Duck-sbooting 5 1 



duck part company with the rest, and before the 

 gun is loaded is a chance at a single duck. A 

 dozen more are almost in range. Two cut in, and 

 one stays. The flight for a few minutes is steady ; 

 then the birds seem to have risen higher, and do 

 not decoy as well. Guns on all sides in the marsh 

 keep them moving. A flock of something differ- 

 ent now flashes by, and a dozen hooded mergansers 

 dart over the decoys. A pair of green-winged teal 

 light ; and as they stop, a double folds them up. 

 Every few minutes black duck, in twos and threes, 

 sometimes a small flock, call forth shots. This 

 shooting lasts until noon, and then comes a brief 

 respite. There is an opportunity to look about. 

 Some hundred yards off are the dead birds, drifted 

 against the edge of the marsh. There are forty 

 odd, and a number of cripples have crawled off; 

 not once has the boat been pushed out. Lunch 

 seems in order, but it is cut short by another little 

 flight. Three or four more teal are bagged. A 

 shadow over the decoys, and an eagle swoops, de- 

 ceived by the wooden ducks. A scream tells his 

 fright, and he lifts himself up out of reach. With 

 afternoon comes more shooting, black duck mostly, 

 and some teal. One of the last chances is a single 

 black duck high up, and going with the wind ; but 

 it smashes through the quills at the shot. Sunset 

 is near at hand, and Pearson's Pond is about an 

 hour from home. The punter takes up. Between 



