THE GAME-DUCKS. 173 



idea of their uumbev would necessitate the employment of 

 inadmissible superlatives, while an}' estimate would be 

 hopeless. I often wish some of the legislators who premised 

 an Act of Parliament with the preamble that wildfowl are 

 decreasing in the British Islands, could see some of the 

 spectacles I have viewed during the past few months. But 

 attempt to " set up " to these whistling, chattering hordes 

 in a gunning-punt — let your boat be the lowest, the lightest, 

 and the fastest ever launched, and her occupants full masters 

 of their craft — they will utterly fail. The Sea-Pj'ots, 

 Plovers, and such-like simple birds (if alone) will, no doubt, 

 admit of approach ; but as for the rest, the Curlews, Godwits, 

 Knots — well, they know a gunning-punt and its meaning as 



MALLARDS ASLEEP— MIDDAY 



well as though each of them had a copy of Hawker or Payne- 

 Gallwey in his pocket. 



Yet, strange to relate, the Mallards, the finest and most 

 valuable fowl of them all, despite the experience of gener- 

 ations, do not yet seem fully to have learned to recognize the 

 deadly nature of that low white craft. Time after time I 

 have " shoved" up to within sixty, even fifty, yards of their 

 still unconscious flotilla, drifting slowly along on the tide, all 

 inanimate and apparently asleep, hardly a head to be seen. 

 Even after the cruel disappointment of a miss-fire they have 

 not risen at once. Up go their necks, full stretch, at the 

 snap of the cap, and their deep-toned and intensely eloquent 

 '* q-u-a-r-k ! q-u-a-r-k ! " is barely audible, so gently and 

 suspiciously is the alarm note sounded, but they do not rise 



