12 DUCKING DAYS 



entire bunch. The Hermit had left a coil of loose hay 

 v/ire used in the making of drowners for his mink traps 

 lying on the floor of the scull in which unnoticed, the 

 gun muzzles had become entangled, and before I could 

 free them from the incubus the birds were speeding well 

 on their way. I could not resist a parting shot with the 

 left barrel, however, and more by good luck certainly, 

 than good shooting, the charge found two birds in the 

 flock lapping, and the double kill went in with twin 

 splashes side by side. 



The above incidents were taking place in much less 

 time than the reader has taken to peruse them and I 

 had just broken my gun after the shot when to my 

 astonishment a husky broadbill popped to the surface 

 like a cork not 20 yards in front and sat for one brief 

 moment as though carved in stone. A lone member of 

 the flock, he had been browsing down below quite obliv- 

 ious to the scene being enacted above him, and now, as 

 he shook the water from his eyes to find himself deserted 

 and in such imminent proximity to his deadliest enemy, 

 his look of surprise and consternation — if a duck can be 

 said to have such a thing as countenance — were enough 

 to excite the risibilities of a wooden Indian. Yes, gentle 

 reader he ''lit out" as only a scared duck can and had 

 you missed him, well, you had good excuse enough. 



The haycock houses of the muskrats reared their 

 domes in dozens along the borders of the tules, telling 

 of good trapping soon to come with the last days of open 



