POINT SHOOTING. Z^7 



buzzard or a blackbird passed over the water all three 

 would call earnestly. 



As I stood there watching the live decoys enjoy the 

 water and their freedom from the coop, I heard John 

 call "Mark to the east," and, turning, saw a single bird 

 coming low over the marsh. Gently lowering my body 

 until my head was hidden by the cane which formed 

 the blind, I watched the simple bird's approach. John 

 had given utterance to vigorous quacks, which had 

 caught the bird's ear, and it had seen the decoys and 

 was flying toward them. While it was still lOO yards 

 distant the old drake saw it and saluted, and the ducks 

 lifted up their voices in sonorous calls. This was too 

 much for the lone black duck. He passed outside the 

 decoys, well beyond gunshot, swung up into the wind, 

 turned back, and with lowered flight and down-bent 

 neck surveyed the decoys and prepared to alight. He 

 swung over the live ducks and up toward the drake, 

 and I jumped up, put the gun on him and pulled. Bang 

 went the first barrel and bang the second; the duck 

 climbed and climbed, and kept climbing; Gunner tore 

 through the cane to see what had fallen and to bring 

 in the bird ; John made no comment and I said nothing 

 either, though I had missed a shot that a ten-year-old 

 boy ought to have killed. 



I knew why I had missed the bird, though not how. 

 I had let him get too far over the decoys and past me, 

 and shot at him as he was going away, and not allow- 

 ing for the velocity of his flight, had shot behind him. 

 So my first shot for the season was a disgraceful miss. 



