THE LOST JOKE 127 
There I sat, monarch of all I surveyed, not a duck in 
sight, but I felt sure they would begin coming back to 
their old feeding grounds before long. I took a little 
stroll in the tules and started a jacksnipe, the only one 
I had seen on the trip, which seesawed away over the 
marsh calling cheerfully back to me that he had 
‘“‘scaped.”” My neck began to get tired twisting all 
ways at once, watching for ducks. At last I saw one, 
well out over the water, heading straight for the blind. 
As he swung past the outside decoys, I let go and down 
he came, a cock teal in full winter plumage. 
To pass away the time I got a sharp stick, ran it 
under his head and stuck him up just outside the decoys. 
Somehow he didn’t appear quite so shipshape as the 
ones Jimmy sat up. He had a dissipated, rakish look, 
as though he had been on a jamboree and was trying to 
get the decoys to go on a spree with him. Then came 
another half-hour wait and nothing doing. Half a 
dozen curlew sailed swiftly by, with the wind behind 
them. I let them go without a shot. Many years 
ago on an Eastern marsh, where I used to get busy 
shooting shore birds, such a sight would have created 
an excitement, as shooting a curlew there was an 
event. 
A widgeon came flying before the wind over the tules 
on the left, saw the decoys, and headed straight for 
them. I laughed as I crouched low down in the sub- 
cellar of Jimmy’s two-story blind. It did seem high. 
The widgeon became suddenly shy, it circled round 
outside the decoys. Perhaps the double-decker blind 
was too much for his nerves. On the second circle he 
came within fifty yards. It was then or never, and it 
was then. I heard the shot strike and saw the duck 
spring high in air to get out of danger. Raising my aim 
