924 DUCK SHOOTING. 
we should have doubted which way this bird was 
flying. Once he turned, from a change of fancy or 
fearing danger, but perceiving some other cause of 
alarm he again straightened his course towards us. 
We were bent down, peering eagerly through the 
high reeds, as at last he came by, within a long gun- 
shot, on the side of my companion. The latter, ris- 
ing at the exact moment, wheeled round, brought 
up his gun, and fired in an instant. It was just with- 
in range, but the bird turned over, killed dead, and 
fell with a great splash into the water, sending the 
spray six feet into the air. Seizing the pole, I pushed 
out to him, and found that he was a blue-bill, one 
of the best birds of the Western waters, and at this 
time in perfection. 
We again concealed ourselves ; but noticing that 
the birds shunned the spot, I determined to leave it, 
and pushed out alone to one of the principal land- 
marks, where the landscape presents so great a uni- 
formity—a large umbrella-like elm upon the distant 
shore. I did not follow the regular channel; and 
at first the way was a difficult one, being directly 
through a fringe of wild rice, where the water was 
shallow and the stalks reached high above my head, 
but beyond, an open patch of water-lilies stretched 
for half a mile. 
The broad, smooth leaves of this remarkable 
plant, far larger than those of the pond-lilies of the 
Eastern States, lay in numbers upon, or half buried 
in, the water; while standing up a few feet above 
its surface with their straight stems, and gracefully 
