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, 
