick up some of the dead pin-tails for decoys. How
this is done is fully shown in the article entitled
“Shooting Mallards in a Snow Storm.” Don’t be in
too great a hurry to shoot, for they love dearly to circle
around before lighting, and will stay up high in the air,
fifty to seventy-five yards. When they do this, be calm,
and reserve your fire, for unless they see you they will
come down. All this time they will be whistling. Im-
itate their whistle; it is very simple, and always do it
immediately after they do, as near like theirs as you
can. Whistle often, throw feeling and expression in
your tone; you want them to come, so be very solicit-
ous in your call. Don’t move in your blind, for their
eyes are very sharp, and they will see you. When you
fire the first barrel, look sharp, for they will be about
thirty feet higher before you are aware and ready for
the second. They are noted for being high jumpers,
and will jump perpendicularly from twenty to thirty
feet when frightened at the report of a gun. They
are not hard to capture on the water, as when wounded

224 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

they usually swim with heads high up, or will tire
themselves out by making one or two long dives. It is
best to shoot them as soon as you see they are crippled.
Try at all times to drop them into the water,—it is the
surest way to get them, forif dropped in the wild rice or
high rushes you cannot find them without a good dog,
and it will test a dog’s endurance and strength unneces-
sarily,—hence if you can shoot them so that they will
fall into the open water it is decidedly the better way.

Always be on the alert, watching for them, for there
is no telling when they may drop down, as if from the
clouds, or what direction they will come from. If your
blind is in the timber, your view will be obstructed for
low-flying birds, so whistle their call occasionally,
whether or not birds are in sight. You will find them
quite erratic at times. Some will approach your decoys,
circle and sail around, then when perhaps seventy five
yards away, Jump back in mid air twenty to thirty feet,
as if thrown by aspring, fly away, come back again, and
finally light outside your decoys, just out of range:
when they do this rout them out, for swimming around
as they will be, they will call other ducks away from
your stationary decoys. At other times, they will
decoy so nicely that they just won’t keep away,—down
they will come from extreme heights, with a waving,
rocking motion, first the tip of one wing pointing ver-
tically, then the other, as the duck reverses its position.
This motion is nearly similar to a boy’s pointing his
right hand and arm wp, lus left to the ground, then re-
versing his position backward and forward, giving a
peculiar swinging motion to his head and body, all the
time pumping one arm up, while the other must at the
same time go down.

PIN-TAIL DUCK. 225

The time to shoot at them is just as they are flutter-
ing to light. They are then stationary and easy to hit;
but after your first barrel is fired, look out for high and
lofty tumbling, for they will rise with a jump. So be
prepared, and hold high over them, and give them the
second barrel as soon as you can get aim. Use strong
powder, and 1 1-8 oz. No. 6 chilled shot, and if you hold
right, they can be killed forty and fifty yards with choke-
bored guns.

I do not believe there is any duck that frequents
Western waters, that gives the hunter greater satisfac-
tion in shooting than these birds, principally because
of their wild, wary natures. It takes strategy to kill
them, and after one has become proficient in finding,
decoying and shooting them, he feels that his utmost
skill will be taxed to make a good day’s “bag.” Just
before flying from land or water, they walk or swim
together, and raking shots, doing great execution, may
be had. This is also the case when they fly up. They
then huddle together, and several may be killed at one
discharge of the gun. Should the hunter attempt
flight-shooting at ‘ travelers,” his gun will be thorough-
ly tested. He should use nothing smaller than a ten-
bore,—that should be heavy, full choked, loaded with 6
dms. powder, 1 oz. No. 2 or 3 shot, and he should
hold from 10 to 20 feet ahead of them.

They afford delicious eating, feeding as they do on
rich, nutritious and substantial food, and are invaria-
bly in excellent condition for the table.

Anas Acuta. The pin-tailduck is twenty-six inches in
length, and two feet ten inches in extent; the bill is a

dusky lead color: irides, dark hazel; head and half the
15

226 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ueck, pale brown, each side of the neck marked with a
band of purple violet, bordering the white ; hind part of
the upper half of the neck, black, bordered on each side
by a strip of white, which spreads over the lower part of
the neck before; sides of the breast and upper part of
the back, white, thickly and elegantly marked with
transverse, undulating lines of black, here and there
tinged with pale buff; throat and middle part of the
belly, white, tinged with cream : flanks, finely pencilled
with waving lines; vent, white: under tail covert
black; lesser wing coverts, brown ash: greater, the
same tipped with orange, below which is a speculum, or
beauty spot of rich, golden green, bordered below
with a band of black, and another of white: primaries,
dusky brown: tertials, long, black, edged with white.
and tinged with rust; rump and tail coverts, pale ash,
centered with dark brown; tail, greatly pointed, the
two middle tapering feathers being full five inches
longer than the others, and black, the rest brown ash,
edged with white; legs, a pale lead color. The female
has crown of a dark brown color, neck of a dull brown-
ish white, thickly speckled with dark brown; breast
and belly, pale brownish white, interspersed with
white; back and roof of the neck above. black, each
feather elegantly waved with broad lines of brownish
white; these wavings become rufous on the seapulars :
vent white, spotted with dark brown: tail, dark brown,
spotted with white; the two middle tail feathers half
an inch longer than the others. The sprig-tail is an
elegantly formed, long-bodied duck, the neck longer
and more slender than most others. The male weighs
2|bs.; the female about 1 3-4 Ibs.

TWO SPORTS; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. 227

CHAPTER XXV.

TWO SPORTS; OR, OUT FOR A LARK.

They were not scientific hunters,
Their experience had just begun ;

But they were a couple of thoroughbreds,
And out to have some fun.

In treating as fully as I have in other parts of this
book of the many little things so necessary to bear in
mind, so essential always to remember, to bring success
to the hunter, it seems to me that should I allow the
opportunity to pass without calling the reader’s attention
to the other side, and not expose the faults and dis-
close the imperfections that are so glaring in some in-
experienced hunters, that I would be remiss in duty, as
well as foregoing a very pleasant task to myself. In
doing this, I shall not pick out those who are entirely
without knowledge of the handling of guns, or who
have never hunted; but rather choose those who have
been out at times, are very ordinary shots, possessed of
happy-go-lucky dispositions, and are out to have a good
time.

We will take two such persons, individuals that one
daily meets with. One of them an American, a youth
of perhaps twenty-two, whose whole life has been passed
in some small city, who has been brought into sharp con-
tact with the struggles of the world, and who feels well
satisfied with himself; in fact,is sure that he has for-
gotten what would afford an excellent education to

DPR WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

et eh

men old enough to be his father. He is a recognized
authority among his chums on such sports as dog-fights
and pugilism, on base-ball, billiards and boating; but
claims no great knowledge of the secrets of hunting
wildfowl. At the time we write, he is clerking ina
grocery store, receiving the magnificent salary of ten
dollars a week. He is an adept in his business, as he is
at everything he undertakes, and can accomplish with
ease the difficult task of wrapping up a dollar’s worth
of sugar, without spilling a grain, while at the same
time, with one eye, he watches the boy trying to get his
hand in the apple barrel, and with the other, slyly winks
at the giggling school girls as they pass by the open door.

The other isa young man perhaps of twenty, stalwart
in appearance, light hair, and honest blue eyes, one you
would implicitly trust. He is an apprentice, learning
the cigar-makers trade; a German, who has been in this
country but a year or two, and who speaks English im-
perfectly, and who cannot resist the impulse to occasion-
ally throw in German words to help himself out when
embarrassed, or in doubt as to what he should say in
English. They are fast friends, their stores adjoining.

The duck season is at hand, numerous reports of the
great quantity of ducks have often been told them.
They resolve to go hunting. The American is called
“ Jim.” This is a very simple abbreviation of his first
name. The German, “ Hans,” in Deutschland, they call
him “ Johann.” The day is set; Jim is to furnish the
dog, Hans the eatables, the balance of the outfit they
are to rent. At the appointed hour, daylight, Hans
waits the coming of his friend. Jim is a trifle late,
caused he says by not being able to find his brother’s
rubber boots, the brother having hidden them in antici-

TWO SPORPS ; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. 229

pation of making such a trip himself. At the fisherman’s
they pick out their boat. Hans says: ‘Take vone mit
dight row-locks, pound mit ledder.” “No,” replies Jim,
“ We want loose oars ; that’s the kind I always use. Here
Sport, come here!” At this call a black dog, half cur,
half mastiff, runs briskly forward, and Jim helps him
into the boat. Hans stood looking admiringly at the
boat, and said: “Shim! dot’s a nice poat you bick
ouwit.”

“Yes,” says Jim, “she’s a daisy. I’m a little gone on
color, and that bright red with white on her sides is just
_ my style.”

Hans appeared in great distress about something, and
remarking: “ Donner und blitzen! I haf der grub for-
gotten,” away he went home after it. Jim was too
much disgusted to say much, and muttered to himself
something about somebody who couldn’t see after four
o'clock.

They were now off, gaily they rowed down the stream,
Jim in the stern, Hans at the oars. ‘ Gurracious!”
exclaimed Hans, “ I vonder phwat der madder mit der
visherman vas ? See how he bumps his arm oop and
down. Must pe a pig vire in town.” “ Pll bet we have
forgotten something,” said Jim. ‘* Where’s my gun?”

Sure enough, the gun had been left on the bank. Each
blamed the other, They rowed back, nearly a quarter
ofa mile, against a strong current. The fisherman
handed them the gun with a smile, and joked them be-
cause of their forgetfulness. Again they started, headed
for the *“ Docia,” seven miles down stream. At the
mouth they saw ducks flying in all directions, but none
came near them. That red boat wasn’t as enticing to
them as it was to Jim, and the thumping oars warned all

230) WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ducks ahead to look out, and they would keep jumping
out in front of the hunters, from 80 to 200 yards. Jim
would grab his gun, and say; “Stop rowing, Hans ;”
but the ducks would always veer just out of reach.

“ Mighty funny!” said Jim, “ seems to me I never
saw them so wild, did you?”

“ I told you vot,” said Hans,‘ I dink ve made a great
mishtake dot ve didn’t some degoys along pring; den
ye could half segreted oursellufs in der pushes, or grass,
and knocked ,m.”’

‘Bah! on your decoys,” said Jim with disgust,
“don’t talk decoys to me, they are a fraud, a nuisance.
I had some with me once. They got all tangled together
in the boat, and I nearly froze my hands in picking them
up:

“ Vell, it may be,” said Hans, “ but I notice the ferry
pest dug shooters use them and lods of them. Lets go
somevare, for mine pack is almost gebroken mit rowing.
Pesides, your hunding tog its using me fora pillow, und
if he don’t quit it, I will him der poat throw ouwit.”

* Well,” said Jim, * here we are at Mud Lake. Shove
the boat in the grass, tumble our shells all together in
that shell box. We want them handy. Its now eleven
o'clock, and we will get some good shooting. Wish the
grass was a little higher, so as to hide the boat better ,
but then, they won’t notice that. Say Hans, what did
you wear that light colored stiffhat for? It makes you
look like a dude in a wilderness, and the ducks will
surely see you. Your hair is flaxen: take off your hat,
then they will take you for a bunch of dried grass, or a
dead pond-lily.”

“Say Shim,” said Hans, “ Why did you vare dot plack
hat? it makes you look like a durdle in a mut-buddle ;

’

TWO SPORTS; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. Zon

and I dink der dugs half you yourselluf these many
dimes seen already. Dake off your hat, your hair is
ret, yoost der right color, und dugs vill dake you for a
big shesnud, or a punch of veeds growing in der vater.”’

They both saw the necessity of doing something, or
they would get no shooting, and Jim said, * Come, Hans,
we must get out of this. Let’s leave the boat, go away
from it, and hide in the grass, and what we then kill
we can get.”

So they went, selected a point and waited. Hans
took oft his hat, bowed politely to Jim, and laid the
hat on the ground. Jim, not to be outdone in polite-
ness, returned the compliment. The dog, not to be an
unobserved observer, turned around twice, and laid
down on both hats, sinking them into the soft mud.
Ducks were moving quite freely, and had these hunters
had their wits about them, they would have seen ducks
in great numbers, pitching into the swamp about a mile
from them: but they gave no thought to this, and only
expected what chance directed to them. They had
iired a good many times, but killed none. ‘They blamed
the guns, the ammunition,—everything but themselves :
but now, both firing into a large flock, one was winged,
tipped and fell about 80 yards off in the grass. The
dog saw it, and away he went for it, urged by Jim’s
voice. He was gone some time; the hunters thought
it strange he did not return, and each moment expected
him to emerge from the tall grass with the bird. He
came, but without the duck. ‘The bird was winged,”
said Jim, “ he couldn’t strike its trail, and couldn’t find
it.” Perhaps not, but his sheepish look and downeast
eye showed he had found something. This was cor-
roborated by the few small feathers on his lips, which

232 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Jim didn’t notice. Hans did, and said, “Shim! I anr
dired of sthanding sdill, oxguse me a few minutes, und
I vill redurn.” .

Hans then went where the duck fell, and on his re-
turn said: “ Yoost as I eggspecded! Der dog has eden
der dug, insites, fedders und all!”

“ What!” said Jim, “eaten the duck? I can’t be-
lieve it. Oh, fatal mistake of mine! I brought hin:
away without his breakfast !”

“ Dot's all right,” said Hans, * But I told you now,
und don’t you forget it, dot ven I knocks a dug down,
I vill go after id mine own selluf, and you bedder vatch
dot tog. Heis a bad vone. He is a dug-eater from
vay pack.”

“Tam mighty sorry I brought him along,” said Jim,
“but we will watch him closely. I knew he was a
terror on tame chickens. Have seen him kill tame
ducks, and complaints have been made of his sucking
egos; but I really thought he would be ail right out
with us. It’s too late now, but let me once catch him
in flagrante delicto, as the lawyers say, and we will
have a circus.”

A pair of mallards swung over them. Both fired
quickly and simultaneously at the drake, and it fell
dead in the water. The dog started for him. Jim ex-
citedly yelled: “Come here! you black whelp.” But
he didn’t come worth a cent, and Jim rushed to the
water’s edge, grabbing the dog by the tail, and suc-
ceeded in keeping him from going after the bird. Hans,
with smiling face, said to Jim, ** Didn’t I knock him ?”
“What?” replied Jim, “ you knock him? Why man,
you didn’t shoot. I killed him myself, there was but
one report, that was from my gun.”

TWO SPORTS; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. 233

“Eh! vat’s dot you are giving me?” said Hans, his
face red with passion. “Look oud, I am cuvick dem-
pered. You vant to make me ankry? You mean to
insinuvate dot I vas a liar? You rascal, you owner of
a dug-eating dog; you willian. Come from this mud
oud und I vill bound your face into a shelly, so dot
your own mudder vont know you, you plasted Ameri-
caner.”

At this time Jim could hardly hold in. He threw
his gun into the mud, sawed the air violently with his
arms, his fists clenched, and said :

“You don’t have to ask me out to meet you twice.
Come on! Come on!” And working himself into a
frenzy, punched forward, as if hittingan imaginary foe :
then he would jump back, as if escaping a return blow.

“ What shall it be, three rounds, Marquis of Queens-
berry? Or toa finish, London Prize Ring?”

“Every feller for himselluf, Gooseperry rules. Hit
me vonce! Or do some liddle ding to make me real
ankry! and den I vill knock your ret head from your
shoulders off.”

Jim made a feint with his left, shot out his right
straight from the shoulder, hitting Hans a terrible blow
on the ear. This thoroughly aroused Hans, and like
an enraged bull he lowered his head, darted forward,
and by sheer strength, carried Jim to the earth in the
soft mud and rushes, landing on top. Holding
Jim’s hands, and sitting astride of him, he exclaimed :
“¢ Ah-ha ! vish your friends in the vourd vetrd could see
you now. Take dot!” and suiting the action to the
word, he hit Jim in the face.

“Foul! Foul!” yelled Jim, “ youhave lost the fight,
you hit me when I am down.”

204 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

“ Yah! Yah! Call fowl und chicken; call the pur-
reds of der vield and der peasts of der air, you doant get
avay from me yoost die samee.” Andhe hit him again
and again. Hans felt avenged now, and being cooled
off, jumped hastily from his opponent’s prostrate body,
and said, “Shim! vots de use of you und I fighting?
Led’s be friends. Honestly! I shod at dot dug.”

“So did I,” said Jim, “but don’t you ever try to
bluff me again by talking fight, for you can’t do it. I
ain't that kind of a fellow. You won the first round
on a foul, and we will let it drop till some other time.
Tell you what I will do with you, Dutchy; we will
draw cuts, the one getting the shortest has credit for
killmg the duck.” Jim held the cuts. Hans pulled
the shortest, but Jim slyly nips off the end of the
remaining cut with his thumb, and shows up that he
won.

“Funny,” says Hans, “but ven I traw mit you I
alvays lose.” Very funny,” replies Jim, arching his
eyebrows.

‘“« Here, Sport,” said Jim, and turning to Hans, said,
* [am going to see if he wont bring that duck.” He
walked to the edge of the water, threw a clump of dirt
out near the duck, and exclaimed ; “ Go get it, Sport.”
The dog look inquiringly at Jim, and he patting him
kindly on the head said again, ‘ Go get it, Sport, that’s
a nice boy.”

“That ought to fedch him,” said Hans; “ your tone
vas so mild, your woice so sveet, yoost like honey.”

“ Oh, let up,” replied Jim, “ Don’t guy me, I have
got enough to attend to now with this infernal dog.”
He kept throwing clods, and at last the dog swam past
the duck, then completely around it, and finally started

TWO SPORTS; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. 235

for the shore withit. Jim was delighted. Hans looked
nonplussed.

‘“* How’s that!” said Jim,” ain’t that nice, ain’t he
a dandy?”

“ Valk pack,” said Hans, “und make him pring it
to you ofer landt. Dot vill deach him to redrieve from
landt.”

Jim did so, but on reaching land the dog immediate-
ly commenced to bite, then eat the duck. In an in-
stant Jim was at his side, and had his fingers in his
collar. “You will, willyou?” said he, and he began
kicking him. You infernal whelp, Ill teach you.”
With each word he gave him a kick; the dog howled,
and tried to get away, but it was useless, he was held
tight, and was licked and pounded until Jim quit from
sheer exhaustion, and aided by a parting kick, the
dog ran howling away.

Hans enjoyed it, and said: “ A vileago you said if you
effer gaught dot tog again, in vragrant delic—doan’t
remember yoost vat—dot I would a cirgus see. Dink
you moost have gaught him dot vay. Mooch opliged
for der cirgus.”

“Tam going to eat,” said Jim.

* Ziemlich,” replied Hans.

* Open up your basket, Hans, and lets get at it. What
have you got, anyway ?”

“ Here ve are. Dis vas proat und putter ; nechts,
pologna ; nechts, liverwurst ; nechst, Schweitzer ,
und ledst, limpurgur kase.”

* Oh, my! how it smells,” said Jim.

“ Dot ish zo,” said Hans, * but it tastes mighty goot.
I neffer see hmpurgur shees midout I dink of ashoke on
my vader. Neffer heard it? No? Vant me to tell it,

236 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

eh? Fill your handts mit pologna and sheese up, und
I vill broceed. Mine vader you moost rememper is a
wery imbortandt man, ezspecially in his own mindt.
Vone day he vas hoongry und dry, und tropped him-
selluf a restaurant in. He seated himselluf at a dable,
bicks a baper up, drows his veet upon der dable
and says toder vaiter: ‘Ich vill skooner peer,grakers und
limpurger sheese haben.’ Der vaiter prings ’em all.
Mine vater smell der sheese und say: ‘ Here, vaiter !
take dot sheese pack, it vas doo young ; pring me some
dot vas old und strong, dot schmell? Der vaiter prings
more sheese ; mine vater geeps his feet on der dable up
und reads. Der vaiter he prings olt, strong sheese ;
my fater schmell itagain, und say: ‘ Dry it again, vait-
er, dot vast not strong genough, Der vaiter then he
vas mat und say :‘Sheneral ! -—he call him Sheneral,
pecause he vas so proudt— ‘Sheneral! it machts
nichts to me, dot you vas a big man, dat you vas
treasurer of der Liedertafel und bresident of der
Saengerbund soziety, but der rebutation of my poss
is at stake, und in vairness to him, you should dake
your veet from der dable off, und give der scheese a
shance.”

Jim had been holding in as long as possible, and at the
conclusion of the story rolled over on the ground and
fairly yelled with laughter. The point in the story,
Hans’ quaint manner of telling it, part English, part
German, his hesitancy at times for the right word, his
sudden adaptation of some German expression to aid
him, made it very interesting, and amusing.

So busily engaged are they, that a new-comer aj:
proaches them unobserved. The dog gives warning; in
looking up they see a farmer boy, aged perhaps fourteen.

TWO SPORTS ; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. Zon

his pants in his boots, faded clothes, his hat old, gray and
misshapen, over his shoulders an army musket, sadly
out of proportion to the youthful hunter. The civil
salutations of the day are passed. The boy would
move on, but our friends will it otherwise, for, suspend-
ed from his back, they count eight mallards. At once
they resolve themselves into a committee of two, and
are fit subjects for “treason, strategy and _ spoils.”
Each hastily runs his hand into his pockets, mentally
takes an inventory of his cash on hand, looks askance
at the other, silently winks and all is understood.
Having during dinner partaken liberally of “ Bud-
weiser,” they are extremely affectionate and loquacious.
“ Young man,” says Jim, “we are very glad to see you,
we are just taking a little lunch, preparatory to start-
ing out, won’t you join us, and eat something ?”

“ Yes, yes, mine leber freund,” joins in Hans, “ koom,
sitzen sie hier, und etwas zu essen haben.”

* For Heaven’s sake,” exclaims Jim anxiously, ** don’t
talk Dutch to the boy, or you will frighten him away ;
he don’t understand you.”

The boy smiled and sat down, began slowly eating,
casting quizzical glances at his hosts, as if wondering
what next.

“What nice ducks you have, and so large, perfect
beauties, you must be an excellent shot,” said Jim.

“Tll pet you he vas a dandy,” chipped in Hans.
* You can dell it py the color of his eye. He looks vie
Shurman poys, like they look in Shurmany. Half you
effer pen in Shurmany, young man? No? Then you
half neffer lived; go there, und grow mit the gountry
up. Dot’s the poss blace. I vish I vas dere now.”
Then his sweet tenor voice started: “Das ist der

238 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Deutcher’s Vaterland,”’ and winking sleepily at Jim,
leaned back against a tree.

“Well; I must be going,” exclaimed the boy.
“ Good-bye, gentlemen, much obliged for the dinner.”
He had got about twenty yards from the hunters before
Hans missed him.

“ Don’t you see? Don’t you see, Shim? Dot poy
is going off mit our dugs? Schtop him! schtop him!”

“ Keep quiet,” Jim answers, ‘‘ 1 don’t intend he shall
getaway. Give me your money.” He calls the boy back
To throw off suspicion, he slips Hans’ gloves from his
pocket, and tells him he forgot his gloves. The boy
says they are not his. He then apologizes for calling
him back, and says: “ What are you going to do with
your ducks ?” ‘Take ’em home,” replied the boy.

‘Don’t suppose you would like to part with them?”

‘*No; don’t care to.”

“I don’t want them,” said Jim, “ still, thought if you
were anxious to get rid of them, my friend not feeling
well, we could possibly use them.”

“Doan’t dink ve vant ’em,” interrupts Hans, at the
same time looking as if he would like to pound himself
for saying it.

“You can have them,” the boys says, “If you pay
my price.”

“ All right, ve vill take ’em,” Hans exclaims ex-
citedly.

“What?” Jim says in astonishment, looking
fiercely at Hans.

“T mean,” replied Hans, submissively. ‘“ Ve vill
dake ’m if ve can acree on brice.”

“ What do you want for them?” queried Jim.

cc Fifty cents a piece,” replied the boy.

TWO SPORTS; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. 239

“ Fifty cents! That’s outrageous! Awful!”

“ Dots a pigver brofit den ve make on segars,” Hans
puts in.

“Can’t help it, that’s my price. If you don’t want
to give it, all right.”

“ What do you say, Hans, shall we pay it?” asked
Jim.

“Guess you pedder, Shim. Maype its casting pread
on der vatter, und vill after many days redurn. He
seems a nice young man, und I am glat to help him
oud.”

They pay the boy, take the ducks, and the boy
departs.

“ Hans,” said Jim, ‘* How much money did you bring
along ?”

“Tri tollars,” replies Hans.

“JT had five, that makes eight. Do you know what I
would have done rather than let that boy get away?”

“ Yes, I do,” replied Hans, “und it vould half penn
all right, und I vould half paid you der eggstry tollar
ven ve got home.” ‘“Shiminy Gristmus! But I vas
seairt ven you let dot poy valk off, I vas zo oxzited dot
I vas almost afraid to sbeak. If you hat ledt him off
mit dose dugs gegangen, you vould neffer my forgive-
ness had. Neffer, neffer, neffer.”

“What did you take me for?” asked Jim, “T didn’t
intend he should get away. Nice note it would have
been, to have gone home without ducks, wouldn’t it?
Why, man, we never would have heard the last of it.
We would have been the laughing stock of the whole
town.”

“Dots vats der madder,” said Hans, “ but.I vas
afraidt dot maype ve hadn’t money genough, und ve

24() WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

couldn’t rop der poy on der highway, in der vilderness,
mit force und wiolence, against his vill.”

“If our money run out, didn’t I have a watch?”
said Jim.

* Dots vats der madder! But say, Shim, don’t you
dink it vould a goot idea pe, if ve der same story tell
der poys at home?”

“Yes, we mustn’t forget that. You say you killed
four, I the same, and the odd one we both shot, and
can’t say who killed it. We have enough, and won't
hunt any more to-day.

“Und der tog! vot shall I say apout him? Dat he
vas out of bracdice, und a leedle rusdy ?”

“Yes, yes,” Jim replied. “Don’t mention the dog
unless compelled to, and then speak tenderly of him,
for my mother’s sake, she thinks a great deal of him.”

They hunted no more that day, but hung around the
woods, eating and drinking until early evening, when
they started for home, arriving there at about 9 P. M.
Next day, they took especial pains to show the game,
the evidence of their skill. That afternoon the follow-
ing appeared in the local paper

** GOOD SHOTS.

“Two of our most successful duck-hunters, Messrs.
James Johnson and Johann Dietrich, after months of
close confinement to their business, resolved to banish
dull care and have a day’s outing on the Meredosia

3ottoms. They left here yesterday morning at break
of day, supplied with the necessary accoutrements fora
day of pleasure, taking with them their excellent re-
triever ‘Sport. They returned last night, pleased

TWO SPORTS; OR, OUT FOR A LARK. 241

with their day’s trip, and ready once again to supply
their customers with the necessities of life, or the
fragrant Havana. Their kindly remembering the
scribe with a toothsome pair of mallards is fully appre-
ciated. It’s a sad day for the feathered tribe when
these crack shots are among them, for they always re-
turn with a goodly supply. We understand there is a
fair prospect of a shooting match being arranged be-
tween Messers. Johnson and Dietrich, with two gentle-
men from a neighboring town. English rules, live
birds. Should this match come off, and we hope it will,
our citizens will then have an opportunity to see some
brilliant work, especially on the part of our home

talent.”
16

oe Wi ‘ie . eho

ye Mi i oh erua 1s a
¥ BiGe Lan) aan 43 ek ie -
| a it 7 ig Me
te ae el ;
video he

: : i i ie san oy Cjeuya 7

h ; 7 o< a aon ee ne

' ‘ i H om] j wa “I i
i oe ' wv

P 5 i ‘
; ,) i's npg bY ?
- ia
mI | A 4 ’
ty ‘ Le

; a)
| ov a 7

t : :

fe a ihe a
Bay i ) oes re
i . ; : a rn .
Ve s ‘
: ve A a) bel s7 ae an
; r 7s i - ;' & oi = - wie aan

3
4 -
=
, i
; “wie :
om ay ;
~ v
. _
t . dh
. -* 7 :
a)
f uD ones oF
; a
>i
ws

A MOKNING WITH NATURE, ETC. 243

CHAPTER XXVI-

A MORNING WITH NATURE, AND AN AFTERNOON WITH
THE DUCKS

ONE pleasant afternoon in the month of November,
1887, I sat at my office window, admiring the beautiful
day, as the sun shone warmly, brightening every ob-
ject and causing the floating ice to glisten like silver
as it piled up on the outjetting points on the Missis-
sippi river. It brought back to me pleasant recollections
of a day similar, and at once my thoughts wandered in-
to fairy land,—at least so far away that I picked up
my pen and allowed it to drift along by the current
of my thoughts until the last hours of the declining
day cast the sun’s bright gleams on the variegated
leaves, so plainly to be seen on the tall trees, fluttering
their brown and golden shapes in the slight breeze, as
they fell to the ground carpeting the earth with a soft
covering, victims of the blighting touch of Jack Frost.
I wrote and wrote, wandering in an earthly paradise.
Before me nothing was discernible except the grand
sight [ had once enjoyed, and in my vision that glorious
morning was so plainly to be seen that all else was for-
gotten; and once again I was far from city hum, float-
ing down the river on the broad surface of the Missis-
sippi. Awakening from my pleasant reverie, I saw it
was twilight. Hastily putting my manuscript together,
I thought an instant, then christened it. ‘ A morning
with Nature, and an afternoon with the ducks.”

244 WILD FOWL SHOOTING,

The day is beautiful, the purity of the atmosphere,
the stillness of the open water, as it peeps now and then
through the floating ice, reminds me of a day, two
years ago, when hunting on this same broad stream, I
saw a sight that held me spell-bound, and for a time
mute with astonishment and admiration.

There was a party of us camped for the night about
four miles south of Bellevue. The first night it tarned
cold, and the morning following the air seemed filled
with frost. The slightest sounds were carried to almost
phenomenal distances ; our voices, unusually clear that
morning, seemed to possess increased strength and vol-
ume. Conversation in ordinary tones echoed and re-
echoed through the woods. When the sun rose the sky
was cloudless: his bright rays pierced through the
deep and almost impenetrable gloom; the frost disap-
peared and rose in clouds of vapor, on every side, the
trees were laden with the most beautiful frost I ever
saw. Our first view was taken when in the mid-
dle of the river, as we were slowly and gently sculling
across.

All at once as if some huge curtain was raised, the
sun glared over the tops of the adjacent hills and the
frost-laden trees were exposed to our view, as if by
magic. We were west of an island, and had a distinct
view of the lights and shadows caused by the sun shin-
ing through the trees. In the darkest shadows the
frost, dull and lifeless, had the appearance of hammered
silver; then as the hght grew stronger, the frost turned
to a brighter silver, and when the full rays were turned
on, it sparkled and scintillated in the morning light.
No diamond ever showed more variable and brilliant
hues than did the frost that morning, as it quivered

A MORNING WITH NATURE, ETC. 245

and sparkled under the warm rays of the rising sun.
It seemed at times as if imbued with life, and as it
clung tenaciously to the overburdened trees it seemed
to breathe with a sigh, and when at last it could no
longer hold to the branches, a gentle rustling and the
quivering mass fell toward the earth, carrying bunch-
es with it from the lower branches, while myriads of
shooting stars sparkled for an instant in the sunlight,
and then, as if with one last expiring gasp, a cloud of
snow-white dust arose in the air, and instantly disap-

peared.

*T was Nature’s painting, ’t was Nature’s scene,
We were enchanted, indeed in paradise lost,

As we saw the wood in silver and green,

All covered with snow-white, clinging frost.

It seemed as if we were in fairy-land,

That earthly thoughts and things dissolved in air;
We saw bright jewels sparkling in the morning sun,
Emeralds, rubies, diamonds, jewels beyond compare

And, Oh! how beautifully it glistened

On trees, on leaves and waving grass;

In silent admiration we looked, then listened,
As it quivered and fell in a trembling mass.

I have hunted, I might say, all my life, at least since
a boy of twelve; have seen Nature dressed in all her
various garbs, both joyous and mournful, in her warm
springtime, in the summer of her life, and in the ma-
ture fall, as well as in the golden age of winter, but this
was one of the grandest sights I ever witnessed.

Later in the day, while lying at full length in the
bottom of the boat, half buried in hay, eating a gener-
ous lunch, I saw, far off in the west, ducks high in the
air, travelling south, as I supposed. Suddenly, they |
hesitated, and, making a wide swoop, dropped almost
perpendicularly behind a cluster of trees. Soon another

246 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

flock did the same, then another, and still another.
That settled it. I knew they were dropping in on their
feeding ground. I marked the place, although fully a
mile from us; crossed the river, and, throwing the de-
coys over our backs, we started for the ducks. It was
a mystery to my companion how we were to find them,
since nothing was to be seen, except a dense forest of
trees: but I had marked they were lighting directly
west of two large oak trees, how far of course I could
not guess. Going directly to these trees, we started
due west, and soon heard the anticipated quack. Con-
tinuously moving forward, we caught a glimpse of the
pond, where they were enjoying their midday picnic.

Such a sight ! The pond covered about four acres,
and to this time, the ducks were in complete possession
and control of it. They were scattered in bunches,
ranging in numbers from three to fifty, all mallards.
Some with heads hidden underneath their wings were
floating serenely, and dreaming idly of what ducks
usually dream ; others were preening themselves, now
rising on their feet and fluttering their wings, while
great drops of water were shaken from their shining
bodies ; still others were swimming to and fro, advanc-
ing and receding as if to forma better acquaintance
with their neighbors. On the banks some sat idly,
half asleep, basking in the warm sun, while near them
their companions were tipping up in the shallow water,
performing acrobatic feats. First their glossy green heads
with their plump bodies would be on the surface, then
presto ! their heads would disappear and their white
and purple tails would point upward, while their bills
were hidden under water and mud, searching for the
ever welcome acorn.

A MORNING WITH NATURE, ETC. 247

Where they all came from it was impossible to tell.
The air was full of them ; they came singly, in pairs,
and in flocks ; the very heavens seemed to be casting
out ducks. There was no hesitation on the arrival of
the new-comers ; this seemed to be the place they long
had sought. There was no timid circling to see if
danger lurked in the overhanging willows, and with
the utmost abandon they came down gracefully, lighting
upon the placid water. They came from every direction,
there appearing to be ore constant deluge of living
feathers. A shining of green, white, slate, and purple
feathers. I close my eyes and see the sight even now.
In my imagination I see some old drake coming down
with bowed wings: down, down he comes untilit seems
as if every bone in his body would be smashed by the
concussion with the water, such is the speed with which
he is descending; when, perhaps thirty feet from the
water, he reverses his position, his head is elevated, his
neck is thrown into a graceful curve, his breast swells
out, his yellow feet extend before him, his wings flutter
swiftly, and, instead of meeting his doom, he gracefully
drops with a gentle splash among his waiting compan-
ions, who greet him with loud quackings of welcome,
which he acknowledges by a gentle, grating chuckle, and
a graceful nodding of his shining head.

How quietly we laid behind the fallen log, and how
we enjoyed the weird, wild scene, to watch, unbeknown
to them, the ducks in their quiet midday retreat. It
seemed almost sacreligious to wantonly intrude on their
privacy, and ruthlessly drive them away from this quiet
place by loud reports and death-dealing guns. But we
were too practical to allow the romance of the situation
to influence our object in coming, and simultaneously

248 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

rising, we fired together at the frightened birds. The
overhanging willows and the sloping bank hid from
our view many that were near to us, and our first barrels
were hurriedly fired at those that jumped from the centre
of the pond. ‘The loud roar of the guns threw all, both
wakeful and sleeping ducks, into the greatest consterna-
tion, and they displayed remarkable activity and skill
in trying to get away from the pond. As they rose from
their bed of indolence, the flapping of their strong
wings emitted sounds similar to a rushing train of cars.
My companion hastened to secure the fallen birds, and
shoot the escaping cripples, while I hurried to place
our wooden decoys in the water. Much to our surprise
we had killed but five. The decoys out, we were soon
secreted behind our temporary and hastily constructed
blind.

Had we openly walked up to the pond, and driven
them out without shooting, no doubt more of them
would have returned, but we were hurrying down the
river, and time was literally flying, and we felt the neces-
sity of quickly improving any chances we had. The ducks
soon commenced to return, and with bowed wings or
timid circling they would come within reach of our choke-
bores. Wary at first, their suspicions were soon lulled
into a feeling of confidence when they heard our wel-
come call, as we imitated their well-known cries. It was
a delightful place to shoot, the bright western sky
bringing out their shining bodies in grand relief, as
they flew over the decoys, high in the air ; then flying
off as if intending to depart and never return, but
quickly turning when our tremulous beseeching cry
would reach the ear of the drake leading the flock. It
was too enticing for him, and seeing our decoys wait-

4 MORNING WITH NATURE, ETC. 249°

ing so patiently, sitting so serenely, entirely oblivious
of all sense of danger, he would swerve and turn toward
the decoys, and the flock would follow their leader and
come toward us. The quick report of the guns, the
climbing ducks going straight up in the air on the ex-
plosion of the powder, the centre shot, doubling the drake
up limp and lifeless, the hasty ill-judged one, tipping the
wing of the duck and necessitating a long chase, were all.
seen and heard in a very short space of time. All kinds
of shots were presented and acéepted, of course not always
successfully, but we tried them all. A duck would come
in, forgetful of everything, and with a grand swoop
bow her wings right over the decoys thirty yards from
us. <A flash, a dull roar, a cloud of smoke, the woods
filled with the re-echoing sounds, a drift of feathers
floating in the air, and the duck throwing her head back
on her falling body, would fall with a dull splash in the
water. Then a drake off at our sides high over the
water would come toward us, his green head looming
up clearly against the light back-ground of steam
colored sky. He looks down carelessly at our decoys,
at his floating brothers and sisters ; we know he will
not come back, and with implicit confidence throw our
guns up. Quick as lightning, there flashes through our
brains height, distance, velocity, both of shot and speed
of birds,—the gun points at his body, then slowly and
steadily advances ahead of him, one-two-three-four feet
the brain conveys the thought tothe fingers, the fingers
instantly respond, and at the report, the drake “shuts
up” its plump body like a jack-knife and a dark object
falls like a ball of lead to the earth. So small does he
look as he comes from his fifty, perhaps sixty yards of
height, that his body in its descent doesn’t look larger
than a pigeon.

250 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Then again, an incomer, first deciding to light among
the decoys, then quickly changing her mind comes right
over us. This is the only time we shoot and kill, seeing
nothing at time of pulling the trigger. The duck
advances; we aim at her; she is coming directly over
us; we draw on her breast, then her head; the gun
keeps moving, then her bill is passed, andshe is entirely
out of our sight. We know she is still coming, and
moving the gun a trifle further ahead, fire, and she falls
at our feet.

Suddenly one passes over our heads unawares, we ac-
cidentally catch sight of it, when quickly itis high over
us, going away very fast. Hastily catching aim, we
fire fully two feet under it. The smoke bothers us ; we
cannot see whether or not we hit,—the drake is not fly-
ing away. We mark the direction ; see the golden leaves
fallina tremulous manner to the ground, thensee falling,
bounding with gentle concussion from limb to limb, a
bunch of brown chestnut, canvas, green, purple and
white, and we mark the spot where the dead drake les.

The flight of the birds had almost entirely stopped.
We sat in our blinds gazing listlessly at the fleeting
clouds, discussing the beauties of the morning, and ad-
miring the variegated scenery on all sides of us.

Now the flight begins again, the ducks begin coming
back in great numbers. My companion was an inexperi-
enced hunter, and when I would make a double, bis ad-
miration knew no bounds, and his compliments were
extravagant to adegree. He wasn’t excitable. Oh, no!
most beginners are not. Next to his seeing me kill them,
there was nothing he enjoyed more than shooting
cripples. When a duck struck the water and showed
the least inclination to prolong his life, bang! would go

A MORNING WITII NATURE, ETC. 251

the gun, and the duck would spread out its wings on
the water, gasping for breath, while the gurgling in its
throat would show it recognized the uncertainty of life
and the absolute certainty of death; its teetering, droop-
ing head would fall forward, and it would be motionless
in death. Then again, when one would cunningly sneak
off, with its bill just out of water, looking like a floating
stick , how he did like to bury that bill with a charge of
6’s from his choke-bore. One fell winged, not over twenty
feet from us. Alas! it moved. Away went that gun
again before I could stop him, and the head and upper
portion of the neck were cut off slick and clean. I de-
murred to this proceeding; but he constituted himself
judge, said the question wouldn’t admit of argument,
overruled my demurrer, and as at that time he consid
ered himself a court of last resort, I didn’t even take
any exceptions, but let the matter drop. He said that
no duck should strike the water alive and get away
from him. A few moments after this I shot another ;
down it came, winged ; fell right in front of him. He
was ready for it, and I expected to see it lifted clear
out of the water. It was laughable to see him stand
there watching for it, his gun pointed where the duck
disappeared. “Give it to her!” I said. ‘ Well!”
said he, *“ that beats me, where in the world do you
suppose that duck has gone to?” “ You ought to know,”
said I ; “ you were just telling me that no duck should
strike the water alive andget away. It’s all I can do to
knock them down, without being compelled to watch
them. See here, I will help you out this time,”
and walking out carefully into the water, so as not to
roil it, I showed him the duck, dead on the bottom,
clinging to a bunch of grass which it had seized when
it struck the water and drowned itself.

252 WILD FOWL SIIOOTING.

“Did you see it before you went out ?” said he.

“ Notat all. I saw where the bird fell : it was crip-
pled and when it did not come up at once, I knew it had
grabbed hold of something and drowned itself. Don’t
know as the duck is to blame, as its death was easier that
way than to be riddled with that murderous gun of
yours. There is nothing unusual about their meeting
death in this way, I have known them to do so time and
again.”

Just then a drake came along over us, high up, and
holding fully three feet ahead of him, I had the satisfac-
tion of seeing him come down dead. The shot was
fired right over my companion’s head ; he evidently
heard it, for he jumped up excitedly and said, “ What
in blazes are you doing, trying to blow the top of my
head off?” :

* Notatall,” said I. “ The duck was killed, and taking
into consideration that fact, I didn’t think you were in
any great danger.”

“Tt strikes me,” said he, “ that you are too careless.
Some day you will shoot somebody. I never have
hunted much just on that account ; afraid some careless
fellow like yourself would shoot me.”

“If you live until I shoot you, you will live a great
many years,” said I; “and if it is all the same to you,
don’t swing your gun this way quite so often.”

*“ You needn’t be afraid of me, I am too old a man to

bed

be fooling with a gun, and have it go off acci
He didn’t finish what he started out to, simply be-
cause his gun did go off accidentally. Such a sheepish
look as he gave me.
“ Gosh!” said he, “I don’t see how that happened.”
* Don’t you? ” said I ; * then I will tell you. For the

A MORNING WITH NATURE, ETC. Das

last half hour you have been fooling with the hammers,
raising and lowering them. Your fingers are cold, and
the hammers slipped away from you; that’s how it hap-
pened. Now, cock your gun, and leave it that way.
Keep your finger off the trigger, your thumb from the
hammers, and it won’t occur again.”

He solemnly promised it should not happen again,
but it’s an actual fact that his gun did go off again in
that same manner later in the day. He was nervous
and excitable, and in constant fear lest some accident
might happen with a cocked gun, so he kept the ham-
mers down; then when a duck came near or threatened
to approach us, he raised the hammers in anticipation
of ashot. If the duck swerved off, then the hammers
were lowered; and this constant raising and lowering,
seconded with cold fingers and a nervous apprehension
that something mzght happen, was the cause of the un-
expected firing. Feeling that a change of air and a
little exercise might smooth his ruffled feelings, his at-
tention was called to a flock of mallards alghting in a
slough about a hundred yards from us. They were
coaxing flying ducks from our decoys, and at my sug-
gestion my companion wentover to rout them out. He
was not gone long; it didn’t seem to me over ten
minutes, but on his return he was pleasantly surprised
to find lying on the water nine mallards which I had
killed while he was gone. They afforded me some of
the prettiest shooting I ever enjoyed. They came in,
in pairs, as fast as I could load and shoot,—-and the last
bird shot at was the one missed, the first five pairs
having been killed insuccession. Picking up the ducks
he carried them out on the dry bank, and tied them
together. Much to his astonishment, he found we had

254 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

thirty-eight mallards. They were soon suplemented by
an additional six, that were killed while he was tying
those already killed. It was now about four o’clock,
and having to make fully fifteen miles down stream to
camp, we hastily gathered together ducks and decoys,
and double tripping, soon had things in our boat, and
started on our journey. We both regretted the neces-
sity of leaving this spot so early in the day, for it was
most truly a bonanza, and could we have remained till
dark, we could easily have bagged from seventy-five to
one hundred.

After being settled cozily in the soft hay in the boat,
my companion, while stroking the bright colors and
admiring the immense size of our dead drakes, ex-
claimed to me that we were in great luck in finding
these birds. |

“Why! my dear friend,” said I, “there wasn’t the
least element of luck about it, the finding of those birds
was merely bringing into use my practical knowledge of
wooderaft, birdcraft or by whatever name you choose to
call it. You were industriously engaged in seeing how
fast you could dispose of sandwiches, pickles, etc., and
your mind was so fully occupied with your pleasant
duties that you thought of nothing else, except to oc-
casionally crack some pleasant joke, and proffer me
the kernel of it. While you were doing this, my ears
and eyes were open, as well as my mouth,—ears listen-
ing to your bright stories,—eyes constantly scanning
the horizon, to see where ducks were going, and what
they were intending to do. Had I allowed lunch and
stories to engross my attention as you did, we would
have missed this splendid shooting we both enjoyed so
much. Then always bear in mind when hunting ducks,

A MORNING WITH NATURE, ETC. Zod

let your eyes follow a flying flock until they pass en-
tirely out of sight, and you will be surprised how often
you will see them pitching into some spot.not far from
you. Should you see several flocks dart down to the
same place, take your decoys and go there; you will
find it their feeding place, or some quiet mid-day retreat
where they will be found in large numbers.

We were now at the head of an island. Said I,
“ We will get three ducks along the overhanging wil-
lows of this island.”

He looked at me in astonishment, and said, “ How
do you know we will? If you are so certain, guess you
had better shoot them yourself.” Saying this, he opened
the lunch basket, half reclined on the hay, and pro-
ceeded to punish his already over-burdened stomach
with more lunch. I sculled gently and quietly along
the bushy shore; first jumped and killed a blue-bill,
then a mallard drake. We had now reached the foot
of the island, and I was about to despair in getting the
third duck, when a mallard sprung out of the grass not
over 30 yards from me, and fell dead at the report of
my gun. Mycompanion was utterly dumbfounded and
exclaimed, “ That beats me! How do you—how could
you tell just how many ducks you would kill coming
down this island? It is beyond my understanding. You
seem to know all about these ducks, read them in the
air, tell how many there are on an island, and just how
many you will kill in passing; you are too deep for
me. See here! Iam going to test your knowledge of
ducks.” And, grabbing one from the pile, handed it to
me, saying, “ Look at it! Tell me how old it is, and
what’s its name ?”

Without cracking a smile, I opened its mouth, looked
at it intently, and handing it back to him said :

256 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

’

“It was born a year ago last May.’

“ And its name?” gasped he.

* Anas boschas — or, mallard duck. They have no
christian name. You seem to doubt my knowledge of
ducks,” said I, “now I am going to demonstrate to you,
what a gifted duck-shooter cando. When I say ‘ gifted’
I mean just what I say. I mean when a human being
is blessed with the power of scenting or smelling live
ducks—”

“Do you mean to say that you can do this?” said
he, as he looked at me with disgust depicted on his
bright face. |

“ Most certainly !”’ said I.

He gave me a look of pity and sorrow, exclaiming,
“Did you ever hear the fate of Sapphira ?”

“Yes,” said I, “but don’t pass judgment on me with-
out trial. It is indescribable just how I can eatch and
retain scent; possibly, it’s owing to the peculiar con-
struction and formation of my nasal appendage; you
will notice the conformation of it,—the enlarged nos-
trils; the hook at the end ;—perhaps these aid me to
accept and retain the scent, after once it is discovered.
What it smells lke is equally impossible to relate. It
seems like a combination of odors; of aromatic herbs,
of dew-covered plants, of night-blooming cereus, musk
and a fresh water smell, all mixed together. But only
be patient, and when we get near game you can test
this power yourself; may be you can experience it.”

He was too much overcome to reply, but his looks
were indicative of his thoughts. We were now near a
tow-head; a small island in the centre of the river.
Not a bird was to be seen; neither did I expect it on
the side we were on. The island was narrow and could

A MOKNING WITH NATURE, ETC. O5T

easily be shot across. Quickly raising my head, I
sniffed the air, as if I: had struck a doubtful or uncer-
tain scent, then snuffing over again, punched him with
my foot, told him to keep low and be prepared to shoot,
at the same time suggesting that he try and see if he
could not smell them. Such a look as he gave me!
We came down quietly, and all the time I was ex-
claiming to him in a whisper, that the scent was grow-
ing stronger. At last I told him the scent was so strong
that they would jump out any second. He was only
half prepared. At my command (I had to be impera-
tive at this time) he was ready. Giving a few quick,
strong strokes with my sculling oar, I drove the boat
into the sand on the inclined shore, making a grating
noise ; when up jumped, within 30 feet of us, fully fif-
teen mallards. I dropped one with each barrel, while
he killed with his first and missed with the second.
He was too much surprised to move, and I clambered
over him and picked up the ducks. When I returned
he hadn’t recovered from his astonishment.

Said I, “It was very plain there was quite a large
flock from the strong scent, and had the wind blown
directly toward us, I could have winded them much
sooner.”

He said nothing then, indeed was in deep thought
for an hour, while I talked along as if nothing unusual
had happened. That night, as we were rowing along,
he suddenly dropped his oars, allowed the boat to drift
with the current, and looking me squarely in the face,
said, “ Now, no nonsense ; tell me, how you knew those
ducks were on that point.”

“Smelled them,” said I.

“Oh, come! you know I don’t believe that and
17

258 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

won't; but let me know, did you see them light there ? ”

No, I didn’t,” said J. “‘Ihis* 1s how JI knew it;
yet, I didn't know it ; but I felt they ought to be there.
That island is perfectly familiar to me, and a great
place for ducks to sit in midday picking up gravel, or
sitting in the sun. ‘To-day it is clear, but cold; aslight
wind blowing from the northwest: naturally they
would get out of the wind and sit in the sun. For an
hour before we got there, that island was constantly in
my sight. Nota hunter passed there, nothing to dis-
turb them, and I felt morally sure they would be there.
My jumping and killing the precise number at the
other island, prompted me to test fate a trifle further;
so without malice aforethought, the scenting or smell-
ing of game was sprung on you. Had the birds not
been found, my surprise would of course have been
very complete, and I am afraid I should have claimed
the scent was lost by the ducks swimming off in the
water.”

The morning following this hunt we distributed 50
mallards among our friends. Had we hunted in a hap-
hazard manner, regardless of method, without calling
into service lessons that years of experience had taught
one of us, we would not have killed one-tenth of the
number we did.

There are lessons to be learned in this article, which
should be committed to memory by every hunter. The
day so exceedingly beautiful, the frost so transparent,
the trees so gorgeous in their silvered coverings, the
sky, the water, the earth,—all Nature in her brightest
garbs, caused one to involuntarily recognize the exist-
ence of the ever-living God. Then, when you hunt,
don’t be selfish, and hunt merely for the game to be had ;

A MORNING WITH NATURE, ETC. 259

but cast aside all cares and business thoughts, wander
over the prairies, through vales and valleys, in shadowy
glens, on craggy hill-sides; or, rowing on some quiet
lake, or floating idly with the current of some broad or
sinuous stream, inhale draught after draught of delight-
fully pure air, and be thankful for the chance of doing
so. Better enjoy the day this way, and bag a dozen
birds, than kill a hundred, with your mind at all times
filled with selfish, avaricious motives.

Let the young hunter read again my description of
the shooting an “incomer,” the ‘ overhead shot,”
where the duck was not seen until after it had passed ;
the “long, high shot,” far off at the side; ponder them
well, it will be a profitable use of time, and rich inter-
est added to the knowledge he may have, for they are
the three most difficult shots to make at wild fowl.

The pleasant incident of jumping the three ducks
along the island; the laughable ‘‘scenting scene,”—
these are referred to, because they illustrate things that
should be remembered. They teach this lesson :—al-
ways approach a place where there is a possibility of
finding game, with caution; never pass a place where
there is a likelihood of finding birds, without investigat-
ing the ground thoroughly; never allow a flock of
ducks to fly out of your sight, without watching them
until they are lost to view.

eS.

a4

iD ¥
e a v Tav a) Oe

L
oT?
1 Ln oe
’

i “

Ye 58 '
es
. P
1 2 a
.
. ,
-
ra

wy ee

fi

t
‘ ' * $
bh
hi
i
= )
.
> 1

WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE. 261

CHAPTER XXVII.
‘WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE,
(Anser Albifrons : called “ Brant” in the West.)

HEAD and neck, grayish brown; at the base of the
upper mandible a white band. Adult with bill carmine-
red; with the ungins white; head and neck grayish
brown ; a white band margined behind with blackish
brown on the anterior part of the forehead, along the
bill: general color of the back, deep-gray, the feathers
of its fore part, broadly tipped with grayish brown,
the rest with grayish white. Hind part of back, deep-
gray ; wings grayish brown, toward the edge ash-gray,
as are the primary coverts, and outer webs of the prim-
aries; rest of the primaries and secondaries grayish
black,—the latter, with a narrow edge of grayish white,
the former, edged and tipped with white. Breast, ab-
domen, lower tail coverts, sides, rump and upper tail
coverts, white; the breast and sides, patched with
brownish-black, on the latter intermixed with grayish-
brown feathers. Tail, rounded: feet, orange; claws,
white. Length, twenty-seven and one half inches:
wing fourteen and one half inches.

The white-fronted geese, at a not remote period were
very plenty throughout the West.. Their numbers have
steadily decreased, going regularly and surely before

262 WILD FOWL SHOOTING:

advancing civilization. In former days, they were often
found, though not associating with, yet in the same
open waters, lakes and pouds where ducks resorted for
food. They are exceedingly shy and hard to decoy,
usually flying high over land, and pitching down al-
most vertically, when inclined to alight in some feeding
ground, or unexposed water. They are entirely lack-
ing in inquisitiveness, and therefore decoy poorly. The
mere fact that what appears to be a large number of
their kind, resting quietly in great security, in some
quiet retreat, makes but little difference to their know-
ing minds. They rely on their individual senses, and,
if things appear all right to them, singly and collective-
ly, well and good; if not, the matter is at once settled,
and shying off, they utter their familiar ‘“ Ah-le,”
* Ah-le,” and avoid places the least suspicious.
Because of the uncertainty of decoying them decoys of
their own kind will not pay for the making. Canada
(seese decoys answer the purpose, placed in stubble fields
as directed in article on ** Wild Goose Shooting,” but the
hunter will find them wary and hard to get, under all
circumstances. The best way andthe most successful
is when one is shooting mallards on the edge of a vast
field of wild rice, or hidden in one’s boat in the same
kind of blind. Keep a sharp look-out for them at all
times, and early in the morning, in the dim gray light ;
or, at even-time, when the day is dying, their big
phantom forms will loom up boldly against the sky,
and they can easily be killed. Of course, these are only
chance opportunities ; but bear in mind, that is the way
to get them, by chance, for they cannot be found in
sufficient numbers to afford amusement to the hunter
who is out for success, as well as for recreation. Nos.

WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE, 263

4 and6 are best sizes, where they can be fired at at close
range. At long distance, 50 to 70 yards, 1 oz., No. 2,
5 1-2 or 6 dims. powder in a 10 gauge gun will make a
load that will please one for effectiveness. At the
same time, the recoil will be reduced, by reason of the
small amount of shot, and dressed as the duck hunter
should be, the recoil will not be at all unpleasant.

ep een

nit

>

THE SNOW GOOSE., 265

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE SNOW GOOSE.
(Anser Hyberoreous.)

LENGTH, 32 inches ; extent, 60 inches; bill, 3 inches,
purplish carmine color, very thick at the base, rising
high in the forehead, small and compressed at the ex-
tremity, terminating in a whitish, rounding nail; the
edges of the two mandibles separate their whole length
in asingular manner ; the gibbosity occupied by dental
rows resembling teeth; which, with the parts adjoining,
are of blackish color.

Plumage, snowy white, except the forepart of the
head all round as far as the eyes, which is yellowish rust
color, mixed with white, and except the nine exterior
quill feathers, which are black, shafted with white, and
white at the roots. The coverts of these and of the
bastard wing sometimes pale ash color.

Legs and feet, purplish carmine; irs, dark hazel :
tail rounded, of sixteen feathers; the tongue is horny
at the extremity, and armed oneach side with thirteen
long, sharp, bony teeth, placed like those of a saw, with
their points inclined backward.

The Snow Goose,while almost a total stranger to many
hunters in Eastern, Middle and some Western States,

266 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

notably in Nebraska and Dakota, are found in plenty,
mingling in profusion, and associating with Brant,
Canada Geese and Hutchin’s Geese, with fraternal
affection. Their habits are quite similar to the
habits of other wild. geese; the food, the same; and
they may often be seen on sand bars, in the low slug-
gish rivers, in the open lakes of Dakota and Nebraska,
forming conspicuous objects, as they show up so clearly
in the bright sunlight, their snowy white pencilled off
by the glossy black on their wings, making a pretty sight
when brought into contrast with dull bars, drifting
sand, barren pastures, or the dark, upturned broken
prairie. When the Canadas leave the rivers and lakes
and fly heavily over fields and prairies, going to and re-
turning from their feeding grounds, the pure white
ones, similar to tame geese, will rise and go with them,
sometimes lead the horde of departing geese, and
rising to considerable height, much higher than their
cousins, will fill the air with shrieking, discordant
sounds, carrying to the ears of the onlooker most dismal
and wretched cries. When in air, they are continual
gossips, and could an interpretation be made of the
language used, judging its purport by the tone it is
uttered, they must be guilty of the most deliberate and
malicious slander, probably against their slow-moving
neighbors,—the Canadas, possibly, against the human-
race,—at any rate, one feels justified in classing them
as common scolds. They will not decoy well, and
when they come within 60 or 75 yards of the hunter
who is concealed in his * pit,” he should let drive at
them, trusting the result to cool aimand a close-shoot-
ing, hard-hitting gun.

When sitting in stubble field or open prairie, they

THE SNOW GOOSE. 26T

closely resemble a ridge or drift of snow, at a distance,
and are very noticeable. At such a time it is useless
to attempt to approach them, for they will be so situat-
ed that the hunter cannot do so without being observed.
They are fair eating, not especially to be longed for and
yet not to be despised. The same charges should be
fired at them as at other geese. When a flock is seen, if
there are two or more in the party, let all but one
make a wide circuit, and secrete themselves in the
grass or cornfield, so they will have tofly against the
wind, then let one frighten them up—they will rise and
fly directly against the wind, and the hidden hunters
will often get near and easy shots.

In alighting, they do not sail like the Canadas, but
pitch down in an irregular flight, apparently each one
for himself.

BRANT ; OR, BRENT GOOSE. 269

CHAPTER XXIX.
BRANT; OR, BRENT GOOSE.

(Anser Bernicla.)

Buu, black ; head and neck all round black; a patch
on the sides of the neck white ; upper parts brownish
gray, the feathers margined with light grayish brown ;
quills and primary coverts grayish black; fore part of
breast light brownish gray, the feathers terminally mar-
gined with grayish white; the abdomen and lower
tail coverts white; sides, gray, the feathers rather
broadly tipped with white. Length, two feet; wings,
14 1-2 inches. Female rather smaller.

I have no doubt, when many experienced wild fowl
hunters read the title to this article, then read the de-
scription given, they will instantly say,—at least think,
that my description is that of the Hutchin’s Goose, and
that the sketch of the “white-fronted goose” should
be that of the Brant. A frank confession on my part
compels me to agree with them, for no Western wild
fowl shooter would call this scientific description of
Brant or Brent goose to be an accurate representation
of the Brant, as it is universally recognized in the West.
among practical hunters. While on the contrary, the
description of the white-fronted goose one recognizes
at a glance as that of the well-known Brant.

After a careful and exhaustive examination of the

270 | WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ornithological books at hand, I fail to find a description
of the Hutchin’s goose, and the only thing near it is
that of the Brant goose, which corresponds exactly with
the Hutchin’s goose, as recognized in Nebraska and
Dakota.

The nomenclature of the Goose family will put in
doubt and mystify the wild fowl hunter greatly, for
they receive their names in the West, not scientifically
and historically, but locally. And when we find them
classified under one name in a given locality, in another,
perhaps not remote, names will be thrust upon them en-
tirely dissimilar. As an illustration, I have known
“Canada geese” called ‘ Canadas,” “ Hutchin’s, ”
“Hudson Bay geese,’ and some local hunters would evade
all these and give them the appropriate, but not dignified
name of “ Old Honkers”; and they would be persistent
in their claims of right, and could not be convinced to
the contrary. What is known as the “ Hutchin’s
goose” in Nebraska is precisely like the Canada in ap-
pearance, except in size, the Hutchin’s goose weighing
from 7 to 9 pounds, while the Canadas run from i0 to
18 pounds, averaging 11 to 12 pounds. They should
be hunted in the same manner. The chapter on Can-
ada goose shooting fully explains the most approved
methods.

TRUMPETER SWAN. 271

CHAP PER SOx
TRA Wiel He By kon Sis cAG ING
(Cygnus Buccinator.)

Adult Male.—Bill, longer than the head, higher than
broad at the base, depressed and a little widened at the
end, rounded at the tip. Upper mandible with the
dorsal fin sloping; the ridge very broad at the base,
with a large depression, narrowed between the nostril,
curved toward the end; the sides nearly erect at the
base, gradually becoming more horizontal and convex
toward the end.

Head of moderate size, oblong, compressed ; neck ex-
tremely long and slender; body very large, compact,
depressed; feet, short, stout, placed a little behind the
centre of the body ; legs bare an inch and a half above
the joint; tarsus short, a little compressed covered all
round with angular scales of which the posterior are
very small. Hind toe extremely small, with a narrow
membrane.

A portion of the forehead about half an inch in
length, and the space intervening between the bill and
the eye are bare. Plumage dense, soft and elastic ; on
the head and neck the feathers oblong, acumate ; on the
other parts in general broadly ovate and rounded, on
the back short and compact; wings, long and broad ;
the anterior protuberance of the first phalangeal bone
very prominent; primaries curved, stiff, tapering to an
obtuse point, the second longest exceeding the first by

Pali WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

half an inch, and the third by a quarter of an inch;
secondaries, very broad and rounded, some of the inner
rather pointed. Tail, very short, graduated, of twenty-
four stiffish, moderately broad, pointed feathers, of
which the middle exceeds the lateral by 2 1-4 inches.

Bill and feet, black; the outer edges of the lower
mandible and the inside of the mouth yellowish flesh
color. The plumage is pure white, excepting the upper
part of the head, which varies from brownish red to
white, apparently without reference to age or sex;
length to end of tail 68 inches; bill along the ridge
4 7-12ths iiches; from the eye to the tip 6.

In the winter, the young has the bill black, with the
middle portion of the ridge to the length of 8 1-2 light
flesh color, and a large elongated patch of light, dim
purple on each side; the edge of the lower mandible
and the tongue dull, yellowish flesh color. The eyes
dark brown. The feet dull yellowish brown tinged with
olive; the claws brownish black; the webs blackish
brown. The upper part of the head and cheeks are
light reddish brown, each feather having toward its
extremity a small oblong whitish spot, narrowly mar-
gined with dusky ; the throat nearly white, as well as
the edge of the lower eyelid. The general color of the
other parts is grayish white, slightly tinged with yellow:
the upper part of the neck marked with spots similar
to those on the head. Length to end of tail 52 1-2
inches ; extent of wings, 91; weight, 19 lbs. 80z. The
bird is very poor.

In the Western States this noble bird is almost extinct;

TRUMPETER SWAN. “73

they have been comparatively strangers, except at rare
intervals. Not far in the distant past, they were annually
seen with us on the large lakes and rivers, and frequent-
ly feeding in immense bayous. Of all the birds that
swim the waters with shapely forms, gracefulness of
proportion, elegance of contour, the swan exceeds them
all, as it floats on the bosom of some broad lake, or
wide and deeply flowing river. It is larger than other
wild fowl, and the rare grace of its movements, the
litheness of its arched neck, its jet black bill, with the
deep yellow streak running in a diminutive line from the
eye, the spotless white, seeming purer and whiter than
the drifted snow, attracts our admiration at once. They
are the synonym of beauty and grace, and our imagina-
tion, however vivid it may be, can picture nothing more
graceful, and quietly beautiful, than one of these birds
on the water, in its uniform of frosted white. When
we see a whiteness that is absolutely colorless, resting
inanimaiely, it attracts our attention, for we see in it,
what the world recognizes as an emblem of perfect
purity. But when we see the swan, an animated being,
moving quietly and gracefully with arched neck, sail-
ing so queenly and majestically through the rippling
water, gently propelling itself forward with its great
wide black feet, the sunshine making conspicuous the
glossy white, and faint shadows seeming to flit and
follow each other, we gaze in pleasing wonder on the trail
of incandescence left in their wake.

For ages past their beauty, grace and elegance has
been recognized. When in ancient times nobility sought
to build vessels whose cost was disregarded, whose
beauty of design was to reach perfection itself, the

uppermost thoughts in the mind of the builders were,
18

Q74 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

al

to make the vessel sit upon the water with the natural
grace of the swan. ‘To make it still more realistic, the
archness of the neck, the beautifully shaped head, were
placed at the prow, while the gondola itself followed
in shape the body of the bird, while fluted and corrug-
ated wings extended symmetrically toward the stern of
the boat. It was m1 such a bargeas this that Cleopatra
first went forth, and met and conquered Antony,—not
by force and arms, but with fascinating glances, oriental
loveliness, and Egyptian splendor.

Ihave not seen a swan for years until this spring,
when my companion and myself had the good fortune
of securing two. They were evidently travellers bound
for the distant North, and stopped among us tempora-
rily for food and rest. There were fifteen in the flock.
The two we got had separated from the rest, and we
shot them in the middle of the Mississippiriver, amongst
floating ice, having first trimmed our low scull-boat to
represent a drifting cake ot ice. They were both old
birds, one weighing 19 lbs.,and the other a few pounds
heavier. The heaviest aud largest. one I have had
mounted,—the other being skinned, rewarded us with
the nicest down I ever saw, being fully two inches in
length, and of the purest white. There are no partic-
ular instructions to be given as to the manner of shoot-
ing them,—they are too rarely found. Getting them
is ascribed wholly to luck, the duck-hunter coming
upon them unexpectedly while in pursuit of wild fowl.

When the hunter has the rare good fortune to kill
one, it is a bright spot in his experience, and an event
which he always remembers with pleasure.

Their habits are similar to geese. They are exceed-
ingly wary, always rise up-wind, and should be ap-

,

TRUMPETER SWAN. 275

proached from the windward. Should the wind blow
hard, the hunter will be pretty sure to get a shot. A
thick coating protects their bodies, and consequently
they are hard to kill. When flying, theirlong neck seems
out of proportion, and although a large bird, their flight
is exceedingly swift. Their cry is a mixture, sounding
like half crane, half goose. Some authorities consider
them good eating. Don’t try it, unless you are inquis-
itive, or desirous of experimenting.

or 2 oe
a ee ee

‘ - he =

= _ - -_ mn

hoe

CHAPTER XXXI.

CANADA GOOSE SHOOTING.
(Anser Canadensis. )

Sailing in the solemn midnight, underneath the frosty moon,

I can hear the clanging pinions of each shadowy platoon,

Near the winged hosts, commotion, marching to the Northern
Ocean,

File on file, rank on rank, speeding to some reedy bank,

Oozy fens or marshes gray, far up Baftin’s icy bay;

Honking, clamoring in their flight under the black clouds of
night.

Winging over wastes of ocean, over voyaging ships they pass,
Where from reeling mast the shipboy notes them with the up-
rais’d glass,
And the fisher in his dory drops his line to view their flight,
And the bafiled fowler gazes, hopeless, till they fade from sight;
Inland over plain and pasture, over mountain, wood and stream,
ee speeds the long procession, northward the swift pinions
eam,

WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

bo
Q
2 2

Through the rough, dark months of winter, in what sunny clime,
*Mid green lagoons and savannahs, passed ye the delicious time ?
Haply amid verdurous islands where the Mexic billows smile,
’Mid sweet flower-glades and gay plumage ye would riot all the
while;

Haply amid red flamingoes, hovering o’er some lilied lake,
Where the aloe drops its branches and the palms their branches
shake.

IsAAc MCLELLAN.

THE wild goose is so familiar to nearly every citizen
of the United States, that it seems quite superfluous to
call public attention to it scientifically and historically,
except in a casual manner. Those great ornithologists
Audubon and Wilson, besides others have treated of it
so exhaustively, that, combined with the practical ob-
servation the reader may have had, it may possibly be
“love’s labor lost” with many, for me to describe its
habits, resorts, peculiarities and breeding places.

Their ancestry, their origin, when and where first
discovered, dates back, one might say, “ to a time when
the memory of man runneth not to the contrary.”
There is no time in the history of the world that we
can trace back, and find them unknown. In England
they were seen and known hundreds of years ago.
Acclimated and domesticated in Ancient Rome, they
served as sentinels to warn the sleeping inhabitants of
that city of the enemy’s approach, which event occurred
soon after the Eternal City had been furrowed out by
Romulus and Remus; and to go still further back, to
pre-historic times—to a time when Noah, according to
Divine instruction, had filled the Ark with two of
every living kind, we can imagine a pair of these geese
a trifle late to gain entrance through the sealed doors
of the ark, swimming round and round the vessel, nois-
ily clamoring for admission.

CANADA GOOSE-SILOOTING. 279

And doubtless, by delving into the past long be-
fore the days of Noah, we would learn that at the time
Adam and Eve partook of the forbidden fruit in the
Garden of Eden, these honkers, nameless at this time,
dressed in gala-day suits of lead-color, black and white,
waddled up to Adam and from him received their
names—names by which they were always tobe known;
and, atter being duly classified by him, departed for the
first time on their annual migrations toward the ex-
treme northern countries, a habit they have ever since
been addicted to, and which all subsequent generations
of geese have inherited.

Their breeding-place is in the far North; so far in-
deed, that they go beyond the possibility of pursuit by
human foes. When the winter months have faded
away, and the uncertainty of the season is apparent, at
a time when our minds are in doubt as to whether or
not spring has come, they begin their annual migra-
tions, and rising to a height of from one to three hun-
dred yards, set out on their apparently endless journey.
The pedestrian in the Southern States hears their fa-
miliar honk, looks up towards the sky, and sees them,
led by an old gander, in a triangular shaped flock,
headed for the North. Inthe Middle States, their wel-
come cries in mid-air are heard, their well-known forms
are seen, and they bring pleasant recollections of warm
rains, gentle winds and budding flowers. At our feet
we see the snow fast melting into the mould, running
trickling along on its course to the sea. And these
geese, sure precursors of approaching spring, the vernal
season we all like so well, receive from us a cordial nod
of welcome, as we gaze with upturned faces and watch
them as they disappear in the dim distance.

280 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

In the North, in the extreme Northern States, their
flight goes on, apparently never ending. The green
verdure of the Southern States, the swollen streams and
melting snow of the Middle States, the frozen earth of
the Northern covered with a mantle of pure white, all
are passed over, and still their unceasing flight continues.
They are bound, some of them, for a place where, in
the solitude of the frigid zone, amid icebergs, and among
seals, walrus and their kind, they may spend months
in a clime uninhabited, and where night is turned into
constant day.

They are easily domesticated, readily become ac-
customed to civilization, and enjoy captivity. They
are familiar to us all, and a constant source of delight
to children, as they are seen picking the sprouting grass,
preening themselves, or indolently swimming in artificial
ponds, in perfect contentment. But when spring-time
comes, their inherent love of flight and wandering re-
turns to them, and uneasily looking at the fleeting
clouds, and answering the loud calls of their compan-
ions high in air, bound for the North, they have often
been known to arise, leave their home of adoption and
join their newly-found friends, and accompany them
on their distant journey. An instance is given of
a female departing in the spring and returning the next
fall, bringing two of her brood, and alighting in the yard
from whence she left. That it was the same goose
there could be no question, from private and well-known
marks ; besides, she assumed a familiarity with her sur-
roundings that no strange goose could have manifested.

They are a long-lived bird, and had they the power
of speech, could relate many incidents within their per-
sonal recollection, that would put to shame the stories

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 281

of the oldest inhabitant, and amateur fisherman, or the
owner of a setter dog. It is a matter of history of a
goose 1n captivity being killed at the age of 80 years,
necessity compelling his removal at that tender age, on
account of his mischievousness. Think ofit! Having
to be killed at the age of 80 because of mischievousness.
It does seem, that at that time of life, childish and
youthful tricks ought to have been discarded ; but for
aught we know, this same goose may have been in its
earliest childhood ; perhaps even the age of adolescence
had not been reached. And what age he might have
attained, had he not by his own playful indiscretions in-
vited his own destruction, it is impossible to predict.
After being acquainted with the sad decapitation of the
departed goose, cut off in the spring-time of his earthly
career, I am fully convinced of the extreme age many
old ganders I have killed must have reached. One
in particular, I have in mind. At the time of
his dissolution and when compelled to bid adieu
to all worldly affairs he was the leader of a large flock,
coming into my decoys. His immense size, appearing
almost a third larger than his companions, at once at-
tracted my attention. At the report of my gun he fell
with a loud thud on the frozen ground. When I picked
him up, his every appearance convinced me that he was
a patriarch ; little gray hairs streaked through the
glossy black on his head, around his eyes tiny wrinkles
were visible—everything in fact satisfied me that his
age was great. His enlarged neck, his body weighing
13 pounds, and his general appearance filled me with
awe, not unmixed with admiration; and the thought
occurred to me, that ifa goose at the tender age of 80
years is killed because of mischievousness, how old must

282 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

this fellow be? Perhaps he had sat upon a cake of
ice floating down the Delaware on that historic morning
when Washington crossed in the dim twilight,—per-
haps at an earlier era in our country’s infancy he arose
in alarm from a sand-bar in the Mississippi as De Soto,
on his voyage of discovery, beheld for the first time
with the eyes of a white man that broad-flowing majestic
stream. I have always had a great respect for old age,
and have ever felt satisfied that that goose was the
oldest and toughest animated thing I ever saw.

The different ways of hunting geese is entirely de-
pendent on the locality where they are hunted. The
manner of hunting them on the Mississippi could not be
adopted in Nebraska or Kansas. On the other hand, the
way they are hunted in those States could not be
followed advantageously on the Mississippi river.
They are shot on the Mississippi and Missouri rivers
from sand bars, again on the Mississippi from scull-
boats. This cannot be done on the Missouri because of
the swift current. But the most successful manner of
shooting is that practiced in Nebraska and Dakota,
namely, over decoys. The decoysare made of tin, iron
or wood, still better, the thin hard seating used in chairs.
They should bee light, portable, and taking up the
smallest space possible, and made to fold. They should
always be made “ profile,” the body one piece, then the
neck fastened to it by rivets, then an iron rod extend-
ing down from the body about eighteen inches, sharp-
ened at the end, so it can be pushed into the ground.
The neck folds close to the body, as does this iron rod,
when not in service, and they take up but little room
in wagon or boat. They should be painted with live
colors, the crescent shape of white underneath the head,

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 283

and wherever white may be seen on the live bird should
be brought out in strong contrast against the lead color
of the body and the black on the head and neck. The
hunter must dress warm, and in clothing suitable and
in strong sympathy with his surroundings ; there must
be no distinction between his dress and the dress of the
trees, sand, corn, stubble field, or wherever he may be
hid. These huge birds are wary according to their
size, and look with suspicion at every thing, and one
can rest assured that every goose he shoots he will earn,
unless he should be in a country where they are so
plenty as to do away with the necessity of exercising
much skill and ingenuity in hunting them,—even then,
he will find the number killed very small, unless he
dresses and hunts with judgment.

While they are a large mark to shoot at, it takes a
hard hitting gun to bring them down, plenty of powder,
good and strong, and rare skill in shooting at the right
time. The sizes of shot used by the very best of goose
hunters vary, ranging from No. 4 to BB, and extre-
mists use even larger. But taking into consideration
the fact that most, if not all, good shooting guns are
choke bored,and extreme choke at that, safety to both
shooter and gun doesn’t warrant the using of any size
larger than BB’s. The bore of the gun also depends
on the peculiar idea of its owner. While some will
not be satisfied with a six bore, an immense charge of
powder and two oz of shot; on the other hand, the
extremist the other way contends that a 20 bore,
and 1-2 oz. of shot is the great and only road to success.
The majority of hunters use 10 and 12 gauge, and where
they are properly loaded and well handled, their owners
have no cause to fear the 6 bore cannon, or to blush as

254 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

against the toy 20 bore. In my goose shooting I use a
30 inch barrel, 10 bore, full choke, weighing 10 Ibs.
loaded with 6 dins. powder, well and solidly wadded, and
loz. No. 2 chilled shot. It is a load used by myself
and companions while goose shooting for years, and
there has never been any occasion to complain of the
result, when geese are within distance, and the shooter
holds right.

The goose hunter should never carry with him but
one kind of ecall—that, the one Nature furnished him
with. No other that I have ever seen or heard is a
success. A fair sample of an artificial call such as is
usually sold, is one that emits indescribable sounds,
unlike those ever issued from the throat of any bird,
which gives one a strange conglomeration of noises, imi-
tating in part a brant, a goose, a wounded crane, a
squawking duck and a cat-bird, with the brand “ Goose
Call” onthe stem. The best place for such a call is in
the shop. Let the hunter have such an one secreted in
his pocket, let him go with an experienced shooter in a
scull-boat on the Mississippi, on a sand bar, in a blind
on the Missouri, ina bunch of straggling willows on the
Platte River, in the pits, in the stubble fields of Dakota,
—blow it once when geese are approaching decoys,
and he will see frightened geese, a disgusted hunter,
and a * goose-call”’ crushed to pieces, or disappear float-
ing and bobbing down stream with the current; while his
companion casts a look of doubt at him, as if mentally
pondering whether or not he is compos mentis to
bring such a thing as that along.

It is commonly supposed that goose shooting is very
simple, and that they are an easy bird to hit. This is
both true and false —true. when they come slowly

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 285

over one’s head, perhaps thirty yards high, facing a
moderately strong wind ; false, in almost every other
way. They are swift of flight, and when a single goose
comes down wind in a hurry to meet an appointment,
or to get there ahead of some companion who has gone
by some other route, a train of cars going forty-five
miles an hour is slow compared with the speed such a
goose will travel. Let a goose travel in that way low
down, say ten or twenty feet from the ground, how
will the amateur judge his distance, and how to shoot?
He sees a big body going along swiftly ; it seems to
him the bird is going at a lively rate, still, he recalls
how he has seen their lumbering forms buffeting against
a strong wind, or how he has seen them hovering over
the corn-fields, and it doesn’t seem to him they can fly
fast if they tried; besides, the goose being not far
from the ground, seems so very close to him, he sees
the black neck and head, thinks the bird not over 30
to 35 yards, holds possibly a foot, may be two feet,
ahead of him and fires. Of course he misses, for the
bird is fully 50 yards from him, and going like the wind.
He ought to hold fully four feet ahead. They are the
most deceptive bird that flies to judge their distance,
and always look from twenty to forty yards nearer than
they actually are. This is caused by their great size,
and the position the shooter is placed in. He must
always be well hid, frequently in a cramped or strained
position peering through the blind on the bow of his boat,
peeping from behind an old log, squinting through a
clump of bushes, or lying flat on his back, trying to
catch side glances of the coming bird, by sighting over
the bridge of his nose, while he writhes around on the
ground serpent-like, trying to always keep the geese in

286 WILD FOWL SHOOTING. ;

sight, without their noticing his slight movements.

The advance of civilization has great effect on Canada
Geese. The draining of the places where they were
wont to feed, on their flights from the Mississippi, hav-
ing deprived them of the luxury of bulbous roots which
they like so well as a dessert, after filling their greedy
selves with barley, buckwheat and corn, has driven
them to a great degree from the Mississippi Valley to
the Missouri slope, and to the open and exposed fields
of Nebraska and Dakota. At this late day, one is not
warranted in expecting to find goose-shooting sufh-
ciently good on the Mississippi as to hunt for them and
them alone, and those that are now killed are shot by
duck-hunters while in pursuit of that species of water-
fowl.

The best time to shoot them is in the spring, when
in making their periodical migrations they stop for a
short time for rest and food. The warm sun late in
March, or early in April, melts the ice in little sloughs
and bayous, swelling the rushing floods from creeks
and ravines, all commingiing with the river. The
river rises a little—the snow melts on the banks and
trickles down, the ice parts from the shore, and soon
a surging, crushing mass of ice fills the river with floes
of all sizes and descriptions, their snowy edges peering
up in the bright sun, while, peeping through these
drifting cakes, occasional streaks and spots of dark blue
can be seen, as the water ripples plainly out in view.
At such times as these, the geese will alight on a float-
ing cake of ice, and with an old gander on picket duty
will sleepily and lazily drift down with the strong cur-
rent, seeming to enjoy the warm sun, the circling
ducks, the crushing ice, and the rattling banks, as they

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 287

eave off and fall into the river with a loud splash.
And still better than this, they like to sit on some out-
stretched sand-bar, whose long arm extends far into
the channel, away from land, from willows and all
places that could afford concealment to the hunter. On
these bars, covering acres of surface, where the flowing
water and sand have frozen together, the ice tena-
ciously holds, and floating cakes urged and forced
along by the clashing mass are hurled up, piling ten to
thirty feet high on the out-jetting point. This is the
spot they like best in all the river, for they feel com-
paratively safe here.

The hunter in the scull-boat, attracted to this place.
of resort by frequent honks, starts for them, first
“trimming” his boat. The boat is low, and her decks
extend but a slight distance above the water, decked
overat bow and sides. There is abundant room to make
an excellent blind. This is done by sprinkling mud
and sand over bow and sides for a foundation, then
arranging the cakes of ice on bow and sides with great-
est care, so that when coming down the river, the boat
will seem likea small ice-cake, drifting with the current.
The ice must be placed on the bow high enough to
hide the sculler and companion from the birds. On the
side, thin sheets of ice, resting on the outer combing,
a combing half an inch high at the outside, then leaning
against the five-inch gunwale more ice, until the
whole resembles an ice floe, about 12 feet long, four feet
wide and from teninches to two feet high. When the
boat is finished it must be trimmed with the greatest
nicety, so that when the two hunters are in position, it
will be perfectly balanced, with the boat’s nose or bow
well loaded down, as it then sculls and handles easier.

288 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

The shooter is in the bow, sitting on the hay in the
bottom of the boat—no seats—is silently watching
through a peep-hole in the ice, the distant geese. The
sculler, half sitting, half reclining, easily propels the
boat along, by his sculling oar bound with leather, and
working in the sculling hole in the stern of the boat.
The boat moves with the current then, seeing a huge
cake that looks as if it might crush the boat coming
right at it, the sculler with a few rapid strokes shoots
the boat quickly forward, and the immense cake floats
idly along, not even grazing the boat: then again, to
avoid another, he holds to the ice with oar or hand un-
til some piece passes them, for they not only want to
avoid being caught between the cakes, but also to keep
from making the slightest noise. So well are they
hidden that blue-bills sweep over them so near they can
almost feel the wind of their wings, mallards circle
around them, pin-tails whistle in the air; then a lone
canvas-back, with long neck stretched out, comes right
by them within twenty yards, the sculler shuts his lips
firmly together. A strong temptation; but he resists it,
and the canvas-back, unaware of his narrow escape goes
steadily along. A slight breeze is blowing, the sculler
takes advantage of it: he knows well that the geese
will rise against the wind, offering him side shots. Now
mark ! the scull-boat is within 80 yards of the geese,
and the utmost skill of the sculler is called into play ;
his form slides down, down into the bottom of the boat ;
now he uses but one hand, yet that hand works steadily
and regularly as a clock ; silently the oar cleaves the
water, never making a ripple. Nothing can now be
seen except that silent hand working to and fro, giving
the lateral and propelling power to the oar.

GOOSE SHOOTING.

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 289

The geese, fifteen in number, stand silently on the
ice-covered bar, some asleep, with heads under theiz
wings, some standing like statues in the clear light,
others moving slowly to and fro, while the old gander
occasionally gives a reassuring honk, as if to tell them
that “all’s well.” Suddenly and quickly he turns and
looks inquiringly and intently at the-ice covered boat.
No quicker was he than the sculler, for instantaneously
the sculler’s hand is still, and two cool eyes look stead-
ily through the thick blind at the flock. The gander
gives a low honk of warning ; at once heads are drawn
from beneath their wings; the walking is stopped ; and
they all turn toward the approaching object and look at
it with suspicion. How the sculler reads their thoughts!
He knows that there is no danger of flight, until some
greater uneasiness than this is shown, until they have
chattered in consultation, or have walked inquiringly
around fora closer examination. They seem reassured
and relapse into their former state of inactivity. The boat
is now near enough for the hunters to shoot. The
seuller softly but sharply whistles. Quick as lightning
fifteen black necks are stretched in air; they begin to
honk, to gather themselves for flight. A swift move-
ment of the sculling oar veers the boat, and from bow to
stern the guns roar, followed by the honking of the
frightened and escaping birds. The boat is forced up
on the bar, cripples secured, dead picked up, and we
count seven Canada geese in the boat.

Shooting geese on sand-bars is done with or without
decoys ; the latter being the most successful way.
Many old hunters go on year after year not profiting
by the experience of their fellow craft, and shoot these

birds on sand-bars as they come in at night, depending
19)

290 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

entirely on their great experience and judgment to
select a place where the geese will come in to roost.
If they would only use decoys they would more than
double their success ; as the geese flying around and
intending after some promiscuous sailing, to alight on the
same bar, will avoid it at the sight of the least sus-
picious object, whereas, with decoys they naturally
presume from the fact of seeing those of their kind,
that things are all right, and come in without hesitancy.

The difficulty met with in bar-shooting generally is
in making a suitable blind. But the hunter is equal to
the emergency. He selects a sand-bar where he has
noticed geese roost at night, digs a hole, and sinks a
barrel or shallow box—the latter he can lie down in—
places it beneath the sand, where its top will be about
level with the surface of the bar, puts some hay in the
bottom upon which to lie, sets his decoys out, goes to
his blind late in the afternoon and patiently waits for
the expected geese.

If he does not make a blind such as described, he
takes advantage of the protecting shadow of an old
stump or log, hugs close to it, and is as still and immoy-
able as the log itself, until the proper time arrives to
shoot. Then again, dressed in dirty old canvas clothes,
pants drawn over his long boots to cover their blackness,
with hat the color of the sand, he lies on a tan-colored
rubber blanket, sprinkles sand on its outer edges, puts
a liberal supply over his feet and legs, and waits silent-
ly for the coming geese. He fires when they are over
land, for should the dead fall in the water, the swift
current speedily carries them away, and he knows it is
almost impossible to capture a cripple in a swift flow-
ing stream.

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 291

The flight begins about sundown, and they keep com-
ing in until dark, and long after dark, but there is
never any doubt of their coming, for they are as regu-
lar in their coming and going as the day itself.

On moonlight nights, they frequently delay their ar-
rival till after the sun has set, and twilight disappeared,
flying in in great, discordant, honking flocks. The air is
alive with dim forms, shown sufficiently plain by the
moon’s soft light, to afford fair aim to the shooter.
The hoarse “ Ah--unk, Ah-unk,” of the Canadas ;
the “ Ah—ul, Ah-ul” of the Hutchin’s geese, the shrill
ery of the brant, the chattering of the snow-geese,

all uttered at the same time, makes a babel of voices
absolutely deafening. The snowy-white of the laugh-
ing goose, the larger brant, the still larger Hutchin’s
goose, circle around the hunter, but he pays no atten-
tion to them; for another kind he bides his time.

*“'The rising moon has hid the stars
Her level rays like golden bars
Lie on the landscape green,

With shadows brown between.
And silver-white the river gleams
As if Diana, in her dreams,

Had dropped her silver bow.”

Facing the moon he sees great phantom forms dim-
ly by her light, and as these shadows pass before her
bright face, he rises and hastily fires—the darkness,
the smoke, prohibit his seeing anything. For an in-
stant, blinded as he is by the streak of fire that leaps
from his gun, he listens. Thump! Thump! he hears
on the sand ; then a swish on the water. He knows two
have fallen on the ground, and a third in the water.
He runs and hastily picks them off the sand-bar, but

292 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

pays no attention to the one in the water, knowing it
cannot be had. The two he has are the largest of
their kind.

And now that we have seen how geese are killed
from sculling boats on the Mississippi, on sand-bars in
the Missouri, the Mississippi and Platte rivers, let us
ascend the ladder of goose-shooting farther, and having
passed its lower rounds, seat ourselves for a while on
its pinnacle, and from that extreme height, forget for a
time the milk of the articles written of or on sculling
and sand-bars, and partake of the cream of this grand
sport, which we will skim off from the plains of Nebras-
ka and the fields of Dakota. I have hunted geese in
both. But the scenes and incidents described will be
from actual experience in Nebraska near the Platte
river. Many of you have been over the Union Pacific
Railroad through Nebraska, and are quite familiar
with its scenery. Level and flat, with slight, and very
shght, undulations, a country where the eye can look
forth on a plain, and see the blue sky kissing the way-
ing grass, forming a distant line, miles and miles from
the observer, a perfect ocean of prairie land.

The time of goose-shooting here is both in spring and
fall. In the spring, being on their journey to the North,
warm days makes them uneasy. They dislike to stay,
and feeling that their summer residence is in repair,
and waiting for occupancy, they hurriedly depart.

In the fall it is different. They are returning bound
for their Southern homes. Coming as they do as the ad-
vance-guard, the sure precursors of cold wintry months,
they seem to have confidence in their ability to
keep in advance of howling winds and_ drifting
snows, and make along and welcome visit on the Platte.

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 2938

They arrive in large numbers, from the first to the
middle of November, and only leave when frozen rivers
and snow-covered ground warns them to depart. They
roost on the sand bars in the Platte River. At dawn
of day they fly out to their feeding grounds, return to
the river about ten A. M., sit idly on the bars, picking up
gravel, or asleep, until three or four in the afternoon ;
then go to the fields again for feed, stay till sundown,
then come back to the river, where they remain till morn-
ing. This performance is gone through with day after
day, always without variance. So regular are they on
their arrival and departure that after timing them for
two or three days, one could set one’s watch by the
flight of these birds, and could safely wager on its
being within fifteen minutes of standard time. When
they are ready to start out to feed, they first show un-
easiness in their movements, a few sharp honks of the
ganders calls “attention, company!” Then after pre-
liminary flapping of wings by some, one flock will leave,
soon another, then another at short intervals, until the
bar is deserted. The first flock sets the course, and
the balance fly nearly as possible over the same route.
The hunter knows this and hides himself in the grass,
in the corn, or behind a fence, and gets flight shooting.
The birds are ever on the watch, avoid corn fields and
grassy spots when they can, and will almost invariably
rise in their flight when going over a fence. Windy
days are best for shooting. The hunter should
choose a day when they will fly against a strong head
wind, going or returning from their feeding grounds.
At such times they fly low and are easily shot.

There is a peculiarity about their feeding; that is,
where they go to feed. They will fly from the river,

294 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

going ten, even fifteen miles to feed, passing over the
choicest corn, buckwheat, stubble and plowed ground,
and then alight and feed in a spot not nearly as rich as
safe or as protected as many of those passed over.

The most successful manner, indeed the only way to
shoot them, after they leave the river, is to shoot them
over decoys, using such profile decoys as I have de-
scribed. The hunter firing from pits dug in the
ground. The pits are usually dug before the day of
shooting. The hunter notes where the geese have
been coming in to feed, and there he digs a round hole,
sufficiently deep, that when on his knees (an unusual
position for most hunters), by elevating his head a
little, he can peep over the edge of the hole. The
diameter of the pit should be large enough to allow him
to turn easily and quickly, that he may shoot from any
direction without inconvenience. The dirt thrown
out is carefully smashed or hid with grass; the edges
of the blind sprinkled with a little hay and an occasional
corn stalk, so that everything will look natural. He
then places out his decoys, scattered all around him,
forming a circle about thirty yards in diameter.
He being in his pit in the centre, great care is taken
that the decoys shall be placed so that the broad side
of the profile will show plainly from any direction the
geese may come.

Less than four years ago my brother George and my-
self spent two days with these honkers, near the Platte
river. One cold November morning, almost in Decem-
ber, found us at break of day, impatiently waiting the
flight, secreted in the recesses of an old fence,
thoroughly hidden from sight by great tumbling weeds,
which the Northwest wind drove upon us. The whis-

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 295

tling wind, the flurrying snow, the obscure fields, seen
indistinetly in the faint light of approaching day,—
aliseemed cold and cheerless. Suddenly George called,
‘Mark, south!” A heavy shaped line was pointed
toward us. A guttural honk came from the leader,
he received an answer from George which was so true,
that although I expected it, it fairly startled me. On
they came, now straight ahead, then the strong wind
would veer them. With renewed and extra strength
they came against it, arising to a greater height in cross-
ing the fence. Too far for me, but George quickly
arose, two loud reports rang out in the blustering air,
and two geese fell dead. A pretty double shot. At
the report of the gun the flock tried to escape. The
strong wind caught them, and like a flash they were
carried a hundred yards, when they again advanced, far
to our right, honking excitedly.

It was now daylight, and the flight was at its thickest.
We lay hidden in behind the fence, improving every
opportunity. Our decoys were near us in the pasture,
but did us but little good, the geese flying around them,
then alighting in the centre of the field, seeming to be
afraid of the fence, we saw the trouble, but it was too
late to remedy it, for geese were in sight nearly all
the time. Our shots were long and high, but we were
as successful as could be expected, situated as we were.
A large flock coming right over. We knocked down
three ; then from another we would get one, sometimes
two and from one flock I sueceeded in getting three,
two with my first, one with my second barrel. At this
time the sun had risen, the geese had all left the river.
We knew the shooting had stopped, and picking up the
dead, found we had ten. Afterwards picking up an-
other, we saw fall far from us, fully half a mile.

296 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

There is one thing the hunter should never forget,
that is, to mark the flight of a goose he feels satisfied
he has hit hard. They will often fly off, to all appear-
ances unhurt, only to let go everything after flying
from 75 to 500 yards, and then fall stone dead, making
a resounding thud on the frozen ground, not unlike
thumping the earth with a stuffed club. It is surpris-
ing how far one can hear this thud, and I can safely
say, without fear of contradiction, that a goose falling
on the frozen ground from a height of sixty to eighty
yards with a slight wind blowing toward the shooter,
the thud can be heard three quarters of a mile, if not
farther. Geese are very tenacious of life, and some-
times after being hard hit will rise in the air, set their
wings, and sail toward the earth, slightly descending,
without a quiver of their set wings, and finally alight
softly on their feet, teeter forward, then backward,
and pitch forward again dead, with outstretched wings.
As we were riding along through the tall bottom grass,
which in the low land waved its flaunting yellow points
at our sides, occasionally we heard the faint honk of a
goose. We tried our best to locate it, scanning closely
every point of the now blue sky. At the North, hung
heavily against the heavens a long stretch of what the
residents called bluffs. They were hills, reaching per-
haps an actual elevation of fifty feet, sloping gently
back from the bottom land. We were coming from tle
South, and as far as the eye could see in the direction
of the East and West, there was one unbroken line of
rank coarse slough grass interspersed with fields of
yellow corn, and an occasional farm house, that stood
out in bold relief against the bright s’y, with its
drifting white and blue clouds. The driver called our

JANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING, 297

attention to the broken line of grass, and knowing
there was an opening of some kind, drove toward it.
All was silent as death, not a sound could be heard, ex-
cept that made by ourselves. As we emerged from the
tall grass, what a sight there was before us! Never did
I see a sight so novel, so thoroughly impressive. I am
a lover of Nature, and more than half the pleasure of
the chase is afforded me by what I see and hear, when
out in the solitude of the woods, floating on the rip-
pling water, or feeling the cheerful wind as it gently
plays around, thrilling through me when on the open
prairie. There, right before us, stood an army. Yes,
an army—not of men, but of geese. They were in com-
plete possession of an old pasture, containing about
eighty acres ; from whose surface the grass had been so
closely cropped by herds of cattle that the grass
struggled through the ground striving hard for an ex-
istence. The pasture itself was level; as level as a
floor, and here and there were congregated a vast mul-
titude of geese, encamped like soldiers of some great
commonwealth, calmly resting, passively recruiting
their fatigued bodies, after some tiresome foraging ex-
pedition. At one point, aside from the main flock a
knot of five or six stood as if in consultation. These
evidently were the generals and officers, planning some
gigantic attack on the neighboring stubble or corn
fields. Here and there sentinels paced leisurely along,
the warning guards for the indolent tribe; then again
we saw them in platoons, in corps, in companies, in reg-
iments, all trying to catch their noon-day nap. They
were scattered this way throughout the entire field.
To make the scene still more realistic, the mass of gray
and black was prominently relieved by miniature walls

298 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

of pure white, as we gazed at the huddled bunches of
snow-geese, standing closely together, forming tents of
the purest white, we imagined them the legions of a
vast encampment.

How often that sight has returned to me, and how I
have wished that nature had endowed me with, the
skill to have sketched, then reproduced in oil that grand
scene, for I have always felt that it was the acme, the
extreme, the most picturesquely beautiful of any I had
ever seen of wild life.

We had a span of young horses ; they were fiery and
restless 5 they were anxious to go, and the wind blow-
ing fresh, the ground hard, smooth and free from ruts,
we told the driver to let themrun. Off they went like
the wind, toward the geese. A few preliminary honks,
and then a thousand gray bodies moved closely together
and stretched up their long black necks in wonder and
affri¢ht. As we neared them, from a thousand throats
discordant sounds were uttered by the frightened birds.
We gained on them, but their long, slow sweep of wide
wings was too much for speedy horses, and the field was
soon left to our control and occupancy.

It was extremely foolish to have done this, but
carried away with excitement and thinking they would
return again later in the afternoon, we drove them out
thoroughly alarmed.

Our blind we made in the centre of the field, far
from the fence. We at first thought it impossible to
make one that would conceal us, and not frighten the
geese. I had noticed a sprinkling of corn stalks scat-
tered here and tiere on the black ground, and we de-
cided to have a blind. We spread an old horse blanket
on the damp ground, got some hay, a few corn stalks,

CANADA GOOSE-SHUOOTING. 299

put a little hay under the blanket for a pillow, set
out our decoys, laid ourselves down, carefully sprinkled
a little hay anda few stalks over us, and thanking St.
Hubert (the sainted huntsman) that our corporosity
was not Sancho Panzan, patiently waited the result of
our experiment.

We did not wait long. A wandering goose, alone,
a prodigal, returned, answered our call, and coming over
us at a height of fully 60 yards, was shot dead. After
being hit it came down straight for our blind, like a
chunk of lead. We sprung quickly out, involuntarily
admitting its right of possession. Down it came,a gray
streak. I dodged, and it struck the ground with ter-
rific force, not three feet from me. Had that goose
struck me, it would have fallen on George to have per-
formed the unpleasant duty of telling just how I had
been killed. We afterwards learned it weighed a trifle
over 12 lbs. We were now satisfied our blind was a
success, and expected fun throughout the afternoon,
und we were not disappointed. A flock returning from
the river, away up, headed for us. We * honked,” but
no reply ; again we tried, stillnoanswer. ‘I'm afraid
they will pass us,” said George. Just then a coarse
* Ah-unk”’ vibrated in the air, and we knew that set-
tled it, that they would come down. For a moment
all was still except our soliciting cries ; then * Ah-unk,
Ah-unk,” they answered in quick succession. From
their great height they started, each trying to get ahead
of the other. They came down almost perpendicularly,
with a swift, waiving, swinging flight, apparently al-
lowing their weight to sink them and only using their
wings to steady themselves, giving a peculiar lateral
motion, swerving their bodies first one side, then the

300 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

other, as we often see mallards, blue-bills, or pin-tails
do when coming down vertically from a great height to
wight among their kind. They were fully 100 yards
behind us. Lying on the flat of our backs we could
not see very well, and dared not move. George bent
back his head and watched them through a peep-hole
in his eyebrows ; while I could indistinctly see them
by looking cross-eyed over the end of my nose. On
they came with set wings, right over us. We let them
pass by: they were only about 30 yards above and from
us. Quickly arising to a sitting position, we let drive,
George at the left wing of the flock, I at the right, and
down came four, each making a double. George turned
to me, never cracking a smile, and said “Shake.” I
put on a serio-comic look, accepted his proffered hand,
and looking him straight in the face remarked that it
was a “ beautiful day.” ‘+ Very” replied he, and then
le burst out into a loud laugh. There is a quiet satis-
faction that can only be known, and must have been ex-
perienced, to enjoy, when two hunters both make
‘doubles.’ Nothing may be said at the time, perhaps
not at all, but they both appreciate it just the same.

A large flock coming toward us quickly turned off,
as if in fright. The cause was clear, a young man was
approaching us in the exposed field. Walking directly
up to us, he commenced to talk, and his first words dis-
closed his misfortune,—an impediment in his speech.

Said he, “ I-yi-yi thu-thu-ought I-yi-yi wou-wu-would
cu-cu-cu-ome 0-0-over.”

“You are welcome, young man,” replied George,
“but don’t you see we are in a blind, and geese coming
all: the time? They will see you. If we can do any-
thing for you, we will gladly do so, but let us know
at once, and then move quickly.”

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING 301

“J-yi-yi am in no hu-hu-hurry,” replied he, “ gu-gu-
guess I-yi-yi wi-wi-will ge-ge-get in th-th-the b-bl-lind
wi-wi-with you.” Then he gave a gulp to catch more
wind.

“Well, I guess you won’t,” said George, “we have
built this blind, were here first, and don’t hardly think
we will let you in with those dark clothes, to spoil our
shooting; besides, the geese are apt to return any time,
and you had better go.”

* Du-du-don’t bu-bu-be a-la-la-larmed,” said he, “ the
gu-gu-geese wo-wo-won't be hu-hu-here till qua-wah-
warter after thu-thur-ree.”

Well, thought I, this young man has got the goose
time-table down pretty fine, and told him so.

“It’s aw-aw-all riri-right,” he replied, “ you-you
wi-wi-will see. Th-he-they lull-lull-leave the plull-lill-
latt at thu-thu-thu-ree, and get hu-hu-here qua-wah-
warter after thu-thu-thu-ree.”

George looked at his watch and smilingly said, * It’s
ten minutes after three now, and according to what you
say they ought to be here soon.”

The boy looked at us in great alarm, “ so-so la-late ?”
“ J-yi-yi mu-mu-must be go-go-going and hi-hi-hide in a
}u-bu-bl-lind, for th-th-they wi-wi-will su-su-soon bu-bu-
be here.” And away he started for another field. This
boy had watched the flight of geese all the fall, and no
doubt had noted the time of their going and coming ;
for, as I said before in this article, they are to be de-
pended upon as to the time of their going to and from
the feeding grounds ; and by actually noting the time
the first flock came, we killed a couple within five
minutes of the time the boy said they would come.
The boy wasn’t out of sight, and when he saw us shoot,

302 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

waived his hat in the air, as much as to say, “ I-yi-yi
tu-tu-told you so.” There was then a steady flight, not
frequent, but of regular intervals for two hours, and we
had splendid shooting, having killed 21 or 22 during”
the day.

Most ornithologists ascribe to Canada geese too little
weight. While it is true some weigh six and seven
pounds only, others go much higher, and we weighed
12 of the largest of the geese we killed, and found
they averaged over 11 Ibs. each.

What they callin Nebraska “ Hutchin’s geese,” are
exactly like the Canadas, but weigh six to eight pounds :
they are more plenty than their larger cousins, and are
killed in greater numbers.

The folowing morning at break of day, indeed before
that time, we were in our * pits” in an old corn field—
a bitter cold morning, 6° below zero. We had excellent
sport, and the heavy thud of the dead geese was very
exhilarating. We needed something to warm us up,
and—really, I have forgotten whether or not Nebraska
is a prohibition State. Yes, I think it is; anyway, the
falling of the geese warmed us up. During the after-
noon we had a practical illustration of what a “ fool
of a goose” is. One came over our blind, sailed and
circled around, apparently afraid to come to the decoys.
At last he came over, way up where it would have
been an accident to have killed him. Both barrels
were fired at him, and he flew off unhurt. There
being no others moving, we watched him. He went
on and on for fully a mile, then came back, set his
wings, sailed in over the decoys, and would have lit,
had he not been killed within twenty yards of us. Dur-

ing the day we killed 23, mostly Canadas.

CANADA GOOSE-SHOOTING. 303

Now, a word to the amateur goose hunters. Of
course, to hunt them with success you must go where
they are, and go prepared. Never go without profile
decoys. When you arrive at your destination, if a
stranger, get acquainted with some local hunter who
knows the grounds, and how to hunt them. Follow
his advice. But be extremely cautious about writing
for a good place to go ; always bear in mind that there
are descendants of Ananias living wherever game
frequents. I can say this with safety and confidence,
for I once took a trip on a “ wild goose chase,” and was
badly deceived, wilfully too, for the man who wrote me
knew shooting was very poor, “but thought it might
be all right by time I got there.” Then be extremely
cautious where and when you go, and when you find
the right place, improve it. Practice the imitation of
their cries, and always answer their call, as near as
you can. If you are sure they are coming to your
decoys, don’t call too often, lest they discover the
deception ; but call softly, just so they will hear you,
and they will come near to you. Place your hand over
your mouth, so the hollow of your hand will throw the
sound down to the ground, then call gently in a sooth-
ing, coaxing tone; you are trying to win their confidence
now, and must use your sweetest notes. Should you
wing a goose, tie it among or very near the decoys, it
will prove obstinate at first, and sullenly lay for a
time with neck outstretched, but will soon get over
that, and standing on its feet will eall loudly to its com-
panions, as they fly over. You will find this call an
improvement on your own, even if you get to be an ex-
pert at calling them; besides, the goose will be quickly
noticed, as 1t moves around, restrained by the string by
which it is secured.

804 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

The descriptions given here of the manner of hunt-
ing geese apply to all species found throughout the
Northwest. I have confined this sketch to the shoot-
ing of Canada geese, because they are the largest and
most desirable to hunt. With them, throughout
Nebraska and Dakota will be found associated all
other varieties, such as Hutchin’s, Snow or Laughing
goose, and Brant. In the long narrative given of their
habits and resorts I have explained fully how to find
them, and after haying found them, how to hunt them
according to the most approved method. If I have
succeeded in this, then my object has been accomplished ;
and the reader can rest assured, that should he be
blessed with the opportunity of finding the flight of
these birds, which can only be done at the right season
and place, and will then try toremember the result of
my own practical experiences as set forth by me, and
bearing them always in mind, faithfully follow them
he cannot fail of success, and will feel more than re-
paid for his patience in carefully reading this chapter,
for in it is shown how to find and kill wild geese under
all circumstances.

BOATS. 305

CHAPTER XXXII.
BOATS.

No duck-hunter can consider his hunting outfit com-
plete without a boat. It doesn’t matter whether he is
in the vicinity of water, where a boat may be used
to advantage, or whether he lives far from ponds
of considerable size, lakes, or rivers. If he expects to
hunt ducks and do so with suecess, he should have
a boat. The fact that he owns an excellent re-
triever does not alter the case. Perhaps this is putting
the matter almost too strong, but my desire is to impress
on the mind of the beginner that to wage war success-
fully he must be properly accoutred. We can easily
imagine spots where most excellent duck-shooting
may be had in corn-fields, small, grassy prairie ponds,
marshes and like places, when a boat is not a necessity
—on the contrary, an inconvenience. But such places
as these are the exception and not the rule, and no
matter how good a dog one has, in overtlow, points
over decoys and in large marshes, and especially in
deep and swift water, the hunter finds himself at great
disadvantage unless he has a boat at hand. A dog at
such places is also at times a necessity, but a boat is
desirable to reach the feeding grounds, or a point
where the flight is constantly passing over, or to pass
over and across a deep stream, and finally locate the

hunter where ducks are haying their midday frolic and
20

306 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

repasts. Your long boots will not do it. Your desires
are strong. vour hearts are willing to go to this place,
but at your feet there flows deep, gurgling water,
frowning at you in murky sullenness: or seeming to
pleasantly smile, as tiny eddies revolve on its surface,
then silently disappear. Has the reader ever experi-
enced this? When he has approached just such a
stream as this unawares, having constantly in view cir-
cling ducks, long-necked pin-tails, swishing blue-bills,
darting red-heads and gently-alighting mallards, their
quacking greeting your willing ears with sweetest ca-
dence, you see them dropping in only about one hun-
dred yards in advance of you, never thinking for a mo-
ment there is anything to prevent your getting among
them, until suddenly you step forth from beneath the
scraggy trees or the tall rice, and find deep water an
impassable barrier. Have you ever been there? If
you have, I know perfectly well how you felt. ‘The
experience is very fresh in my mind how I once came
to a place of this kind, and was stopped by a flowing
and apparently endless stream. At my side was my
companion, one of the best retrievers that ever lived.
We stood there watching the flight, unable to get near
the birds. The dog took in the prospect and would
cast his brown eyes sorrowfully on me, as if regretting
the situation. I stood at this place for hours, shooting
at high-flyers and stragglers, while all the time in this
haven they had found, I could constantly see a deluge
of feathers dropping down through the trees. How I
wished for a boat, a raft—in fact anything to have got-
ten across. As it was, I killed twelve mallards . as it
should have been, with a boat, no doubt I would have
bagged from seventy-five to one hundred.

BOATS. 307

What kind of a boat a person requires depends en-
tirely on where he expects to use it. When he has
fully made up his mind to have a boat, he should as
fully and knowingly decide what style of boat he wants.
Remember tlis, that there 1; a great similarity in
duck-shooting on all Western waters, whether in tim-
ber, river, lake or marsh, and a boat that will do in one
place will do in almost every other. This being the
ease the hunter should buy or build one that will an-
swer forall places. Do not expect to combine great
speed, sea-going qualities, lightness of draught and
weight, all in one hunting-boat, or you will be disap-
pointed. These combined, make too many virtues for
one frail craft to carry. The one great desideratum in
a duck-boat, the thing to which every other is as
naught, is safety above all things else. Bear this in
mind when you select the boat, so that when you are
possessed of one, your imagination cannot depict to
you circumstances and times when you will fear dan-
ger by upsetting or swamping. Your life is dependent
on the staunchness and build of your boat. I won't say
skiff, for a skiff isn’t a hunting boat. It is all right for
what it is intended, but was never intended to hunt
with, except as a dray for luggage. When you have
fully made up your mind on a boat, consider that im
duck-shooting the boat must be used in lakes and riv-
ers, In ponds and marshes, in swift-flowing streams,
streams surging and seething from recent rains and
melted snows; that unaided by human power, the boat
carried along at five, six, and even eight miles an hour,
when coming suddenly around some willow point, is
driven by the torrent of waters entirely beyond your
control, it shoots ahead and becomes entangled in sticks

B08 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

and logs and floating debris, and quickly strands on
some submerged tree, whose roots cling to the fast-
washing bank. The boat swerves one way, then an-
other, finally the water surges against its sides, then
rushes beneath it, only to appear again on the opposite
side, while hundreds of whirling eddies spin in the
caldron of foam. In the spring overflows this is no
exaggerated simile, but may be expected any time.
Your boat should be one, then, that when you get in
such places, no shadow of fear should pass over your
face, no palpitation of the heart be experienced, no
anxiety for family, no thought ef unpaid and_ possibly
expired life insurance policies. On the contrary, you
should feel free to sit still and enjoy the scene, with
perfect_confidence in the safety of your boat, feeling
that 1t cannot upset, and that the boiling eddies around
you are powerless to engulf it; that in your boat noth-
ing less than a maelstrom could bring disaster.

Then again, your boat will oftentimes be your com-
panion. Mine has carried me through marshes in I[Ili-
nois, rivers in Iowa, lakes in Dakota; indeed, I never
think of going off on a duck hunt, when large bodies
of water are to be hunted in, unless my boat goes with
me. ‘To have a boat that is easy to handle is an abso-
lute necessity, for the boat must go by express, or as
freight, or hauled on wagons and handled by men not
noted for carefulness. This being the case, it should
be short of length ; to afford stability, it should be broad
of beam; not to be conspicuous, it should sit low on the
water; to afford a blind, it should be decked over at
bow and sides, the combing of the cock-pit extending
about four inches above the decking. When loaded
and trimmed as a blind her guards should extend only

BOATS. 309

about three inches above the water. When choppy
waves threaten to engulf you they will be speedily re-
pelled by the combing of the pit. The waves at times
seem about to break in on you. Instinctively you draw
yourself together as one comes toward you; it breaks
against the sides, overflows the decking, is warded off
by the combing, then rapidly down along the boat’s
decking, and merrily trickles back into the water again,
not a drop going into the boat. There is a vast fund
of pleasure in hunting in one of these boats, that defies
pen description. An illustration will show what can be
done with them when other means fail.

A few years ago in Goose Lake, in this county, Mr.
Ben Woodward and myself dropped in on the natives
unannounced, with one of these boats and twenty-five
decoys. When the inhabitants of the village saw us
they volunteered the information that ‘we wouldn’t
kill a duck.” Said there were some flying over the lake,
but came in high and pitched down in the centre of the
lake, and that no man could get them. We trimmed
our boat to represent a muskrat house, laid portions of
muskrat bed on the sides, pushed into grass about two
feet high, lay flat on our backs until the ducks got right
over our decoys, and that afternoon and the next fore-
noon hagged nearly 70 ducks. When we brought in
the birds the citizens were greatly astounded. We
were feted (at our own expense), and accorded the
freedom of the village.

To build a duck-boat requires practical as well as
theoretical skill, and while I give in this article the
measurements requisite to build one such as I use, which
my experience has demonstrated to be the best in use,
I would not advise an inexperienced person to

319 WILD FOWL SILOOTING.

attempt to build one. The model must be perfect, the
seams impervious to water, the joints, ribs and sides of
uniform and correct proportions, and it would be far
better to let an experienced boat builder build you one
than to undertake it yourself. They should be built of
white pine or cedar, and when finished with oars, locks
and sculling oar, should cost from $40 to $60. A
pretty steep price, think you? That depends on the
way you look at it. If proper care is taken of it, it will
last ten to twenty years. I saw one a year ago in use in
excellent condition, that [ used to hunt in when a boy,
over twenty years ago. But no man deserves to have
a good boat unless le knows how to take the best of
care of it. When not in use, it should be protected
from the weather in a cool, shady place. Before using
in the spring and fall it should be carefully examined,
and painted when needed. When taken on the cars,
if possible to do so, load and unload it yourself. All
brakemen ‘*smoke,” but they have very little respect
for a hunting boat when the owner is absent. When
conveyance is necessary on a wagon, slip an extra quar-
ter into the hand of your bucolic driver and ask him to
restrain Pegasus and DBucephalus; at the same time
walk at the side of the wagon, and see that the wagon
stakes don’t shove a hole through the frail sides. A
boat is a part of your outfit—the most important part.
This being the case, your safety depending on it, as a
matter of self-preservation, if not love for it, you should
guard it. Are you a farmer, dear reader? If so, don’t
use your boat like your neighbor does his reaper, his
harrow, his plow, his farm machinery, after he has fin
ished his season’s work, but give it a protected place
and proper shelter. You should take just as good care

BOATS. Siu

of it as you would of your gun. I know itis lots of trou-
ble, but your reward in having a tight boat in excellent
condition, ought to be sufficient recompense for the
labor spent. In such a case one should feel, * Labor
ypse voluptas, ’—labor itself is a pleasure.

Canvas boats are made which are good and safe for
hunting purposes. The Bond-metal boat is good and
very handy, being sectional, it ean be divided, and two
shoot in it with safety, one in each section. For wild
rice and marsh shooting the Wilson duck-boat is one of
the finest I ever saw, but quite expensive. This boat
ismads of very heavy tin, equal to No. 24 iron, weight
about 70 pounds. Any practical boat-builder can build
you a boat, but be sure and have it made as you and
notas he wants to make it. Following are the measure-
ments of boats I use. They can be rowed, sculled or
punted.

Length, 12 1—2 feet; beam, 8 ft. 6 in. to 4 ft.;
depth, 10 1--2 inches; deck, 4 feet. There should
he a rake of 10 in., commencing 5 feet from the
stem, running back to the stern, so it will not dragand
make a noise, and ripple. Stern board, five and a half
inches. A rake should run up to bow, leaving bow 6
to8 in. high. The bow should be shape of sled runner
so as to glide easily over sticks and moss. Keelson, 5
inches wide, of oak. The best way to build a boat is
of five-eighths strips midship one and a half inch wide,
tapering to half an inch at ends; oak bows on inside
3-8ths in. thick, one and one quarter inch. wide, about
10 to 12in. apart. Knees of oak, the edges of the strips
forming the sides, should be thoroughly covered with
white lead and nailed together every 4 to 6 in. through
the edges. These strips should also be well nailed

312 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

through the oak ribs and clinched. Combing of cock—
pit 4in. above the decking ; wash-board extendingfrom
combing of cock-pit about 8 in. wide. Fenders on si:le
for row-locks. Make them half length of cock-pit;
they will then do for carrying boat or dragging it.
They should be a trifle higher than combing. Scull-
hole in stern-board 4 in. from top of board, and two and
one half inch in diameter. The hole should be lined
with leather, or lead, and a tight fitting plug kept in
when not in use. The scull-oar and oars where they
come in contact with the locks and boat should be
bound with leather. Use a half inch rope at the bow-
If you use a chain—its noisy clanking will spoil many
a chance for a shot.

THE SHOT-GUN, AND HOW TO USE IT. old

CHAE PER 2OOXEIE
THE SHOT-GUN, AND HOW TO USE IT.

In a book of this kind, where wild fowl is the first,
and every thing else a secondary consideration, the
reader can readily see the impossibility of reviewing
the shot-gun, except In a cursory manner ; although a
frank confession prompts me to admit I would like to.

“The explosive force of gun powder having been dis-
covered in the fourteenth century, active inquiry was
made how to confine this destructive element to the
purposes of war. And it is a matter of interest to be
able to recall the fact that so long ago as that time
breech-loading cannon were made. We cannot spare
the time or space to dwell on these things that are a
matter of history, but carried along as if by a panorama,
let our thoughts dwell lightly on them, and consider
them as they are, as of bygone ages.

In 1630 the flint lock was invented in Spain; for
two centuries it was considered par excellence in the
art of gun-making. At about the beginning of the
nineteenth century Joseph Manton invented improve-
ments, that made him the most renowned inventor of
his day. Being a skilled artisan, ambitious, ever pro-
gressive and honest, his make of guns gained world re-
nowned celebrity, and were considered perfect models
of elegance and beauty, and unsurpassed in shooting

powers.

514 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

In this article I shall only suggest such guns as are
in my opinion suitable for wild fowl shooting, and ad-
visable for the amateur to buy for that purpose. The
days of the muzzle-loader having past, we cannot refer
to them, except with sincere respect and loving regard
for the many happy hours they have afforded us, and
certainly, no man of a life experience with a shot gun
can feel otherwise toward them. We must deposit
them in the archives of memory, as instruments of de-
parted worth.

In the selection of a gun for wild-fowl shooting, we
will bear in mind it is for inland birds, and our object
should be, to select such an one as will answer for other
shooting as well. The standard gauges used in the
West are Nos. 10 and 12, with the preponderance largely
in favor of No. 10; although the tendency at the present
time is for smaller bores. But this change is more for
the trap and upland birds than for wild-fowl. As the
young hunter desires to be put on an equal footing with
his companions, his decision is for a ten bore, the
reason being that he can use larger and more effective
Joads. He is merely a beginner and chance will aid
him often, bringing down his bird with this gun when
he would miss with a 16 or 20 bore, with a less charge
of shot. To an expert, this does not necessarily apply ;
for an experienced shot will kill with an ounce of shot,
with almost the same regularity he does with 11-4 0z.,
because he gauges the speed, the height and distance,
and places no reliance on scattered pellets, but hits the
bird fairly with the centre of the charge, or scores a
clean miss.

Should the beginner decide on buying a gun, he is
soon lost in the sea of uncertainty, not knowing what

THE SHOT-GUN,.AND HOW TO USE IT. 316

make to get. He wades through catalogues, and ad-
vises with friends. The further he investigates the
deeper he gets into the mire, and is almost tempted to
give up in despair. What gun ought he to buy? A
gun of any reputable manufacturer, for in these pro-
gressive times no one maker has discovered a golden
secret that enables him to make the only good gun.
Let the buyer select the make of any one of established
reputation, and the gun will suit him. Competition is
too strong to permit any maker to put on to the market
a poorly constructed gun. There are, of course, pecul-
iarities of manufacture of bolts, lugs, slides, and boring
that may be especial virtues in one kind of gun, but
no gun has them all to the exclusion of all others. But
of established makers, their work is all good. The
price to be paid depends on what the purchaser wishes
to pay. But he can depend on one thing, that is, that
an established gun maker will not sell him a poor arm
at any price. There are three classes of gun-barrels
used in the construction of guns. Damascus, laminated,
and twist. Quoting from the Rod and Gun, these
barrels are made as follows: ** The Damascus barrel is
formed by taking nearly equal proportions of refined
iron and steel bars. These are placed in piles or
‘fagoted,’ and then heated and thoroughly welded to-
gether. The bar thus formed is cut into equal lengths,
again fagoted, welded under a trip-hammer, drawn into
narrow rods, and these are then twisted. To make thie
best Damascus barrel, three of these twisted rods are
placed alongside of each other and forged into a ribbon
of the dimensions of cross-section of one half inch by
seven-sixteenths for the breech end of the barrel, and
one-half by three-sixteenths of an inch for the muzzle

316 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

end. ‘The ribbon is now wrapped around a mandrel,
and its convolutions are firmly welded together at a
white heat by hammering the ribbon on the mandrel
while placed in a semi-cylindrical groove. Another
portion is added to that just formed by jumping and
hammering till the length of the barrel is completed.

“Laminated steel barrels are formed of ribbons com-
posed of six parts of steel to four of iron, and the only
difference between laminated steel and Damascus
barrels is that the ribbons composing the former are
made of rods less twisted; but the ribbons are subjected
to more hammering when on the mandrel in order to get
greater condensation and firmer welding of the fibres
of the two metals.”

The twist barrel is often called ‘stub-twist,” from
the stubs of horse-shoe nails out of which these barrels
were first made. These stubs and other scraps are
welded together, drawn into bars, then heated, and
while one end is in a notch or clamp, the other end of
the rod is attached to the axis of a crank and twisted.
At present these rods are made of selected iron, the
supply and quality of stub having fallen off. These
twisted rods are now beaten into flat bars, and then
wrapped around a mandrel, and their edges welded to-
gether. This forms the twist barrels. There is no per-
ceptible difference between Damascus and laminated
barrels, in practical use, although the Damascus are far
handsomer in appearance. The laminated seem harder
and require less care and attention in keeping clean.

Having decided what make of gun to buy, the mate-
rial of the barrels and the bore, the purchaser is ready
to select his gun. The length of the barrels, thatis,
the standard, is 30 and 32 inches. The extra length

THE SHOT-GUN, AND HOW TO USE IT. Salte

making no difference in shooting qualities as between
these two. As the 30 inch is more generally used, we
will as an illustration accept one of that leugth. The
weight depends on the physique of the party using the
gun. For wild-fowl shooting 10 bore guns run in weight
from 9 to 12 pounds. We will not be an extremist
either way. Should we accept the lighter weight, the
strong charge of powder necessary to use would make
the recoil unpleasant. This we could partially do away
with by making our charge of shot smailer. But we
are inexperienced as yet, and must not do that, for we
‘don’t want to be handicapped on our load. Should we
take the extreme weight, then our gun would be un-
pleasantly heavy and unfit for ordinary shooting. If
you are of strong build, and capable of withstanding
fatigue, choose a 10 or 10 1-2 lb. 10 bore, for you will
bear in mind that so much of your shooting will be
from blinds and boats that you can stand a heavy gun ;
besides, the heavier the gun the slighter the recoil.

If your business is such that your habits are seden-
tary, and have little opportunity for out-door enjoyment,
choose a 9 1-2 or 9 3-4 lb. 10 bore, or an 8 3-4 or 9 Ib. 12
bore. Please remember these guns we are now men-
tioning are for wild fowl shooting, not upland birds,
and great shooting power must be obtained.

Select a gun that fits you, that is, one that comes up
right. The length of one’s arms and neck have much
to do in this respect. At the same time, no rule given
generally can be accepted as true, for long-armed men,
at times, use short stocks, and short-armed men use the
contrary. The only correct way is to experiment with
guns until you find one that fits you, and take your
measurement from that. The length of the stock, meas-

318 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ured from the front trigger to the centre of the heel
plate, ranges from 14 to 14 1-2 inches, the length usu-
ally selected being 141-4. The drop of the stock, meas-
uring with a straight line from the full line of the rib
to the butt, runs from 2 1-2 to 3 3-4 inches, 3 inches be-
ing the standard American, while the English use much
straighter. Some stocks are made with a “ cast off”:
that is, the stock is made or bent a little to the right of
the true line of the rib; this brings the right eye nearer
the center of the rib, and enables one to catch a quicker
aim. The drop of the stock depends to a very great
extent on the position of the shooter. When one
stands erect he will require a crooked stock, whereas if
he stretches his feet far apart he will be surprised what
a great difference it makes. Stand in an easy, graceful
attitude, with the left leg advanced, the right but a
short distance from it, just far enough to act as a brace.
With a 10 gauge loaded with 41-2 dms. powder, the
pressure of recoil is fully 40 lbs. against the shoulder,
and unless you are prepared you will feel it. By all
means choose an easy, graceful position, for the attitude
you once assume will grow on and cling to you. Now
that you have chosen an easy way of standing, it will
not be considered as vanity on your part, but take
your gun, stand before a looking-glass, and repeatedly
sight at your right eye. If the gun fits you at the
shoulder, and each time covers the eye aimed at, so you
can see the entire line of the rib of the barrel, and the
gun’s sight pointed at the lower edge of the eye,—then
you have a gun made for you. You will, of course,
have to incline your head a little: this is essential to
throw your eye-sight down the rib.

For wild fowl shooting do not get your stock too

THE SHOT-GUN, AND HOW TO USE IT. 319

crooked. You will naturally feel inclined to do this,
because at stationary objects it will come up a little
easier; but bear in mind that wild fowl will seldom be
stationary or ona level with you; on the contrary.
they will be at an elevation, and far from you. ‘The
tendency will then be to undershoot them, and experi-
ence will demonstrate that you will undershoot twenty
times when you overshoot once.

The trigger pull should be from 41-2 to 5 Ibs. Not
less than those weights, because you are shooting with
gloves most of the time, and the trigger must not pull
too easy. Snap-shooting won’t do on ducks in the long
run, and don’t attempt it. You will find the hunter
who is a good judge of velocity, height, distance, and
the resistance of the wind, the cool, calculating shot,
and the one who is the expert in duck shooting.

The barrels should be heavy at the breech, and have
an elegant taper from the breech to the muzzle. The
stock should be oiled, not varnished. As you are a be-
ginner, have your right barrel modified choke, and the
left full choke. A modified choke is a gun that will
throw from 300 to 325 No. 8 shot in a 24 inch cirele at
35 yards, and a full choke 350 to 400 under like condi-
tions, the load being 1 1+ oz.

If a mechanic is known by the tools he uses, a sports-
man is equally known by the condition of his gun. Do
not bother with the locks, they will care for themselves :
but it is well to look at them occasionally, especial-
ly after having been out inastorm. If they then need
attention, use only the finest watch oil. If some of
your friends tell you they never clean their gun ex-
sept when going to use it, accept the suggestion with
thanks, but don’t you trv it unless you want to give

32) WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

the gun the “lazy measles” caught from you. The
barrels are of the finest steel; after being used they
must be cared for, and any man who is too shiftless or
indolent to clean his gun and properly care for it,
doesn’t deserve to have a fine one. No matter how
tired I come in from a hunt, my guns are thoroughly
cleaned that night; the result is that my two guns to-
day are as bright inside as the day I received them.
There is a secret in gun cleaning, simple, but never-
failing, always at hand, and with it properly used no
man’s gun will disgrace him in its condition. That
secret is watchfulness and ‘ elbow grease.” I have tried
almost every known gun lubricator, and if the gun is
properly cleaned most of these oils are excellent. In
cleaning a gun use no water. Use a little kerosene or
benzine on a rag. When it is necessary to remove
powder that is baked, then use a single wire brush, a
little kerosene on it, and plenty of elbow grease, until
every particle of leading is removed. Wipe inside of
barrels dry, oil well with vaseline, refined lard oil, pure
sperm oil, or mercurial ointment, and tis done. I prefer
vaseline, and use it exclusively. My guns, put away
months ago, are as free from rust or corrosive matter as
the day they were oiled.

Binocular shooting is the style indulged in at the
present time by some of the most expert shots in
America. That it is a successful manner of aiming,
none can deny. The advocates of this way of shooting
have certainly proven that what they claim for it is
true,

that there is no more necessity for closing one
eye in shooting with the shot-gun than there is in
archery, base-ball, billiards or any other sport where it
requires skill and judgment. Among the leading shots

THE SHOT-GUN, AND HOW TO USE IT 394

of the United States who shoot binocularly (both eyes
open) are Dr. Carver, Charles W. Budd and James R.
Stice. There are many others who do it, but these
gentlemen have proved themselves among the best in
the land. It is a matter so easy of demonstration that
any one can readily be satisfied whether or not that
style of shooting is best for him. To try it, take your
gun, point it at some immovable object, draw a steady
and true aim, as you usually do with left eye shut;
then without moving the gun open your eye and look
at the sight. What do yousee? That your aim with
your eyes open is just the same as with one eye shut.
Now try some other object. Bring your gun up delil-
erately, draw on the object selected, keeping both eyes
open; then shut your left eye, all the time holding the
gun still. What is the result? You find your aim
just as true with both eyes open as with one, although
you may have been shooting for years with one eye
shut. But then did you notice the uncertain feeling
you had as to whether or not your aim was true with
both eyes open? You must have felt it, and you
would wink and blink, first with left eye shut, then try
both eyes open; still, you could not divest yourself of
the feeling that your binocular sight was as true as the
other manner of sighting. Then which is the better
way? Neither: both are all that could be expected,
and the kind used by any experienced shot is the way
he will do best. The one who shoots with both eyes
open thinks his the best method, because he has a
double range of vision; while the advocates of the
other side claim they can see enough with one eye.
‘On ducks I can see no appreciable difference, and I

shoot one way as well as the other.
21

322 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

And now we come to the most important thing to be
learned in wild fowl shooting—the science of holding.
There has been a vast amount of discussion during the
past ten years on the subject, and the advocates of
holding on and ahead still live, breathe, and are multi-
plying over the earth.

Whether or not it is best to hold six inches or as
many feet ahead of cross-flying objects from the trap,
will not be entered into here, our object being to learn
all we can as to the best manner of shooting wild fowl.

There are, we might say, two different methods of
aiming. First, as a snap-shot; second, as a deliberate
shot. I give the definition of both in the language of
Mr. T. S. Van Dyke, one of the best posted writers in
the world.

He defines a Snap Shot to be, “when the gun is
jerked to the shoulder the instant the game is seen, the
eye catches a dim glimmering glimpse of the gun in
the right position, and the shooter fires simultaneously
with such glimpse, or else shifts the gun quickly into
the right position, if it is pointed wrong, then catches
another dim glimpse of its being right, and fires simul-
taneously.

“A Deliberate Shot: First, the cool, deliberate aim,
which catches a full, clear view of the bird and _ bar-
rels, and sees plainly that the barrels lie in the right
(lirection, either on the game or at the proper distance
ahead of it, but does not delay pulling the trigger an
instant after the eye does see the gun is right. This is
the aim of the successful duck-shooter, of the cool shot
on prairie-chicken, and the great majority of shots gen-
erally on game in the open, where no special haste
is necessary.”

THE SHOT-GUN, AND HOW TO USE IT 323

I do not believe any man who systematically shoots,
one might truthfully say, instinctively, as a snap-shot,
can ever make a thoroughly successful duck shooter.
To be sure, there are places he will —jumping them
from creeks, from rice, from willows. or shooting them
over decoys ; but when it comes to taking them as we
find them, on cold blustering days, the wind howling
and b.owing the shot out of its course, where time, dis-
tance, speed and all the combinations are against him,
I don’t believe he can overcome such obstacles. No
man can become proficient in duck-shooting unless he
isa good judge of distance, comprehends the velocity
the bird is flying, how high it is, the allowance that
should be made for the wind and for the falling shot.
The laws of gravitation must be considered and practi-
cal experiments show that shot drops 8.05 inches at 40,
and 19.85 inches at 60 yards. Taking all these things
into consideration, how a snap-shot can overcome them
all, and the hunter bring his gun up, just in the right
spot, to kill ducks regularly at 40 and 50 yards, is
beyond my comprehension. Some of the prettiest and
best shots I ever saw at the trap and in the field were
snap-shots, but I have not as yet met them on a duck
pass, when the wind was blowing a gale, and single
ducks were flying 40 to 60 yards high, and fully 100
miles an hour.

The beginner should study distance, not only on the
marsh at ducks, but at home in his daily walks, so that
at from 30 to 60 and even 75 yards he can estimate
space, to tell where two and four feet are from a given
object, that he may know how to judge the flying ducks.
Study their flight, that he may learn how to hold on
them, always remembering they are farther than they

324 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

seem, and are moving fast. That it takes time to decide
to shoot, to press the trigger, to ignite the powder, for
the shot to reach the bird, the time is infinitesimal, and
yet the bird moves swiftly all the while. Then hold
well ahead, don’t be afraid of getting too far, for your
estimate of distance will almost invariably be less than
it should be, and when you think you are holding four
feet ahead of the bird, you will not be over two. On
a duck you estimate at 40 yards, going at a moderate
gate, say a mallard; let it come a little to your side
and over, just as it gets near you coolly bring up your
gun, draw it in behind, gauge the swinging of the gun
by the speed of the bird; cover the bird, then advance
ahead just as the bird is passing you; keep the gun
moving, and when you think you are from two to three
feet ahead, steadily pull the trigger, and you have
centered the bird. Don’t check the moving of the gun
until you hear the report.

In other chapters of this book, full directions have
been given how to aim at ducks in their different
flights ; but let the reader bear in mind that the great-
est fault of every beginner and inexperienced duck-shot
is to shoot behind. So, try to overcome this universal
fault, and on cross or quartering ducks shoot from one
to ten feet ahead, according to their distance from you,
and the speed with which they are flying.

When ducks jump up and fly from you, they are con-
stantly rising; your shot obeying the laws of gravita-
tion will drop. These things must be taken into con-
sideration, and you should aim well over the bird, from
© to 20 inches.

Never fear your gun bursting by an excessive charge.
Any good gun will safely stand the strain of three times

THE SHOT-GUN, AND HOW TO USE IT. 325

ant

the load you will habitually shoot. Beware of getting
foreign substances in the barrels, such as mud, snow
and anything that will completely or partially clog
them ; they are the causes of many an “ unaccountable ”
bursting of the barrels.

Practice, patience and perseverance are the lanes
that lead to the roads of success in becoming an expert
shot.

SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING. 327

CHAPTER XXXIV.
SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING.

In the selection of the size of shot for any given
kind of game, the average hunter is very peculiar in his
ideas ; and this peculiarity is especially noticeable if
one will pass a few hours in some village gun store,
where hunters from that immediate vicinity congregate,
and buy their ammunition. It seems strange, neverthe-
less ’tis true, that a beginner almost without exception
starts out on his voyage of life (in a shooting sense)
and uses too great a quantity, and too large size of shot.
Notice the farmer boy, he who delights to stand on pin-
oak ridges and bang away for hours without bagging a
bird. When he buys hisshot he abstractedly attacks the
shot rack, runs his hands into the different compart-
ments, allows the shot to ooze between his fingers, and
in reply to the oft-repeated question, ‘“ What size will
you have?” casts on his juvenile companion a compre-
hensive look and replies, “Guess we will take 1’s as
ducks are a little wild.” He takes “ 1’s,” and the gun-
smith’s kindly suggestion to try 4’s is entirely thrown
away,—passed by without notice; or, if noticed, un-
heeded. The boy is not the only one afflicted with
these strange notions, for the man hunter, the terror of
the swamps,—he who through the laws of descent has
become the absolute and unqualified owner of a muzzle
loader,—he too uses coarse shot, 1’s and 2’s for ducks ;

828 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

and should they fly extra high, he has no hesitancy in
giving them a trial with BB’s. Talk to him about d’s
and 6’s for ducks!) Why, bless you, were we to do that
his flaxen hair would stand on end, and his plebeian
face emit sparks of disgust. Don’t try to convert him:
might as well try to convert an old toper to temper-
ance, or preach morality to an acknowledged libertine.
In either case, you will be casting pearls before swine.
But some time, when you are loading your boat with
ducks that you are knocking from all directions with
6’s, T's or 8's, watch this same ignoramus. You may
not see him personally, but note the ducks where you
know he is. They come steadily along, 100 or 125
yards high, instinct and experience having taught
them they are beyond the scope of danger. Suddenly
you see a flock tower quickly, then hear the boom of
his gun. That’s all, no damage done. He is having a
heap of fun. We know he won’t kill one during the
day at that height. What is his excuse for not killing
them? Poor powder, dirty gun, too small shot,—and
excuses without end. But don’t, my dear friend, inti-
mate that it is the fault of the gun, unless you are
willing to be talked to death, and buried right there,
beneath an avalanche of encomiums and reminiscences
of what this same gun accomplished in the hands of his
grandfather. Then when some stray shot tips a bird, and
the bird sails away for hundreds of yards, he will yell
like a maniac to his partner to “ Watch him! Watch
him! Thithim, [hit him !” A few years ago I witnessed
an entertainment of this kind, and I was the entire
audience,—and I trust the sole survivor. During the
day, two of them bagged one duck, while I killed over
40 mallards.

SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING. 329

Large sized shot are but little used among experi-
enced shots at the present day, and it is seldom indeed
that any larger than 4’s are used for ducks. For a
great many years this was my favorite size; then I
drifted into using 5’s, but becoming so much in love
with decoys, I allowed the current of experience to
carry me still farther toward the haven of success, and
there | am anchored, and have pinned my faith to No.
6. The reader must bear in mind, that the great im-
provement in the shooting powers of guns of the
present day allows us to decrease the quantity of shot,
thereby increasing the penetration, without sacrificing
the pattern. It is therefore unnecessary to load with
1 1-2 and 1 1-4 oz. shot as we did in muzzle-loading
days; and we find we obtain better results with 1 oz.
and 1 1-8 in our choke bore guns. While the shooter
may at times make extraordinary long shots with 3’s
and 4’s, still, he wing tips so many that the delights of
the hunt are in a measure lost at sight of the birds
escaping crippled, only to perish in a lingering death.
This will not happen so often with 6’s and with them
one can kill at any reasonable distance ; while shooting
over decoys they are all that could be desired. At such
a time close or high shots are equally within reach.

Shot as manufactured at the present time is both soft
and hard, or, as it is called, ‘soft’ and “chilled.”

For a number of years the impression was sown
broadeast that chilled shot was injurious to gun barrels.
Ever since its introduction I have shot it constantly
both in the field and at the trap, using sizes from 10's
to No. 2’s and find nothing injurious about it. It is far
preferable to soft; being hard, it retains its rotundity
better, and as a matter of course, penetrates farther

330 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

than soft. It is a trifle lighter than soft shot, but this
disadvantage is more than offset by the benefits obtained
in using it.

The reader will find below a table of sizes used
generally throughout the United States :

= ST. LOUIS CHICAGO
TATHAM & BROS., N.Y. |\saor TOWER Co.|| SHOT TOWER CO.
Diam. Pellets Pellets Diam. Pellets
in Size. to Size. to in Size. to
Inches. Ounce. Ounce. || Inches. Ounce.
#3, | FF 24 || OOO 33 23, | OOOO 22
eee | AS 27 OO 39 2% | OOO 27
2 | TT 31 O 46 ar OO 33
oe 36 || BBB 51 || 33,| O 38
i | BBB 42 BB 60 || 33, | BBB 46
i; | BB 50 B 71 18, | BB 58
He B 59 | 1 90 Loo B 62
100 1 ul 2 100 2S 1 15
ons 2 86 3 118 || 3 2 92
Ee 3 106 4 159 See 3 118
3, 4 182 || 5 237 || 23, 4 146
Bi 5 168 6 299 || i 5 172
le 6 218 7 885 || ab 6 216
ae 7 291 8 509 || 312, 7 323
ee 8 399 9 700) a. aes 8 434
Br an 6 568 10 1103 ibo 9 596
135 | 10 $48 Ra alee
Parirtaid 1346 eam 1414

As the beginner will oftentimes find birds other
than those he starts out to hunt, it will perhaps aid
him on his pleasant migrations, if he knows what sizes
are best for the different species of birds he will so
often find throughout the Middle and Western States.

NoriGeeses 3 se erates Nos. 1, 2, 3o0r4.
SWallids ante stoiaae trees cents ‘ 1, 2, or 3

5, 6, 7 or 8 (the 8’s over de-

coys in timber or rice.)

SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING. 331

HOneRed Neads) o.. 2s <5 oe. INosiun Gy c-
WanVaSm DACs tse coe cai : a 6.
TEVAtD. Saeed eee “« 67
Rin=tallsey vecde dees = eas aoe : . 6, 4,
By PAWHOO CONG, \s ets ks cae soc gh: § 6, 7.
Beall So iach osc eitrateas 5 8, 6
peeeleTaltie CHICK Mer i.1.5) cree ee ie 8, 1, 6, as season advances.
SoeeILUTe ds oTOUSe 1.15. e ass Oh Uh Sk
SHO: Socecce asop do sMneoen 10, 9, 8.

The sizes in numbers underlined are best to use. You
will find your gun, like many human beings, eccentric,
and you must get acquainted with it thoroughly and
find out its peculiarities. Some guns will throw a cer-
tain size with great closeness; then another size will
scatter over a vast space. You should target it at 40
yards, with the different sizes you think of using, and
select the size that makes the most uniform target,
with sufficient closeness to kill regularly at distance
tested. Your gun may throw 5’s better than 6’s or T’s.
If so, the reason is unexplainable, yet it will always
remain true in fact, and you must cater to it by shoot-
ing that size.

PowpEer .—The grade of powder used throughout
the Western States is noted more for the price it can
be bought for than for the particular brand used. A
certain brand will be used in a given locality,—some
one acknowledged to be an excellent shot will use it
with splendid results, his friends use the same, and al-
though not perfectly successful themselves, still, basing
their conclusions on results attained by their friend,

382 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

who has proven the great strength and uniformity of
the brand, the verdict is universal in that locality that
this certain brand of powder is the best in use. Con-
sequeutly, they all use it. And no matter what in-
ducements are held out, it is hard to wean these. people
from the brand they have used so long. The price of
powder has been gradually lowered until it seems that
anyone who feels he can afford to hunt ought to be
satisfied with the price he can now buy at. In this
article I am not going to advocate the use of one brand
to the exclusion of all others, for Ido not recognize
that any one powder company manufactures a brand
that is superior in all respects to that made by any and
all others. There are some redeeming qualities in
every brand in existence. I have repeatedly tried dif-
ferent makes, until I believe my experiments and ex-
periences have included every American brand. The
American people, in fact, the inhabitants the world
over, are a little gullible,—that is, they have a craving
desire and constant anticipation for a change. This
being the case, they hail with delight the advent of
anything new, afraid something may, mushroom-like,
spring into sudden popularity and they not be instru-
mental in introducing it to a certain extent. In this
way they discard old and tried powder, for the newest
out,—the most popular craze. I have always found
black powder a very poor kind to experiment on, and
that which was clean, strong and reliable in years gone
by, I find does not lose its prestige when brought in
contact with and tried against its younger rivals. In
buying powder then, the experienced shot knows what
he wants, and will use no other. The beginner should
first ascertain what he is to use, and having once

ca

SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING. 333

started to use it, refrain fromchanging. For, although
he may not believe it, there is such a great difference
in brands, that when he has started to use, and does
use a given brand for any length of time, he will see a
difference in his shooting, and the change usually
proves detrimental to good scores. The powder should
be strong, clean and moist, leaving in the barrels, even
if fired throughout the entire day, asoft residue, which
is easily wiped out. Butlet the reader bear in mind
that the atmosphere has the greatest influence on the
powder on hot, dry days. The powder will cake in the
barrels forming a crust that disgusts every hunter. On
the contrary, on cool, moist days, the effect is seen just
the contrary. As water is always in close proximity
to the shooter while duck shooting it is a very simple
matter to have clean barrels, which can be done by
dipping the barrels into the water. Should the be-
ginner notice red streaks or flaky substances in the
muzzle of the gun, after it has been fired, pay no atten-
tion to it, it amounts to nothing, and is no indication
of lack of strength or of impurity in its manufacture.
The sized grains of powder used in wild fowl shoot-
ing is generally FG. This is pretty coarse. FFG
being finer, and FFFG still finer. The coarser the
powder the slower it is and greater the penetration.
Should one constantly shoot FG at ducks, then use the
finer grades, he would speedily detect the difference,—
as the finer would give greater recoil, and being quicker,
less time allowance would be necessary. J am _ partial
to FG, and use that size at ducks and at the trap; at
the same time, I have seen very fine and extra coarse
powder used with equally good effect. This being the
case, we are led to the conclusion, that no particular

384 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

size is needed, but that one should not change sizes
after becoming accustomed to one in particular.

Within the past few years, great prominence has
been gained in the shooting world by the use of ‘wood-
powder. There are two kinds now being extensively
used,—the ‘Schultze gun-powder,” made in England,
and the “ American wood-powder,” manufactured in
this country. Both of these powders are expensive,
and possibly out of reach of the average hunter so far
as price is concerned. Both these grades have their
champions. The claims put forth by both, are, one
might say, identical. They claim superiority over black
powder on the ground, “it is cleaner, stronger, gives a
greater penetration, less recoil, and but a trifling
amount of smoke.”

SHELLS.—I am not an advocate of brass ones, and
think they should only be used when the hunter is too
poor to use paper shells. In my experience, there is
not a single virtue they possess that cannot be found
in paper shells. To say they outshoot paper ones is
easily said, but a faithful trial of them under all cir-
cumstances has failed to convince me of it. If itisa
question of economy, all right, use them ; but, if you ex-
pect to be benefited by their use you will be disappoint-
ed. For years I used them at the trap, and after ducks,
and the more I saw of them, the more disgusted I be-
came. The shot was constantly shaking out, the wads
becoming loose, until at times, I would have three to a
dozen charges of shot shaken out and loose in my
pocket. Then again, the jar of the first barrel would
loosen the wad in the other, the shot would patter in
the water or on the leaves, a duck would fly off, while

SHOT. POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING. 335

I was only prepared to fire powder and wad at it.
There is such an infinite variety of shells made, and
so reasonable in price, that it does seem that any one
can find some kind of paper shells within his means.
A good quality will stand re-loading anywhere from
three to eight times, and as they can be crimped each
time, they answer in place of brass shells for economy.
In brass shells, wads should be used two sizes larger
than the shell—that is, in No. 10 shells, No. 8 wads.
Not to be behind the times, and to keep pace with the
constant improvements being made, shell manufactur-
ers are all the while trying to improve their make.
The result is conical and round bases. The conical base
performs a double function,—it increases the penetra-
tion, and the extra thickness, the strength of the shell.
But any shell made by a reputable maker is safe enough.
Tam an ardent lover of water-proof shells for wild
fowl shooting, and would not use any other as a gift.
This reason is not a groundless one, but formed after a
miserable day spent with ordinary shells in a drizzling
rain,—shells sticking so that after each discharge of the
gun the empty shell would have to be driven from the
barrel with a wiping stick. Since that day, I have
used nothing but water-proof shells, and now when I
am out, and the elements punish me with rain or snow,
the least of my troubles is the fear of shells sticking in
my gun.

Waps.—I never saw a thorough hunter unless he
has his own notions about wadding. There is but one
secret in wadding, that is, plenty of wads on the powder.
tight-fitting and well lubricated. Almost any gun will

shoot better with wads on the powder one size larger
than the bore. There may be occasional exceptions,

but they are rare.

336 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

LoApING.—This is one of the most important
things about using the shot-gun with success, and no
matter how good a shot a man may be, if he is shoot-
ing shells poorly and improperly loaded the effect is
immediately noticeable. Too much pains can scarcely
be taken in loading shells. There is a load designed
to bring out the greatest shooting powers of every gun.
What that load is, can only be ascertained by practical
experience ; and when a man buys a new gun heshould
experiment until he has learned the load that gives the
desired effect. The old adage, ‘ more haste, less speed,”
is illustrated in loading shells. Perhaps the construe-
tion is not literal, and yet the gist is true, for the more
haste in loading shells, the less good results are ob-
tained. Let a hunter who knows he is an expert
shot use shells either on wild fowl or at the trap that
he doubts their effectiveness, and he cannot do himself
justice, because, he does not feel absolutely sure of
scoring the simplest shots. Then let him miss a few
shots that he feels he should have made, and the’ day is
spoiled for him; he either quits in disgust, or with
grating teeth bangs away all day long, knowing he is
bucking against an adverse fate. For a number of
years I would not use any loaded shells other than those
loaded by myself. I would not be so egotistical as to
think others could not load them as well, and yet, when
I loaded them myself, J had that confidence in the effi-
cacy of the load, that when I missed a shot that ought
to have been a hit, the shells were never blamed.
There is a sense of satisfaction in this, that every ex-
perienced hunter knows and has felt. How often it
happens that hunting in a boat with a companion, one
who has proved himself an excellent shot, through

SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING.

337
courtesy we offer him a few of our shells to try. He
declines them on the ground “has plenty of his own.”
We rather insist, and not to be impolite he accepts
them. At the same time, he only uses enough, that he
may not offend us. Why? Simply because he has
more faith in his own shells than in any other.

Does the reader intend loading his own shells ?. Tak-
ing it for granted he does, let us aid him all we can,
that it may be properly done. First, in loading, say one
shell at a time, the best loader in my opinion is the Bar-
clay. This is made of metal, with flanges inside that
guide the wads, and keep them from tearing down the
edges of the shells. The receptacle for the shell to
set in is of wood. The base of the shell setting into a
cavity to hold it securely ; where the cap comes there
isa hole drilled sufficiently large that by no possible
means can the edges of the cap touch the hard wood.
This is a slow process, but accurate. The better

“way is to buy at some gun store a loading block
that will load fifty shells at one time. Granting this
to be done, let us together load fifty shells for duck-
shooting. Placing the shel! case on a solid foundation,
perfectly level, we put the 10 ga. shells in. Our
powder is in a dish or box large at the top so we can
dip in handily. 4 1-2 dms. are put in each shell
through a funnel ; then we tap the box lightly with a
wooden mallet, settling the powder and making all
charges level. Next, we put in a 10 ga. ecard wad.
The reason for doing this is that the wad is dry, con-
taining no oil, besides, it is stiff, and holds the powder
compactly. Now, the next wadding must be large,
thick, and supplied with oil sufficient to slightly lu-
bricate the barrels. There is a great diversity of opin-
‘op as to what kind of wads to use at this point in

oY)

~~

FaYa to) WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

loading. I have tried every wad in existence, and
really can detect no difference: the only thing to be
observed is, they must be tight-fitting lubricators, and
what they lack in thickness should be made up in num-
bers. Don’t letus use felt wads in this fifty, but com-
mon pink-edge. I suggest this to make simplicity im
loading, although Iam partial to felt wads, and use
them entirely over powder. As we are going to use
1 1-8 oz. shot, our wadding must be sufficiently thick
to just allow the shell to crimp nicely,—so we will put
2 pink-edge wads over the powder on top of the card
we already have in. Here we will use No. 9 wads, be-
cause we want to confine the load, and see there is no
possibility of gas escaping, besides, the more we confine
the powder the more force we obtain. Now, on this
we wil’ put another card wad,—we could get along
without it, but it helps fill up the shell and keep the
thick wads firmly together. You noticed I put in each
wad separately, and pressed them down with the hand
loader or ramrod. Now we want the pressure even,
and we will give each shell two or three light taps with
our mallet, just enough to make it compact, but not
to break the grain. Then the shot goes in with card
wad on top: We should use a card wad because the
ight, and a thin wad,
just so it will hold the load firmly is better than a thick
one. The shells are now ready for the crimper. We
will use the old style,one that turns the edges in
smoothly and roundly, being careful with each shell

resistance on the shot should be |

that the edges are crimped so they turn down and rest
solidly against the wad. Too much pains can not be
taken in crimping shells, especially for wild fowl shoot-
ing, for they receive at times rough usage, and must

SHOT, POWDER, SHELLS, WADS AND LOADING. 339

not shake loose. No matter how well your shells may
be loaded otherwise, if they are negligently crimped
they will have lost their force and effect. I have been
complete in this explanation of how to load, because it
is the key that unlocks one of the doors of success in
shooting.

So well recognized is the fact that uniformity of
loading and its being properly done is essential to suc-
cess, that machine-loaded shells are fast taking preced-
ence over all others. I have used them for the past
two years. No man can by hand load and obtain the
same uniformity that these shells possess. While these
same shells may not please us more than those of our
own loading, yet we must admit they are equally as good,
and when one has a family of inquisitive youngsters,
his Christian duty demands his buying loaded ammuni-
tion, rather than endanger his little ones with powder
unconfined around the house.

Schultze powder is intended to be loaded bulk for
bulk, same as black powder, and the directions for
loading it are, to “put the wads upon the powder
firmly with the hand, and should not be rammed ! ”

American wood-powder requires great particularity
in loading. The secret of success with it is, to have
the powder thoroughly confined, requiring thick wad-
ding and very great pressure. After being properly
loaded, if one cuts open a loaded shell he finds the
powder pressed together into a compact mass, that can
almost be cut with a knife. The pressure put on this
powder in loading runs from 75 to 100 pounds ; on
black powder about 40 pounds.

- i
Loa iy i F
ry i Pet (ine “ude ut I itl a” re

7 a

“2 mar y aie . ey ; MN ee
at} A Tih te, a ee Me a ee ate i? A a te Wien
a , 4 f ra fic fi :
sd EL ae a ol SEG, tg on y (sae
r iy ‘ .
i i “ i
‘ ae
A i
he ie RA NTs in
‘ 4} if, :
i ree |
i R
Ak “ Y
+ >
Pi 4 p
Sa
‘
ite
| bbe gpa ca 1 ama
Di ea , fis he 24 ne . Ni ; tf Hoes ~
‘ . f nck duno , P|
sa {
agree Laan i
i ar
i 443 ; Oe Sa

OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS:AND DUCK-CALLS. 344

CHAPTER XXXIV.
OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS AND DUCK-CALLS.

Now that the beginner has waded through the
labyrinth of guns, and the most approved manner of
using them to advantage, let us wander still farther
up the scale of wild-fowl shooting, and clothe him in
garments suitable for hisavocation. His clothes must be
devoid of conspicuity, but gotten for the express purpose
of answering what they are intended for. A duck hunt-
er dressed for the swamps is not inan artistic sense, a
“thing of beauty ’’; on the contrary, he is not only de-
void of personal charms, but there is a look of inferiority
about him that his friends notice, and he is apt to appre-
ciate. While this is true, he should shake off all feelings
of pride, and be dressed properly for his destined place ,
that in the swamp and in the timber, style and fit are of
no consequence ; and that the sun will shine as warmly,
the birds sing as merrily, the winds blow as gently, the
rice stalks nod as cordially to him in his old, faded, ill-
fitting suit as if he were dressed in the neatest clothies.
Besides, he will be a great deal more comfortable, and
having his war armor on, will occasionally slip and take
a header in the mud with the utmost complacency.
What kind of material his clothes are made of, depends
on his own taste and the depth of his pocket-book. It

342 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

isn’t necessary that he should buy a suit, the only re-
quisite being, that it should be neutral in color and con-
form to his surroundings. Very dark or very light
color should not be used; any strong contrast of shade
is noticeable, and of consequence to be avoided. Wild
fowl are much more apt to be alarmed at dark objects
than light, and a black hat, sitting as it were on the
top of the rice stalks, in some faded swamp, is frequent-
ly seen encasing the skull of one who ought to know
better. It is difficult to imagine anything more con-
spicuous than a black hatin sucha place. Let a hunter
wear one, no matter how he is dressed otherwise, and
he is plainly seen for a mile or more down the marsh ;
then let him move around, and the swinging of his
head, the appearing and disappearing of that swarthy
* kopf ” is as complete an alarm to some incoming
drake, asifa brass band were secreted there, and twelve
Teutons should suddenly arise, point their horns at the
drake, and toot, “See the conquering hero comes.”
Then don’t wear a black hat. An old light gray suit of
clothes, a slouch hat of faded gray, is about the thing.
Have your coat pockets immense, that you may carry
large quantities of shells and get at them handily.
Canvas suits can be had from any gun store, and are the
most serviceable ; still, I prefer corduroy of drab grass
color. This answers equally well, whether in marsh
or timber. Always bear in mind to dress for warmth,
for the season for duck shooting is usually one of in-
clement weather, and at times the thickest and warmest
suits are insufficient to properly protect the wearer.
Should the hunter get too warm, it is a very simple
thing to discard one’s coat, and place it in the boat, to
be put on again as the day grows colder.

OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS AND DUCK-CALLS. 242

Oot

It is optional whether one wears a hat or cap, some
preferring one, some the other. The advantage of a
aat is that it protects the wearer better. The coat
vught to be lined with heavy flannel, or, better still,
with Mackinaw. It should be loose, fitting the wearer
vomfortably, and allowing him to put on extra clothing
beneath it when desired. The sleeves ought to be easy
at the arm pits, soas to allow perfect freedom of move-
ment in shooting and rowing. I like the vest of
corduroy, lined warmly, buttoning tight to the chin,
and made with sleeves, so that in a boat, on cold days
I can keep comfortable and use my arms without the
slightest restraint. Have the vest made with large
pockets, so if you want to hurriedly chase a cripple, or
wander a slight distance from the boat, you will have
shells always at hand. |

The pants should be loose-fitting, lined with flannel,
and buttoned on the outsides from the bottom to the
knee; this makes them fold nicely in the boot-leg.
Boots should always be one size larger than you ordi-
narily wear; then you can put on two pair of heavy
woolen socks. Always carry an extra pair of socks,
for a duck-shooter is full of ambition, and is liable to
lack discretion at times, and get over his boot-tops.
Wear a flannel shirt with a generous collar. Always
have on heavy, closely-knit wristlets.

Your shell-box, if habitually hunting ina boat, ought
to be one of your own making. It should be ample to
carry three hundred shells, with apartments for those
of different sizes. 1 take it for granted that you take
sufficient along for the trip, and therefore speak of this
box as only holding loaded shells. In it always have
oil, cleaning-tools and wiping-stick; fix a place in it

344 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

for a hatchet, which should be inseparable with it, and
whose edge should always be sharp. You will appreci-
ate it every time you build a blind of willows, for with
it the most perfect brush blind is the work of a few
moments. My shell-box is made of wood, painted lead
color, water-proofed, has leather handle on edge, is
16 1-2 inches long, 10 inches wide, and 6 1-2 inches
deep. I always use it for aseat. Don’t consider your-
self properly accoutred unless you have a rubber coat.
Get a good one, dead-grass color, tough. Depend on
it, it will be a good investment, for it will last for
years. The most pleasant morning may be only a
deceitful prelude that will be followed by a stormy
day.

You will find many recesses in your boat; any one
of them will make an excellent receptacle for a coffee-
pot,—not a great, ill-proportioned thing, but a little
two or four-quart pail, which will afford you more gen-
uine luxury than anything you ever carried with you.
Consider one of these part of your outfit, and always
have it with you in the boat.

Buixps.—-The bump of secretiveness of the duck-
shooter should be fully developed, and if extra large
the better, for the surest road to success is the aptness
that one shows to hide himself properly at any and all
places, and to do it without changing the appearance
of the place where he is hidden. He should be thor-
oughly secreted; still, in thus placing himself out of
sight, he must always have uppermost in mind the
thought of building his blind just sufficiently thick and
hich to afford him ample protection, without conspic-
uity. All beginners try to build a blind that will hide
them, never thinking for a moment that while they are

OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS AND DUCK-CALLS, 345

concealed, the vast size, the extreme height, the carc-
less construction of their blind prevents precisely what
they have sought to accomplish. And while it conceals
their form, attracts the ducks’ attention by its dissim-
ilarity to the scenery around it. The blind should not
be too high, and by all means ought not to loom up
plainly to view. The hunter must depend to a very
great extent on the color of his clothes, and his faculty
of keeping perfectly quiet and immovable.

Where ducks are found, nature has showered her
blessings abundantly, and flags, vice, grass, brush,
twigs, trees and cornstalks are generally found. The
hunter, then, will avoid the placing of artificial blinds,
made at home, and borrow from the marsh or other
places material that serves to complete or shelter the
edges of the water where he is shooting.

If in the marsh, he should watch the flight of birds,
mark the spot where they are dropping in with regu-
larity ; let experience tell him whether or not he has
found the place where he is confident of good shooting.
He must judge the direction of the wind, locate him-
self on the windward shore, if ducks are alighting, be-
cause they always light against the wind. After he
has arrived at this point, let him not judge hastily what
he is to do, lest having acted unwisely and without
forethought, he repent at leisure. At this time he sees
before him an opening, disclosing a little pond, sur-
rounded ‘by flags or grass, rice or willow twigs, while
dotting the surface here and there great brown mounds
of decayed stalks and compressed earth show to him a
muskrat village. The question with him is, what shall
he do for a blind? For the sake of illustration: We
find him without a boat. He must ascertain how near

D4 WILD FOWL SUOOTING.

he can get to the water, and with his knife cut close to
the water’s edge tall stalks of rice, twigs or willows,
placing them around him to make a shield from the view
of passing birds. Being without a boat he is laboring at
great disadvantage, and standing in the slimy mud,
which is soon chafed into the consistency of mortar, his
patience and endurance are both thoroughly tested.
Let us help the poor fellow out of his predicament,
and draw from out the rushes our boat: place him in
with us, and then secrete ourselves. We instantly see
the foundation or an essential part of it ; in this swamp
are muskrat houses and flags. We scoop the top off
one of the largest houses, scatter it over bow and sides,
completely covering the exposed sides of the boat.
Near us tall rice stalks are waving, as if asking us to
come in where they are; we accept the invitation, and
go in by acircuitous route. Why? Soas not to show
the opening from the direction where birds are ex-
pected to come from. After we have gotten in pretty
well, with our hunting knife we cut an armful of flags,
shove the boat into the place started for, bend rushes
over toward us, thus shielding the boat, or stick the oar
blades into the mud athwart the bow, and intertwine
rushes so as to make plenty of covering. Then, per-
haps, after having excellent sport here for hours, we
determine to change our base and go to some willow
flash. This we do, the boat is in the thick willows:
our handy hatchet is used with destructive effect, and
we peep through and notice daylight struggling through
an almost impenetrable blind. We must not have it
too high, for nothing must interfere with our aim,—
just sufficiently high that we can, in sitting comfortably
straight, look over the top, and when we fire have an

OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS AND DUCK-CALLS. 347

unobstructed view. Nothing more quickly disconcerts
a hunter than to have his barrels knock against twigs
when about to shoot. When your blind is built in tim-
ber, carefully avoid shooting through limbs and twigs ;
it seems impossible to shoot through them with effect.
A simple and excellent blind, easily constructed and
nlways handy and serviceable in marsh shooting, is made
by taking two large coffee sacks, sew the ends together,
then begin about one inch from the top, and with yel-
lowish brown braid, say about 1-2 inch wide, form loops
from one end of the sack to the other, about an inch
apart, the loops being 1-2 inch in space; then drop
down say a foot from these loops, and make duplicate
ones; these make sockets in which flags or grass can
be stuck. About three feet apart run through short
strong twine tied to the sack, leaving about four inches
of string. Cut sticks, or take them with you in your
boat, shove them into the mud, tie the sack to them,
insert flags so they extend about six inches over the
top, and you will have one of the most convenient
blinds ever made.

When cover is light they are of great value and a
perfect shield. I recall one day when far from shore,
sitting on a muskrat house, screened by one of these
blinds. I had most excellent shooting for hours.

While blinds are a necessity, let the beginners never
forget that it is motion that frightens ducks more than
anything. Always bear in mind ducks are high in the
air, are on the alert. Your blind, your clothes are ex-
actly like the swamp, but move, and the ducks will al-
most invariably see you, and, being alarmed, sheer off.
When they are at a distance arrange yourself. Keep
calm, be cool, don’t move until they come toa point

348 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

where you feel they will give you the best opportunity
to shoot.

Drcoys——The reader has noticed the partiality I have
shown in this book toward decoys. In doing so I have
no apology to offer, for it has been my constant aim
and desire to disclose to you the secrets of the art of
hunting wild fowl successfully, as constant practice,
unlimited opportunities, and over twenty years’ experi-
ence has demonstrated to me: and I can confidently
say there is no other one thing that goes so far toward
making an expert duck shooter, as a fuil knowledge
and the proper use of decoys. When a boy, like all
thoughtless urchins, my success in duck-shooting de-
pended on luck. Decoys at that time seemed like
harmless blocks of wood, created for the purpose of ex-
ercising my patience, when they became tangled to-
gether (which it seemed to me they always did). Then
to think of picking them out of the ice cold water.
Ugh! This thought alone was sufficient to drive cold
chills down my back, and I studiously avoided their
use. As later years added experience to my hunting
education, the follies and errors of my youth (in this
respect) were fully apparent, and I have tried to remedy
them;and now I never go duck-shooting without de-
coys, and every expert in wild fowl shooting will bear
me out when I say they are one of the absolute neces-
sities of a hunting outfit. Of course, at times, they are
in the way, and iiconvenient,—an acknowledged nuis-
ance ; but for all this trouble the fruits of our labor are
received when we see the decoys floating idly in the
still water, so quiet, so inactive, with mallards, pin-
tails, red-heads, and all the shoal water ducks quacking
out greetings to them, and with lightning swish drop-

OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS AND DUCK-CALLS. 349

ping right in among them. Then always have decoys
along with you, if you contemplate shooting over water.
Bear in mind this, that youcannot have too many, the
more the better, for the larger the flock the greater the
attraction to passing birds. Of course, there is a limit to
the number one can carry with convenience in his boat :
and let your means of conveyance be the guide in di-
recting you how many to take along. The best way to
carry them is in a large coffee sack, with puckered
string at the top. Have two,—in one from 12 to 18
mallards, in the other about 10 or 12 red-heads and 12
to 18 blue-bills. This will give a variety that will do
for all kinds of ducks. Naturally, they decoy better to
those of their own sort, but the kinds enumerated above
answer all purposes and do away with the impossibility
of having along decoys for each species one is apt to find.

Mallards are the ducks found in greatest number
throughout the Western and Middle States, and while
most other ducks will decoy to them, they will very
seldom decoy with reliability to other species. They
are peculiar in this respect, and lke to rest and feed
apart from others. To be sure, they will often be seen
with others, but if a careful investigation is made it
will be found that these have come where they are.
Yet this is not always the case, for being at times pos-
sessed with neighborly inclinations, they occasionally
visit their neighbors, the widgeon, pin-tail,—indeed, all
other kinds. Following are decoys that answer for
other than the birds they represent :

Mallards, for red-heads, pin-taiis, gray duck and
shovellers

Red-heads, for canvas-backs and blue-bills.

Blue-bills, for red-heads and canvas-backs.

300 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Thus the reader will notice that mallard decoys do
for nearly every kind, while a sprinkling of blue-bills
and red-heads make the kind required complete. The
way to set them out has been fully shown in preceding
articles.

lt is a very simple thing to make wooden -decoys,
and any one with moderate ingenuity can do so.
Should the beginner wish to make them rather than to
buy, let him select white pine or cedar. Take a piece of
2x6, and having a good decoy for a model, fashion it as
nearly as possible to the original. The head and neck
should be of one piece and fastened securely to the
body. Fast oil colors are to be used, so that they will
retain their colors. On the bottom drive in a staple
and ring to fasten the cord, and put a long lead weight
full length of bottom. This acts as ballast, and the
decoys always retain their upright position, even when
thrown into the water. If you buy decoys and they
do not have this ballast on, put it on yourself; it will
pay for the labor. I knew a friend to go blue-bill
shooting with decoys devoid of this ballast, and he had
to give up using the decoys because they kept tipping
over. They were the ordinary cheap wooden ones—
sold cheap. They were blue-bills and red-heads—
that is what he bought them for. The blue-bills
had several marks showing what they were in-
tended for. But the red-heads! Oh, my! they
would have as readily passed for mallards. I looked
them over, and to the best of my knowledge they were
wooden hybrids. They were such as I once saw in a
wholesale store. I saw two different lots; one could
buy from these two boxes whichever he desired, red-
heads or mallards. They looked like neither, but were

OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS AND DUCK-CALLS. 351

branded both. Now, don’t buy decoys simply because
they are cheap, mallards especially ; others don’t make
so much difference, for red-heads and blue-bills will at
times come to anything—chunks of wood, sticks or any
object that has the slightest similarity to themselves.
My decoys are the best I could buy—perfect in shape,
faultlessly painted, and artistic and real in every way.
They will last me a life-time, because they are cared
for. You hunt for recreation ; you do this even if ad-
verse winds have blown you into some harbor where
necessity demands that it be done for the support of
you and yours. Still, you find in it a pleasure, in spite of
your reverses. Jf this is your lot, my sportsman heart
wells out to you, for some of my truest friends are
market hunters, whom the fates have dealt unkindly
with. Then, trying as you do, to get the greatest pos-
sible pleasure out of it, my word for it, natural and life-
like decoys will aid you materially, not only in being
pleasant to the eye, but in being the means of swelling
your total shot during any day.

The skill and inventive powers of man are constantly
brought into action to discover devices to make more
successful the pursuit of wild fowl. In this way we
hear of rubber decoys, folding decoys, reversible de-
coys, decoy frames, profile decoys, ete., almost without
limit. Let the young hunter ponder well before he in-
vests in decoys, and feel that he is getting just what
he requires in localities where he knows he will hunt.

Tame ducks make splendid decoys, as they are con-
stantly on the move, thus attracting attention ; be-
sides, are at all times loudly quacking. Especially is
this the case when the birds are passing over. Their
movements in the water, their similarity to their wild

$52 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

cousins, their solicitous calling is too much, and they
are the means of bringing to death many and many an
old duck whose age of discretion has long since passed.

Of decoys for wild geese, with the exception of the
live birds, the only kind I have yet seen to my liking
are the * profile” described in this volume on ‘ Wild
Goose Shooting.”

Duck-CALus: The power of mimicry in man has full
scope for vent in wild-fowl shooting. ‘Some men are
natural mimics, others are sadly deficient in such
powers, and for the latter the artificial duck’s quack is
a blessing—that is, if it is properly used. But when
we take into consideration the great army of duck-
hunters and think for a moment how little they know
the art of calling, we are at a loss to know the reason
why. The majority of hunters. invest ina duck eall.
They gaze upon it with admiration, squint into its muzzle
of bell-shaped horn, lock cautiously around to see if
they are observed, then place it in their mouth, fill
their lungs with air, give a violent blow, and the air
resounds with a discordant “bla-a-a.”” Not to be dis-
couraged at the first attempt, they try again, and by
thrusting the extreme end against the palate a sound
is blown out in A Minor, which faintly resembles a
wild duck. A little practice soon obviates this, and
the aspirant soon learns to imitate a duck. Inmitate
how? As the bird calls in its different moods? No,
he doesn’t think of that, the very thing he ought to
think of. The result is, he seeks at times to call them
to his decoys, and tries this, when he cries to them in
tones which they utter only when in fright. The begin-
ner should be a student of nature and birds, and watch
them in their feeding grounds. Once in a while, some

OUTFITS, BLINDS, DECOYS AND DUCK-CALLS. 353

corpulent matron will forget herself and call out
“quack, quack, quack” in “ Won’t go home till morn-
ing” strains; but the majority are quiet, feeding along
with a “sip-sip-sip,” just as you have often seen tame
ducks do. Learn to imitate these; learn to imitate
the whistling pin-tail, the widgeon, the “meow”, the
purring sound of the red-heads, the tenor quack of
the shoveller, the soprano of the teal. Listen to the
mallard hen, as she calls her mate. Try to call like
her. See! through the forest trees he hears her ery
and goes to her. How your blood tingles, as his grat-
ing, vibrating call reaches you, so mellow, so tender as
it travels through the woods—* M-amph, M-amph.”
Practice this call, not on the wooden one, but with the
one nature provided you with.

The best artificial calls I have seen are those made
by Fred A. Allen. If one is apt he can readily learn
to blow them, but bear in mind, the secret of duck
calling is the right call in the right place, as the birds
call in their different flights and resorts.

My opinion of “goose calls,” basing a verdict on
those I have seen, may be found in the Chapter on
“Canada Goose Shooting.”

92
vars)

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 355

CHAPTER XXXVI.
DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS.

CANINE character is mostly the result of education.
While it may be in part inherited, yet, let the blue
blood become estranged from, or deprived of, refining
influences, and his life is barren of good actions. In-
stead of becoming what he might if properly raised, he
seeks the companionship of the lowest of his race, and
degenerates into a sheep-stealer, a scavenger of the
alley, one who sleeps by day, and whose nocturnal wan-
derings are conducive of no good. While excellent
traits of character may have been inherited by him, it
requires the most careful attention to develop them,
and to bring them out of their crude state; for the
natural disposition of the dog will assert itself, and
human kindness, ingenuity and force, are the only
means that will disclose what there is in him, and edu-
cate him properly. This being the case, the man must
be the teacher, and the dog becomes what is made
of him. What that may be, depends on the character,
temper and patience of the man. Dogs are like chil-
dren; in their young minds they receive early impres-
sions. If those impressions are for good, they are the
guide which directs their after life, and as months are
added to their young lives, and they receive from their
master kindness, patience and generous forgiveness of
their childish pranks, the mild overlooking of their

356 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

little puppyish tricks, they soon learn to know that mas-
ter as their friend ; they try to please him, to learn, per-
haps not because they care for the knowledge them-
selves, but their little heads soon are wise enough to
see that when they do as their master wishes, they
please him, his pleasure is shown them, in divers ways,
by fond petting, little delicacies to eat, and kind and
affectionate words. These attentions soon wean him
from his playmates,—he longs to please his master ;
perhaps he may feel sometimes his master is a little
too particular with him, or he is too severe, when he in-
sists on his learning his lessons when other dogs are
loafing in the streets; possibly, when his chum, the
neighbor’s dog, has treed a cat and barks loudly for him
to come and help keep her there, yet, he has learned to
love his master; kind words and loving caresses have
won his heart. He looks on the man as his companion,
his protector, his friend, and in his heart, although he
is but a dog, the seeds of kindness have been sown,
have sprouted, ripened and developed into everlasting
love and gratitude. In the selection of a dog for wild
fowl shooting the purchaser should take into considera-
tion the places and seasons of the year the dog is to be
used. This sport is full of hardships for the dog, and
it is but seldom that he can be used, except when the
water is of icy coldness, or the wind equally cold and
penetrating, when it comes in contact with his shiver-
ing frame. <A dog for this kind of sport should be one
peculiarly fitted for it. His coat should be thick,
oily, and liver or sedge color ; as so much of his life is
to be passed in the marsh, floundering in the mud,
struggling through the tangled rice, or in the swollen
stream, swimming against the rushing current, he

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 357

should be of compact build, and exceedingly strong and
courageous. To use a pointer during the cold season
is cruel, for nature did not intend him for this work:
his place is in the stubble-field in the summer’s sun.
To use a setter at such times, is to test his courage and
endurance. They will do the work, and will stand
hour after hour retrieving without flinching, and no
dog can do the work quicker or better.

But my idea of a duck dog is either a Chesapeake
retriever, or an Irish water-spaniel. They are made for
cold water, and take to it as naturally as a duck.
Either breed are excellent and natural retrievers. But
it requires education to make them perfect. Their
color is liver or runs from a light to a dark-brown. They
are unlike in looks, and the diversity of tastes in indi-
viduals ought to be satisfied here. The Chesapeake
issmooth in coat, at times a trifle wavy ; the hair thick,
close, but oily, similar to an otter. The Irish water-
spaniel is covered with kinky curls, a bushy top-knot
on his head, and rather a rat tail. Of the two I de-
cidedly prefer the Chesapeake. When one buys a duck
dog untrained, no matter what his pedigree is, he must
not expect too much of him. Buy one trained, or take
one in puppyhood and bring him up as he should be,
and he will be an ornament to his race. The peculiar
traits are merely inherited ; they must be developed and
controlled by the human mind, and unless you are a
monument of patience, don’t attempt to train one. In
the Western States, the dog used mostly for duck-shoot-
ing, is a cross between a spaniel and setter, the object
being to combine the love for water found in the span-
iel, and the speed and scenting powers of the setter.
When one of these dogs is trained, there is no dog on

358 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

earth that will do his work better. In using the word
“trained,’ I do not mean that when water is warm,
and the elements combined make it a pleasure for a dog
to retrieyve—that he is then to be relied on; but I
mean a dog who implicitly relies on the judgment of
his teacher, allows no doubts to enter his mind, but is
controlled entirely by the voice or hand of his master,
whether he breasts a torrent of floating debris, or breaks
ice to bring a bird, but goes and does his work because
he is commanded to. In the selection of a dog, great
stress should be laid on color, and the aim should be
to pick out one wholly devoid of conspicuous markings.
Black and white are the two colors that show up most
plainly in the wild rice or grass, and unless the cover-
ing is especially thick, dogs of such colors are bound to
be seen. As the color has nothing to do with the tract-
ableness of a dog, there is no good reason for selecting
one either with black or white markings, for these col-
ors will be noticed by passing ducks, and the hunter
should pick out one of dull, dead colors, trying as near-
ly as possible to get one the color of the faded swamp.

The best dog for all round shooting I ever saw was
one raised and owned by Mr. Chas. Tate, of Low Moor,
Iowa. In appearance, he was a spaniel, liver color,
cross breed, his father a setter, his mother a spaniel.
He was a stocky, square-built fellow, had unlimited en-
durance, while his speed, and the delicacy of his scent,
were unapproachable. What ‘* Colonel” did not know
about hunting, 1 have never discovered in any other
dog. His looks did not show it, for I knew men who
never saw him in the field, offer to wager he would not
point a bird. This conclusion they arrived at, wholly
from his appearance, for his looks certainly did belie

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 359

him. One time when I had him in Western Iowa, Mr. W.
H. Phelps, one of the finest shots in the State, saw him
and came near hurting himself laughing when he found
out I was going after quail with this dog. On this same
hunt W. B. Wilcox, since deceased, was my partner for
u day. In the party there were two blue-blood setters,
and as they were pets and beautiful animals they re-
ceived unremitting attention from their owners. Some-
times I thought Colonel was a little bit jealous, for any
advances these dogs made toward opening up a friend-
ship with him were instantly rejected with a sullen
growl. He lay on the floor of the baggage-car, rolled
up ina heap; his rough coat was homespun, compared
with theirs of silken texture, and he seemed to know
it. At times he would slowly rise to his feet, come to
me, put his cold nose in my hand, and look me straight
in the eyes, his great brown ones honestly seeking the
truth from me, as if asking whether I, too, was going
to desert him for these false gods. Honest old boy!
He ought to have known me better. My tender strok-
ing of his broad forehead, the affectionate patting of
his stout shoulders, the reassuring smile I gave him
seemed to soothe his troubled mind, and he lay down
again, apparently happy, casting on his canine com-
panions a look of contempt, and showing them his
gleaming teeth.

In the fields of Western Iowa there was Waterloo
that day, and Colonel was a Wellington. I never will
forget the expression on Wilcox’s face when reaching
a likely field, he tried to make Colonel “hie on.”
Before this, I had motioned Colonel to heel. He rec-
ognized me as his master, and obeyed no other com-
mand. Wilcox got excited, condemned me for bring-

360 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

ing a “cur” into the field, slandering the poor dog,
until I feared Wilcox would leave me disgusted.
Colonel had been walking behind us coolly and silently ;
the other dogs were chasing one another without
method, without system. I turned to Colonel and
casting on him one of the friendly smiles I always take
with me fora dog I like, motioned him to * hie on.”
He shot forward like a rocket, and through stubble,
brush and briar, over the hillsides, across the creek.
and through the stubble, he who was despised in the
car now led the van. And then, when the birds were
found, he stood as if carved of stone, until we were
near and ordered him on. Then when we shot the
first bird, how tenderly he brought it in. Poor crippled
bird, its broken wing hanging down so limp, and its
love of freedom still exerted in trying to escape from
those firm jaws; how it beat its well wing against his
black nose; then when Colonel neared us, with
the struggling bird in his mouth, he turned quickly
and pointed another quail in the grass, right at Wil-
cox’s feet. One hundred dollars was offeredand refused
for a “cur” that day, and the life-blood trickled faster
and warmer in two hearts, when Colonel brought me
the quail, his face beaming with satisfaction, while
I read his thoughts in his eyes, and I felt swre he
did mine. Well, well! Colonel, if we secretly re-
joiced that day we had reason to.

As a duck retriever he was perfection,—all the good
qualities of one he possessed. He was alive to every
interest of his master, would mark the different spots
where the birds fell, and his keen eyes were never late
in spying a flock, as they started to come in. He needed
no urging to do his work, and in sunshine or rain,

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 361

blinding snow or floating ice, he never questioned his
going, but went and returned at the will of his master.

In snipe shooting he would point the birds, or
at heel simply retrieve. His wish was simply the
desire of his master. He seemed to know the birds
always arose up-wind, and he would approach noise-
Jessly or with a loud racket, whichever way he thought
would afford the best shot to the hunter. I have time
and again seen him point snipe coming down-wind,
then make a wide circuit and come up-wind, with loud
splashing, to drive the bird toward the hunter.

He showed his greatest skill in prairie chicken shoot-
ing, and he was the only dog I ever saw that would
work successfully on them in a November and Decem-
ber corn-field. There isn’t a bird that flies that is
harder to approach than an old chicken that has sur-
vived the fall battles. His experience has made him a
veteran. He solicits no pension, for he feels perfectly
capable of taking care of himself. On these old
warriors Colonel has given his owner, Mr. Tate, and
myself many pleasant afternoons. In the corn-field the
dog would trot along through the standing corn, care-
ful not to step on reclining stalks, or make the slightest
noise; finally he would strike a trail, then the utmost
caution would be exercised. As the trail grew fresher,
he would creep silently along half crawling; then stop
and look around at us, as if invoking caution. When
he felt he had located the birds, he would slowly return
to us, then go back of us: we knew what to expect.
He had found where the birds were, and they had quit
running and were hiding. Then we would separate— Mr.
Tate and I. In a short time there would be a racket
in that field, as if made by a steer running wildly, —it

a62 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

was Colonel with the chickens between him and our-
selves, and he was running against the stalks. He knew
the birds would fly away from that noise, and so they
would, presenting to us quartering shots.

There was something truly wonderful about that dog.
It wasn’t instinct, it wasn’t inherited qualities, but it
seemed like human wisdom transferred to the brain of
an animal. I have never seen another like him, in his
knowledge of the habits and peculiarities of birds.
One time Mr. Tate and myself bagged 76 quails and
128 mallards in two and one half days with him.

* Bring up achild in the way he should go, and when
he is old he will not depart from it.” This apples equally
well to dogs, and one cannot commence their training
at too early an age. There can be no great love with-
out confidence and respect. See to it, then, that when
you start out to educate a puppy, that the first thing
you do is to gain its confidence. When in its puppy-
hood it fondly licks the hand that pets it, you see
that you are on the first step that will lead you into the
recesses of its heart. The road is open and clear to
you for the present ; the ruts and obstructions will show
themselves afterwards. Make a good deal of the puppy ;
let your actions toward it be only those coming spon-
taneously, ever showing that you are to be this animal's
friend. ‘ Kind words never die, they are cherished and
blessed.” So they will be with this puppy ; and when
onee you have won his heart, nothing but death will
separate you and it, nothing can take it from you.
During the first few months of its life one cannot ex-
pect to do much, for this living, breathing animal is but
a chunk of romping innocence. But now is the time
to win its affections. Romp with it, pet it. Choice bits

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. — 363

from your hands, garnished with kind words soon make
your pupil long for you, to run and meet you, to whine
sorrowtully when he hears your voice and cannot bound
to greet you. Ifyou do not love the dog, do not try
to train him, for you will either be unsuccessful or
cruel. ‘There can be no conception of the vast amount
of labor connected with it, this bringing up a dog, try-
ing to develop the unknown quantity of brain he pos-
sesses. Some dogs are morose, sullen, dull or deceitful.
Should yours be of this kind better disown it and try
again.

There are two things essential to your success in
breaking a puppy. They are patience and firmness.
Never attempt to train one without having a surplus of
both on hand. In the early stages of puppyhood your
little friend will test the first thoroughly, for he must
have it engrafted into his head that there are things he
must learn ; you will find him exceedingly forgetful.
This is especially so, because he thinks his object in the
world is to play, and the many good lessons you have
so often taught him, that you feel he should know and
does know, he seems to have forgotten. Then you are
disgusted to find him looking at you, his face a perfect
blank, as if this is the first time he ever heard of such
a thing. You speak to him kindly, he lays down on
his back ; his feet drawn up, and he looks at you. You
speak to him firmly, he merely draws his feet closer,
and sticks his tail between his legs, resting it on his
stomach for you to admire, then sticks out his tongue,
licks his chops, and looks at you with a sickly grin.
All this time you feel it is getting most dreadfully
warm : the perspiration starts. Uncork that bottle of
patience and take a good dose; now is the time you

364 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

need it. After the puppy once understands what you
want. never tell him todo it and allow it to go undone.
No matter what the circumstances are, insist that it be
done, and see that it is. If you don’t, you will find the
puppy will remember this laxity of yours, and expect
it, and you will give inagain. Do this afew times and
your influence is lost.

You should have the puppy so situated that you can
enforce obedience. Naturally he will want to run
away, if things don’t go to suit him. You must watch
out for this and train him in an enclosure, a room or a
small yard, where he is constantly within your power.
As a puppy is willing to work, like a boy if he thinks
it’s play his lessons should be of that nature. He likes
to play with any soft substance. This being the case,
begin his lessons with an old glove. Tap him on the
nose with it. Asa matter of self-protection he will
grab for it. Soon he will reach for it a little; then
drop it at his feet, saying “ Pick it up.” He will soon
learn to associate the words “ pick it up” with your
wishes. Always use the same words when teaching
him some particular thing. After he has gotten so he
will pick it up, tap him lightly with the glove, getting
him excited a little, then toss it from you ; not far at
first, just so you feel he will get it. Don’t let the
lessons be too long, for he will construe them into the
fact that it isn’t play after all, and will want to quit.
Don’t tire him, or expect too much at one time, for
while he may be slow at first, if you are patient and go
at it systematically you will be surprised how easily he
picks up things as he grows older. After the pup has
gotten to understand your orders of picking up, and
bringing the glove to you from short distances, throw it

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 265

farther ; throw it over the house orsome building , hide
it, he willsoon obey your every command. Enforce
obedience at all times. Do not correct him in anger, nor
whip him unnecessarily ; but when necessity demands it,
have no hesitancy in punishing him for faults or omissions
he has committed or omitted. In teaching the puppy
to lie down, the expression generally used is, “* Down,
charge.” The word, Down is better, because it con-
veys the command to the dog without unnecessary words.
The fewer words one uses the better. Teach the dog
to associate words with actions in this way. Tell him
to “ down,” at the same time pressing him down with
your hand. He soon learns that when he is told to
“down,” if he doesn’t mind, your hand will force him.
Connecting the command with the raising of your hand,
he soon learns to drop at sight of the uplifted hand, as
readily as at the word. Practice and discipline are
what makes him perfect in this respect. When you
are ready to teach him to retrieve from water, don’t
throw him in the first time you happen to have him
near it. Don’t throw him in at all, for you will frighten
him and delay his learning. But select some bright
day, some place where the water is shallow and warm,
and go down with him to itsedge. When the atmosphere
offers strong inducements for him to take a bath, throw
sticks on the verge of the stream, where he can wade ;
gradually extend the distance, and ina few days he
will bring from the water as well as from land.

When the dog retrieves, insist that the object brought
shall be delivered into your hand, don’t let him drop
it at your feet or any other place. Don’t let him jump
up on you, but teach him to come to you with the duck
in his mouth, to sit on his haunches and hold the bird

366 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

until you are ready to receive it. A perfect retriever
is a delight to the hunter, and an ill-trained one a curse.
After the dog has learned to bring the glove to your
satisfaction, tie some stiff feathers around it. It then
has the appearance of a bird, and smooths the way to
his retrieving ducks. As young dogs are of a wander-
ing disposition and like to stray from home, the nicest
way to break them of the habit is to contract with some
small boys that when they catch him from home, they
will coax him to them and thrash him soundly, at the
final whack telling him in fierce language to ‘ Go
home!” A few whippings of this kind inclines the
puppy to think that he will get punished everywhere
but home, and teaches him to avoid small boys. When
the dog has arrived at the age of ten or twelve months
he is like a boy in his teens,—he thinks he knows it
all, and you will find that you must have a day of set-
tlement with him; for some time, with sullen mien, he
will attempt to disobey you, and instead of complying
with your orders, will show his teeth as an indication
of the manner in which he is prepared to care for him-
self. Watch out for him, and don’t give him the
slightest advantage, but seize him by the collar and
whip him untilhe is thoroughly convinced that you are
the master, not he. I never hada dog that I didn’t go
through the same siege with, and the best trained re-
triever I ever saw, my Don, I had the hardest fight
with. He turned on me, a perfect fiend. We had it
rough and tumble, and when we were through he was
subdued, and until the day of his death he never re-
ceived another blow from me,—it wasn’t necessary.
His intelligence was human; my orders to him were
not commands, simply frank expressions of my wishes.

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 367

And to him I only had to say, “ Don, please do this,”
*“ Don’t make so much noise,” ** I wish you would go
down after the mail,” ‘“ Get your basket and go to the
meat-market,” “ Please open, or shut the door,” and the
many tricks I taught him. And when I made these
requests an almost human look would spring into his
face, and as quick as they could be these things were
done. How that dog loved me! I took him in his in-
fancy, his puppyhood. At that time he was but a little
roll of curly innocence. I was patient with him ; over-
looked his childish faults; taught him I was his friend;
from the hand of my wife and myself he received his
food,—the embryonic seeds of kindness which we sowed
early, budded in his heart and blossomed into a love
that only his death severed. Severed? Not with us,
simply with him; for in our hearts no other dog can
take his place. Others may come and go, but none
ean touch the tendrils of two responsive hearts as did
Don. It is twelve years since he died, but the passing
years do not lessen our love for him, but increases it:
over our hall door his portrait in oil hangs, and greets
us every day with that same sweet, mild look he always
had for us when alive. And if, at this late day, my
wife and I talk of Don, and the intelligence he pos-
sessed, how he guarded her and the children, how,
when once I asked him to go with her one stormy
night, he went and would allow no one to come near
her ; how when she moved he was always at her side :
and when she stepped out to sing he terrified the audi-
ence with his angry growl when some persons tried to
restrain him; and then, while she sang, he obeyed the
wish of his master and lay at his mistress’ feet and
guarded and protected her. and then saw her safely

368 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

home. How, when he had a rival for our affections in
the advent of our first-born, no jealousy entered his
noble heart, but he followed that child and loved him,
because he knew he was the idol of those he loved so
well. Is it strange, then, that when these things are
mentioned in our family circle, that an affectionate and
tender-hearted wife and mother should feel her heart
swelling and the tear-drops come down her cheeks ?
while I would get my paper turned upside down, look-
ing for what I could not tell. The depth of love Don
had for us could only be measured by his life; for his
life was devoted to us, and no child ever craved knowl-
edge as he did. He did not forget what he once un-
derstood, but his constant desire was to learn some-
thing new. It was not necessary to give him long les-
sons ; merely show him once, and he never forgot his
teachings. When we think of his death, how he was
in the prime of life, how we loved him, and then stum-
ble over some worthless cur in the streets, we cannot
help but feel that with dogs, as with human _ beings,
death loves a shining mark. We buried him on the
hillside, like a warrior, his valuables deposited in the
grave with him. Every morning when the sun rises
from his couch, he sheds his rays and warms the earth
that encloses Don’s remains; then reflects back his
light on the bosom of the Mississippi,—the stream on
which Don and I passed so many happy hours together.
The silent trees stand sentinels over his grave, and the
summer winds play olin music through their tops,
and sing sad requiems for the departed dead. He was only
a dog, and yet he was my Pythias, and would have died
for me. There stands no monument to mark his grave,

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. — 369

but while ¢tvo human beings live, his memory will be
ever green to them.

When once a man has raised and educated a dog,
ever showing to him unremitting kindness, there is no
human friendship that will stand the test against this
canine friend. The winds of adversity may blow
harshly against him; those whom he once called friends
may have deserted him; sudden prosperity may have
weaned from him those whom he most trusted; Gon-
erils and Regans may have been raised beneath his
roof,—but his four-footed friend will never forsake him,
and whether he be clothed in finest raiment, or wander
over the earth friendless, poverty-stricken, sick at heart
and bruised in body, this friend will remain steadfast to
him, die in his defense: or, when the end has come,
will make his bed at his master’s grave, and refuse food
and shelter, through day and night, storms and sleet,
‘watching his master’s grave until nature has exhausted
his vitality ; then, starved to death, with choked and
smothered breathing, he gladly dies at the grave of his
only friend.

“And he was faithful to a corpse,
And kept the birds and beasts
Which hungered there, at bay.”

The love for the dog has been inherent i: man for
generations, and the tribute paid to a dog 2,700 years
ago ranks equally in pathos and beauty with anything
written of him in modern times. Homer in his Odys-
sey speaks of Ulysses after an absence of twenty years
as being recognized by his old deerhound -

He knew his lord; he knew and strove to meet;
In vain he strove to crawl, and kiss his feet;
Yet all he could, his tail, his ears, his eyes,
Salute his master, and confess his joys.”

24

370 WILD FOWL SHOOTING.

Here, after a score of years had elapsed, the faithful
hound was true to his master, his friend, his companion
of early days. In the revolution of time he had not
been carried away, but lived to greet his master. His
strength was gone, his eyes fast growing dim; he
could not bound to meet him, as in days of yore; but
the love-light still shone in his eyes, and he longed to
crawl and lick the feet of his long-absent friend.

The constancy and affection of the dog has been a
theme of inspiration to Bulwer, Scott, Byron and oth-
ers. The noble hound Roswal, the companion of Sir
Kenneth, is thus eloquently spoken of :

* As he bore to the earth Conrad, Marquis of Mon-
serrat, traitor to Cour de Leon, the noble, faithful
Roswal had not forgotten that night upon the mound
beneath the standard of England; neither had he for-
gotten the traitor who, in the darkness, while a cloud
shut out the tell-tale ight of the moon, bore away the
ensign, and left him weltering in his blood; he remem-
bered all this when called upon to protect his master’s
honor, as well as to serve his king, and using the intel-
ligence given him by the same Power that gave us fa-
cilities above the beasts, he did what man could not—
detected and brought to justice the one guilty from out
an army.”

Cooper in his novels shows his love for the dog,
when he makes him a companion of Deerslayer for
years, following his master through valleys and glens
and along the Hudson. “Natty” and his faithful
friend eventually drift across the Mississippi and Mis-
souri rivers, and both find their graves in Nebraska.
The sad bereavement of the hunter is touchingly pen-
ciled in “The Prairie,’ and although old in years, the

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 871

dog was always a “ pup ” in the eyes of the old hunter.
And then, when the old man, sickened and enfeebled
with age, and knowing he was soon to pass into the
Valley of the Shadow of Death, among his last requests
was one, that there be engraved on the lock of his
rifle a “hound’s ear” in remembrance of his honored
dog. This volume of Cooper’s novels, “ The Prairie,”
has always been of great interest to me, for I believe I
have hunted geese in the same territory where most of
the incidents of that book are laid.

The love of the dog for his master is not confined to
those of blue-blood pedigree ; neither to those whose
whole life has been passed where their every want has
been anticipated and gratified; but curs of low degree,
who have been compelled to gain sustenance as best
they could, beaten, kicked and half-starved, form an
attachment that only dies with them.

One of the most touching incidents of the faithful-
ness of the dog that ever came to my attention occur-
red in Chicago, and was made the subject of the fol-
lowing notice in a local paper in that city :

“Those who have nothing but curses and kicks for
dogs and are ever wishing their extermination, would,
perhaps, be better citizens did they possess the same
strong attachments and friendships often exhibited by
them, and particularly by a large black and white
Newfoundland dog a few days ago during the exces-
sively cold weather. For some days he was noticed on
the pier off Lincoln Park intently watching the water,
and every now and then would go to the ice and water
and scratch, as if endeavoring to dig up something.
All through the bitter cold weather, night and day, he
faced the wintry blasts of the lake, and could not be

aie WILD. FOWL SHOOTING.

persuaded to leave his solitary vigil. The park police,
finding all efforts to get him from the pier futile, made
a bed for him, and daily brought him food, which he
refused. At last one morning ‘he was found dead on
the ice. The supposition is that his master had fallen
into the lake accidentally or had committed suicide.
He was only a dog, yet how many human beings could

be found like him?”

The following by “ Will-o’-the-Wisp ” touchingly re-

fers to it:
What seeks he there ?
That noble ‘‘ Landseer” Newfoundland.
Is it obedience to command
That, all unflagging, makes him stand
On the wind-swept shore so bleak and bare ?

What seeks he there ?
With wistful eyes, twin wells of woe,
With mournful whine so sad and low,
With sentinel tramping to and fro,
On the wind swept shore so bleak and bare ?,

What seeks he there ?
When halting on his lonesome beat,
He scratches still with bleeding feet
Where heaping ice and water meet,
On the wind-swept shore so bleak and bare.

What seeks he there ?
H’en when his faltering footsteps fail
To longer mark his bloody trail,
He crouches down with anguished wail,
On the wind-swept shore so bleak and bare.
What seeks he there ?
It is not food, for proffered meats
With no responsive wag he greets,
But every action search entreats,
On the wind-swept shore so bleak and bare.
What seeks he there ?
Is it his master whelmed in the tide,
That piling ice blocks ruthlessly hide ?
Is it for him that he watched and died
On that wind-swept shore so bleak and bare ?

The pathetic story of this Newfoundland finds a com-
panion piece in that of the spaniel. The scene is laid
on a dock where steamers land; ’tis twilight, and the
dull gray of coming night is fast settling over the earth
and water. Dimly in the distance can be seena steam-

DOGS, AND THEIR CHARACTERISTICS. 373

er fast disappearing; a low, black hull as she plows
through the wild water, leaves behind it a troubled
wake. The dense, black smoke overshadows the dark-
ness of approaching night. On the dock there stands,
half crouched, as if debating whether or not to plunge
into the water, a spaniel —one of the handsomest of its
kind. Every appearance denotes his utter despair.
The winds blow wildly through his pendulous ears, and
twines around his legs the silken hair of his tail ; around
his neck he has a collar, fastened into this a rope, whose
ragged end trails on the dock,—the ends show fine
strands, indicating that he has gnawed it off. So he has-
Chained to his kennel he witnessed the departure of
his master; he tried in vain to follow him; he sought
to break the ties that bound him, but could not. Fierce-
ly he attacks the rope with his sharp teeth, and is free.
He rushes in the direction of his departing master, and
arrives at the dock, too late, as the vessel is far from
shore. What he then does is depicted in these beauti-
ful lines :

‘‘ He has strained the rope which bound him, and at last has broken
free

Too late ! for there the steamer bears his master out to sea.

He is but a dog, and yet he has the yearnings of his kind,

And his heart is fairly breaking, that he is left behind.

With an effort he might reach him, if he struggles with a will ;

The master has forgotten, but the dog remembers still,

Plunge, the way is long and weary, and the distance grows more
wide, ;

But he has one hope to guide him, just to reach his master’s side.

Struggling, ever struggling onward, though the water beats him
back,

Struggling while his heart is failing, in the steamer’s silver track; _

Struggling with a last vain effort ; struggling till his strength is
gone 5 5

So the blue waves elose over him, and the twilight hastens on.”

The A. M. WEINHARDT

ENGRAVING CO.

Wood Engravers and Designers

71 Washington Street, CHICAGO, ILL.

We wish to draw the attention of Publishers, and all concerned in publishing
illustrated books or pamphlets, to the fact that we will get up strictly first-class
illustrations of whatever subject may be wanted, especially sporting work, and
guarantee original and life-like scenes at a reasonable price.

For samples of our work we refer to the illustrations of this book. As it is
our principle not to send out a poor piece of work, we hope to gain some of the
patronage of the readers of this good book.

We also do all kinds of commercial engraving for catalogues, circulars and
other advertising purposes.

Estimates Cheerfully Furnished.

Before going to the Score, or into the field, see to it and know that your Shells

are loaded with Powder manufactured by

J,QU PONT dé NEMOURS & C0.

WILMINGTON, DEL.

DU PONT RIFLE. SIZE OF GRAIN.
In three sizes of grain: FFFg (fine), FFg (medium), ov PONT RIFLE
Fg (coarse). F .
Is packed in kegs, 25 pounds; half-kegs, 12% pounds;
quarter-kegs, 64 pounds; one-pound canisters.

DU PONT’S EACLE DUCKING.

In three-sized grains: No. 3 (fine), No. 2 (medium),
No. 1 (coarse).

Packed in kegs, half-kegs, quarter-kegs and one-pound
canisters.

Undoubtedly the most popular high-grade powder
manufactured at the present day. No brand is as fa-
Miliar with sportsmen everywhere as Du Pont’s “Eagle
Ducking.’ Its peculiar properties are extreme quick-
ness, strength, and cleanliness.

3
DU PONT’S CHOKE BORE. ss
In two-sized grains: No. 5 (medium), No. 7 (coarse). &¢ wt
Packed in kegs, half-kegs, quarter-kegs and one-pound ah) r at ay reeeee
canisters. < yy wade att
A new brand specially adapted for choke bore guns; ns ot CRA :

a high grade of powder at an intermediate price; burns No] No3
slowly with great strength; does not bu n or cake on
the barrels, and gives the most regular pattern possible.

DU PONT’S CRYST ‘L CRAIN.

In three-sized grains: No. 3 (fine), No. 2 (medium),

No. 1 (coarse . 0 00>
A brand made to supply a limited demand for an ar- ot* ece ac
ticle where price is no object, and in which (by using a () Sy
nothing but the very choicest, selected and several times qnt8 q
refined materials) the highest point of perfection is & ¥ ry
attained. <¢ e@

Remember that it costs you no more to use the best than it does to
use an article of doubtful quality. All reliable gun dealers handle and
may obtain ‘DU PONT SPORTING POWDER,” upon application to

E. S. RICE General Agent,

71 Wabash Avenue, os CHICACO, ILL.

H. W. JENNEY, Cc. L. CRAHAM,

President. Sec’y and Treas.
BOATS, HUNTING EQUIPMENTS, RODS,
TENTS, REELS,
sm SPORTING GOODS
NETS, BAITS,
LAWN FINE ANGLING OUTFITS. BASE
TENNIS, ehe

Lefever Hammerfess Guns.

The best trap and fleld Gun made. It will out-shoot all others; is simpler
in construction and more durable.

A COMPLETE LINE OF AMERICAN AND FOREIGN GUNS

Of every standard make. W. & C. Scott & Sons’ Premier Hammerless;.
Colts’ Hammerless; Diana Hammerless; Davis’ Hammerless.

DALY THREE-BARREL,

Parker, Ithaca, Bonehill, Remington and others

Winchester, Ballard, Stevens and all Modern Rifles,

ye MAY 27TH, 158
ZPAT DO "APRIL 10TH AND JUNE 5TH, 7288.

PETERS’ LOADED SHELLS

Penetration Increased, Pattern Improved, Recoil Diminished,
Fou'ing Prevented.

JENNEY & GRAHAM GUN CO.,

SEND FOR CATALOGUE. 53 State Street, CHICACO.

The American Field

THE SPORTSMAN’S JOURNAL.

Pri YY © PAGES

Of the choicest reading matter pertaining to the Rifle, Rod,
Dog, Hunting, Natural History, and all subjects pertain-
ing to Field Sports and to Travel and Emigration,
of any paper published. The American
Field is consequently the recognized
authority on these subjects.

AS AN ADVERTISING MEDIUM

Ihe American Field

Is UNEXCELLED.

Owing to the fact that it reaches and is read by liberal buyers of
all classes of general merchandise, it is one of the very
best advertising mediums in America.

For sa‘e by all News Dealers in the United States, Canada and Europe.

SUBSCRIFPTION.

CORT CAGE ea ey ra ele epee hae 8 SE ee Be ee $5.00
Sexe MONTHS) erie a) Aa ee po eh ee OSS Ree ane oe Sees ee 2.75
Three or more (club rates) each per year--------------------- 4.00
Simp OMCOPIGA iss 2is— ire ee east 2 Se eee Ie See eee .10
MOLCIEN POStASO, Per years. 9.434 he) Sass eal ee eee 1.56

At $5.00 a year it is less than ten cents, and at $4.00 a year
—the club rate—it is less than eight cents a week. In no other
way can so much pleasure and information be obtained for so
small an expenditure.

Address all communications,

AMERICAN FIELD PUBLISHING CO.,

243 State St., CHICACO, ILL.

EASTERN OFFICE,
10 Warren Street, “~~ "= 7 ° ° 7 * NEW YORK.

F.C. WILSON & CO,

Manufacturers,
CHICACO.

JUMPING DUCKS
WITH

Allen’s Bow-Facer.

F. A. ALLEN’S IMPROVED DUCK CALLER.

The mostimportant article ina Duck Shooter’s outfit is his Caller. Place two Duck Shooters
ene quanta of a mile apart (all other things being equal) and the man witha good Caller will
get three times as many good shots as the other shooter will with a poor Caller and ten times as
many aS a man with no Caller. F. A. Allen’s Duck Call is the most natural toned, easiest
blowing, smallest and only Metal Duck Call ever invented, and is the only Callon the market that
perfectly imitates the Wild Duck, asit has none of the nasal twang of the Tame Duck. Amateur

uck Shooters are often deceived, thinking that the Tame Duck Call will successfully call Wild
Ducks; when, infact, the Tame and Wild Duck Calls are no morealike than the Tame and Wild Goose
Calls. Itis used inthe field by all the best duck shooters in America. The 1888 Caller has a new
attachment and requires no working of the hand. Sent by mailto any address on receipt of One

Dollar. Address,
FRED. A. ALLEN, Monmouth, Warren Co,, Ill.

PRICES OF ALLEN’S SPECIALTIES:

Allen’s Nickel Plated Duck Call, each $1.00. Allen’s Bow-Facing Rowing Gear, per set $6.00.
For sale by every Gun Dealerin the U. 8. Send for catalogue free.
WARNINC.—As irresponsible parties in New Jersey have placed on the market a horrible toned
imitation of my Duck Caller, stamped ALLYN, this is to notify all sportsmen and gun dealers that
none are of my make unless stamped ‘“‘ F. A. Allen, Monmouth, Ill.”

MIXTURES FOR PIPE OR CIGARETTE.

THREE KINGS, Turkish, Perique and Virginia.
MELLOW MIXTURE, Turkish and Perique,
TURKISH and VIRGINIA.
PERIQUE and VIRGINIA.
GENUINE TURKISH.

FLAKE CUTS, ESPECIALLY ADAPTED FOR THE PIPE.

VANITY FAIR. VIRGINIA FLAKES. OLD GOLD.
SALMACUNDI, A NEW GRANULATED MIXTURE.

KIMBALL’S STRAIGHT CUT CIGARETTES

Are exquisite in style.
Are dain-y, and carefully made.
Are extremely mild and delicate.
Are always uniform and up to standard.
Are put up in satin ar.d elegant boxes.
Are unsurpessed for purity and excellence.
Are special y adapted to people of refined taste.
Are composed of only the finest Virginia and Turkish leaf.

14 FIRST PRIZE MEDALS. WM. S. KIMBALL & CO.,
Peerless Tobacco Works. Rochester, N. Y.

Fremont, Elkhorn & Missour Valley B

“THE NORTH-WESTERN LINE,”

PENETRATES

NORTHERN NEBRASKA,

THE BLACK HILLS, 4y°
CENTRAL WYOMING.

(= Unsurpassed Chicken and Turkey Shooting in Northern Nebraska.
Antelope and larger game farther west and in the mountains.

For information write

J. R. BUCHANAN
poe Faeroe Manager, General Passenger Agent,

OMAHA, NEBRASKA.

SPORTSMEN’S WEAR

AID

EQUIPMENTS.

We manufacture the largest and most complete line of Sportsmen’s Wear
and Equipments in the world, consisting of Coats, Vests, Pants, Caps, Hats,
Leggins, Shirts, Boots, Shoes, Gun Cases, Cartridge Bags and Belts, etc., in
quality unequaled, at moderate prices.

Send for Catalogue and Samples.

GEO. BARNARD & CO.,

108 Madison Street, - = = ™ CHICAGO, ILL.

Wome of the Wid Fow!
CEDAR LAKE, ON THE MONON ROUTE.

The celebrated West Baden and French Lick Springs are also located on
this line. Send for Guide Book to the Florida Winter Resorts. Address,

E. O. McCORMICK, Ceneral Passenger Agent.
CITY TICKET OFFICE, 73 Clark Street, CHICAGO.

Among the Northen Lakes

Of Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri and Dakota are
hundreds of delightful places where one can pass the sum-
mer months in quiet rest and enjoyment, where the finest
fishing in America can be found, and return home at the
end of the heated term completely rejuvenated.

Along the line of our road is the Sportsman’s Paradise.
In Wisconsin, its dells are awakened with whirring RuFFEeD
GROUSE Minnesota and Iowa’s fields and lakes are the
homes of PRAIRIE CHICKENS and Ducks; Missouri thickets
abound with QuatL, and the fields of Dakota are alive
with HONKING GEESE.

eS —
NX BISMARCK ® Fargo = : Aehlana—M TL
Edgeley , Wahpeton 4 @ Minocqua
Ellendale) @ Harlem i
EnjrekaQ deen Wilm¢ a

er)
Bofwdle W [xv Ando

.

Roscoe:

pit 9 me 5
Orient}, gRedield PY on™ ict - s raed Eau Cl: aire
sos Pt SS r

IN K (1) : oo! . gto? hs a8 a
YN Wi pas : < eo SO Far th] 2 QS ey
pW oonso® Po ee pie a fle! Eos ate
A> ackson >» all Is

y,
ne Pt, 2 BGr
= Appteton_ 34
LS. o> oe >
‘ = > Cs: =
Ry Viroghuah, tan “ 9 yfon
RE ee Or. J i =
1 ileag “S50
. a ~ =
i, — . al
o 5A GheralPig Now cy :
Riatte W -
3 0 UBy ps.
hom |

Mapleton, 4p. Melbo,,
"Perry 2dr

Cedar Rapids, Z Ps, me
A < Yi "
“Raxy, DES MOINES < DAVENPORT
igourne

: ect none TS
a Map of 50 i aI
Cn ie

soURTI ey

D,,
ana rk ora is ie

(‘fa Chi i He
& Exc aie

°s a Yi y, 6
ansaSe cirTy AG Sees NYAS = We

EACH RECURRING SEASON BRINGS TO
OCONOMOWOC, WAUKESHA,
BEAVER DAM, FRONTENAC,
HOTEES Si. LOUIS, OKOBOJI,
LAKE MINNETONKA, WHITE BEAR,
EXCELSIOR SPRINGS,
and innumerable other charming localities with romantic
names, thousands of our best people whose winter homes
are on either side of Mason and Dixon’s line. Elegance
and comfort at a moderate cost can be readily obtained.
A list of summer homes, with all necessary information
pertaining thereto, is being distributed by the

Cuicaco, Niitwaukee & St. Paut Raitway,

And will be sent free upon application by letter to

A. V. H. CARPENTER,

Cen’! Pass. Agent, MILWAUKEE, WIS.

HARWOOD

THE CELEBRATED

“LL. C. SMITH”

Hammerless Hammer Guns,

AS PRIZE WINNERS, HAVE NO EQUAL.

Descriptive Catalogues Mailed Upon

Application,

CORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED.

L. C. SMII£H,

Manufacturer of Fine Guns, - SYRACUSE, N.Y,

IMPORTERS AND DEALELS IN

Fire-Arms and Ammunition.
FINE HAMMERLESS GUNS A SPECIALTY.

Scle Acents for the Daly Hammerless Gun and Daly Three-Barrel Gun,
The Westley-Richards Hammerless Gun.

Agents for the W. W. Greener Hammerless Gun, L. C. Smith Hammer-
less Gun, as well as cheaper

English and American Guns.

Winchester Rifles, Colt Rifles, Remington Rifles,

Smith & Wesson Revolvers, Remington Revolvers, and Colt Revolvers.
Shooting Suits, Gun Cases, Fishing Ta cEle, Campaign Goods,
and all articles used by Anglers or Shooters.

CHAMBERLIN
LOADED |
SHELLS. |

Blue Rock Pigeons and Traps. Spratt’s Dog Food and Medicines.
Table and Pocket Cutlery manufactured by the Russell Cutlery Co., Geo.
Wostenholm, Jos. Rogers, end other standard makes.

47 and 49 State Street, ~ = CHICACO, ILL.

coin
© §
ae
BO
re
Gee
eet a:
O WW
D a
Be)
oe oO
Cie
fa ee
a (
Oe
OVS
OQ,
op) :
4 Oo
eae
(GO Nisin ia
n e)
Oe les
Daw)
O79)
Danes
Sone Q
Bete So,
f i 1S . “N\\ iN / eS
- Oo © q | Ng ie WX va \ IN YEN ~
ale} yy }

DUCK SHOOTING IN ARKANSAS.
@eonmm=e «wp St. Louis, Iron Mountain & Southern Railway.

Runs Through the Famous Hunting and Fishing Crounds of

Arkansas. No State offers a larger variety of Game.

H. C. TOWNSEND,

General Passenger and Ticket Agent

ST. LOUIS, MO.

TAKE THE

fon, feat Pads: forthe

RAILWAY THE
To THE [OWA ROUTE

HUNTING and FISHING QURLINGTOy,

RESORTS

NORTHWESTERN IOWA 2
SOUTHERN MINNESOTA

THROUGH CARBS FROM CHICAGO,
PEORIA and ST. LOUIS.

The Spirit Lake Region of Iowais famous for its Excellent Chicken Shoot-
ing, Splendid Fishing and fine hotel accommodations.

HOTEL ORLEANS,

Open from June till September in each year, the finest Hotel in Iowa.

WORTHINGTON AND WATERVILLE, MINN.

Hxcellent Summer Fishing Grounds, reached also by the Burlington,
Cedar Rapids & Northern Railway.

For Descriptive Pamphlets and full information as to rates of fare,
time of trains, game regulations and hotel rates, address

J. E. HANNEGAN,

CGen’l Ticket and Passenger Agent, CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA.

fjhicago Hhot Power [jompany

ero on = SES Sparar are Se eke ee ie ke ee oe

MANURMNACTURERS OF

Standard Chilled =: Soft

DROP SHOT

ne
FERPA E FE FEL EEF SHEE EP EEF SESE SPE PTF HTTP tPF tte teats ttt atte!
a SRE ES CSS FSR SETS SS NS

Buck Shot and Bar | ead.

Office and Tower, 78 N. Clinton St., CHICAGO, ILL.

E. W. BLATCHFORD, Cc. F. GATES,

President. Secretary.

N. H. BLATCHFORD, Treasurer.

Blatchford Gartridges,

LOADED BY

THE CHICAGO
SHOT TOWER CO.

These Shells are of the most perfect man-
ufacture, of superior strength, and water-
proof, points which sportsmen will appreci-
ate. We have adopted for 10 Gauge Shells,
CREAM COLORED LABELS, and BLUE COL-
ORED LABELS for 12 Gauge. The machines
used for loading are of the latest and most
improved design, and are so constructed
that by perfect regularity of motion, they
perform each operation of loading with an
accuracy that can not be attained by even the
best ‘“‘hand loaders.’? The pressure upon
the wads is uniform, and so adjusted as to
recure the full force of the powder, while an
improved system of crimping diminishes
the recoil. Our combination of loads is the
result of long experience, careful experiments and the testimony of experts, and will, we
believe, meet the various wants of Sportsmen for game and trap shooting, for both of which
they have been used with marked success. Any desired combination, however, not listed by us
will be promptly filled with pleasure. Full list of loads will be mailed on application to

CHICACO SHOT TOWER COMPANY.

THE LARGEST SPORTING CGOODS HOUSE IN AMERICA.

A. G. SPALDING & BROS.

Manufacturers, Importers and Dealers in

Fishing Tackle, Dog Collars, Dog Food
and Kennel Goods.

BASE BALL SUPPLIES,

Lawn Tennis, Cricket, Croquet, Ice and Roller Skates, Foot
Balls, Lacrcesse, Polo, Cutlery,

Gymnasium, Theatrical and General Sporting Goods

Send for Illustrated Catalogue, designating kind of Goods
wanted. Address,

A. G. SPALDING & BROS.,

241 Broadway, NEW YORK. 108 Madison St., CHICAGO.

THE TO BE
FINEST SEEN
DISPLAY IN THE

OF WEST.

ALL CGRADES AT LOW PRICES.
D [A And Other
Precious Stones.
LATEST NOVELTIES IN J E W [_ r Y

Optical Coods, Silver Ware, Clocks, etc.

J.B. CHAMBERS & CO.

CLARK AND MADISON STREETS, CHICACO.

ESTABLISHED 1857. OPEN EVENINGS.

THE Blue

Rock TARGET:

———SSs

THE BEST FLYER,
‘“aMVaNa LSaG

AND
MosTr SaATIisFACTORYG TARGET

EVER MADE.
More Blue Rocks sold annually than all others combined. New style package, the only
perfect and secure method of packing targets ever devised. Plenty of imitators, but no equals.

See that all packages and targets are marked *‘ BLUE ROCKS,”’ Manufactured only by
THE CLEVELAND TARGET Co.,
Address all orders to Cleveland, Ohio.

WESTERN ARMS AND CARTRIDCE CO.,
47 and 49 State Street, CHICAGO.

y. FIRST-CLASS RAILROAD
wa

Penetrating the most attractive portions of

illinois, lowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota,
Dakota, Nebraska and Wyoming.

THE Direct Route

Tourists Sportsmen

Milwaukee, Waukesha, Madison, Neenah
and Menasha, Creen Lake, Marquette,
Lake Geneva, Fox Lake, Devil’s Lake.

St. Paul, Minneapolis, Duluth, Ashland,
Lake Minnetonka, Yellowstone
National Park.

Council! Biuffs, Omaha, Denver and the
Mountains of Colorado, Salt Lake City,
San Francisco, Los Angeles, Colton,
San Diego, Portland, Tacoma,
Seattle, Victoria, Vancouver and
all Callfornia, Alaska and
Pacific Coast Points.

Train
Service,

Between CHICAGO and destinations, is carefully arranged
to meet the requiremerts of Through and Local Travel, and
its equipment of new and superb SLEEPING CARS,
PALATIAL DINING CARS and ELEGANT PAR-
LOR CARS AND COACHES is such as to command
the patronage of the best class of travelers. It is the ONLY
LINE to the BLACK HILLS.

Rates, Maps, and all information furnished on application
“a any Ticket Agent, or to the General Passenger Agent, at

cago.

J. M. WHITMAN, H. C. WICKER, E. P. WILSON,
General Manager. Trafic Manager, General Passenger Agent,

inh

ul