130 “COME DUCK SHOOTING WITH ME” 
only a fraction of a second to aim, allow for a gale of 
wind and all contingencies, and the shot going true, to 
see the duck whirl downward head over heels until it 
strikes the water for the last time. One killed this way 
is more satisfaction than a dozen shot down while hover- 
ing over the decoys. 
It was easier for the mallards to fly against the wind 
than to fly with it. They would come, see my decoys 
and the dissipated six with evident surprise, and just 
hustle to get next, if the wind would let them. It was 
an hour long to be remembered, of splendid mallard 
shooting, of difficult but successful shots. I picked up 
sixteen mallards. The shooting was so interesting that 
everything else was forgotten. Looking around at last 
I saw the sun was hidden behind great masses of clouds. 
Just below the clouds, arrowheads of wild geese were 
flying in great wedges across the dark gray sky; while 
lower down flock after flock of ducks were steadily 
crossing the mountains to the north and flying onward, 
taking no notice of our lakes of fresh water, headed for 
Southern feeding places. Winter was at their heels and 
the wild fowl knew it. 
Jimmy was still firing from his blind and the boom of 
his gun came down wind across the water pretty regu- 
larly. Now and then when his firing slackened I 
would wave my hat but Jimmy took no notice. It 
was getting very cold; my extra leather jacket did not 
give as much warmth as | liked, but walking around up 
to the knees in mud and water, picking up widely 
scattered ducks, warmed me up in short order. Jimmy 
saw me. picking up and came over. 
‘Pretty cold isn’t it?’’ he remarked. ‘‘Glad I 
brought along this vest; first time I’ve worn it this sea- 
son. I feel real comfortable in it.”’ 
