78 “COME DUCK SHOOTING WITH ME” 
the last to cross the mountains that day. The eight 
flocks probably came from the same locality. At any 
rate they hung together. The redheads were strangers. 
They circled the lake high in air, took a look first at the 
westward raft and then flew over and sized up the 
eastern bunch. Doubtful of joining forces with either, 
they saw my decoys, and decided on a middle course. 
Lowering fast in one great circle, they set their wings 
and headed in for the decoys. I threw my cigar stump 
recklessly away; it struck the water with a gentle hiss— 
perhaps that was what started my heart to pumping. 
There were thirty redheads. It’s easy to be cool 
when a single or a pair come within range, but thirty 
redheads all at once is different. I was excited. Three 
fell at the first cartridge. The redheads hit their fastest 
pace after the first shot. I yanked again at the trigger 
—there was no report. In my excitement I had for- 
gotten to release the trigger of the automatic for a 
fraction of a precious instant. When I remembered 
and was ready to fire again the ducks were out of range. 
But I fired the four remaining shells as fast as I could, 
just for luck and to become accustomed to doing it. 
Two of the redheads were easily retrieved, the third 
one flew nearly to the shore before he fell. Jimmy 
would see him when he returned so I did not go after 
him. I was dissatisfied with my redhead experience, 
but did not have long to worry over it as two spoonbills 
came in on my right side and alighted outside the de- 
coys, forty yards from the boat. They were restless 
and ready to fly, but I managed to turn my chair with- 
out alarming them and stood up. The spoonbills flew 
instantly. The first one dropped at the end of his spring 
into the air. Remembering this time to release the trig- 
ger, I fired again. The second spoonbill was actively 
