SLICKING FOR FLYINGFISHES 



circle of radiance of a light they are as helpless as 

 moths. Fishermen sometimes gather a full catch by 

 sitting quietly with a lantern in a boat while the 

 fish leap over and in of their own accord. I have 

 known them to strike the side of the Arcturus with 

 sufficient force to stun themselves, and have had 

 them fly into lighted portholes to the farther wall 

 of the cabin. They sometimes fall on the decks of 

 vessels many yards above the surface of the water. 



Aside from this method of jacking, however, it 

 is far from easy to capture full-grown flyingfish. I 

 have succeeded in shooting them with a double- 

 barreled shotgun from the bow of a launch and 

 have found it the most exciting and difficult of 

 sports. When an area is reached which these fish 

 are known to inhabit, I brace myself as firmly as 

 possible and the launch is driven ahead full speed. 

 The flushing and shooting of pheasants and quail 

 is child's play in comparison, for here we have the 

 advance, pitch and roll of the boat, the flicker of 

 light on the ever moving waves, together with the 

 complete uncertainty of the direction of rise and 

 flight of the quarry. And hardest of all is the fact 

 that one shoots below the level of the shoulder, and 

 this demands a technique which is wholly alien to the 

 shooting of game birds. 



A wing injury will generally cause the fish to dive 

 at once, before the launch reaches it, but at the 

 slightest nick of a shot pellet on the body it turns 

 over and remains quiet until scooped up in a net. 



When I leave civilization and start out for some 



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