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 
