1 88 DUCK SHOOTING. 



thither, constantly uttering their mellow cry and re- 

 minding one, in their swift and darting flight, of the 

 flocks of wild pigeons which used to be seen in the 

 olden times. 



Beautiful and active bird though it be, the old-squaw 

 is unfit for use on the table. It is always fishy, and no 

 treatment with which I am acquainted will render its 

 flesh palatable. It feeds chiefly on shell-fish, and its 

 flesh tells the story. 



In the spring, when the birds are preparing to take 

 their flight to the North, they prepare themselves for 

 their long journey by extended flights ; as the local gun- 

 ners call it, "trying their wings." Late in the after- 

 noon they rise from the water in great flocks and cir- 

 cling high in the air, fly about for hours, performing 

 many beautiful evolutions. The migrations are usually 

 performed by night and perhaps at no very great height 

 above the ground. At all events, I recall that some 

 years ago, in a New England village near the Sound, 

 the weather-vane one morning in April was observed to 

 be missing from one of the churches. A search re- 

 vealed it lying on the ground near the building, bent 

 and broken, and not far from it was the body of a male 

 old-squaw, which had flown against the vane with such 

 force as to break off the iron pivot on which it swung. 



