98 “COME DUCK SHOOTING WITH ME” 
It was noon. The ducks in the big raft were getting 
uneasy. Those in the rear would start up in little 
bunches, fly over all the rest of the ducks, and light down 
again in front. They were approaching nearer our 
blind every time they did this. Teal like to get ona 
sandbar in the middle of the day, to preen their feathers 
and take a nap in the sun. There were a good many 
loose feathers scattered over the sand behind us and the 
teal evidently were accustomed to roost there in the 
middle of the day. 
It was warm and still, no one was shooting anywhere 
near, and only three parties of three each, the sportsman 
and his two guides, were shooting on the entire marsh. 
We would hear a shot now and then, but no one seemed 
to be having much success. A bunch of seven teal rose 
from the raft of ducks but instead of alighting again, 
they kept right on, heading straight for us. They came 
on rapidly and strangely enough rose high in air to 
cross the sandbar. They looked so small that, thinking 
they were out of shot, I lowered my gun, when Jimmy 
yelled, ‘‘Shoot! shoot quick! they’re within range, give 
it to ’em!’’ They were coming fast against the wind; 
aiming twenty feet ahead I fired. The chance to hit 
anything looked hopeless but the two leaders staggered 
in their flight and then fell. I was so surprised I did 
not even fire my other barrel, but watched the birds 
falling. 
Jimmy laughed. ‘‘Anyone would think you were a 
greenhorn at shooting ducks. Why didn’t you fire 
your second barrel instead of standing staring at them? 
The bunch was within shot.’’ 
‘‘We got a couple anyhow,’’ I said, ‘‘and that’s two 
more than I expected. The birds looked far out of 
range. ”’ 
