SEA SHOOTING ON THE ATLANTIC. 42 1 



the movements of the other boats : the regular sound of 

 the oars, the heavy plunge of the anchor as it is tossed 

 out, the impatient exclamation of some neighbor who 

 has suffered misadventure, the loud laughter of another 

 who is conversing with a companion. 



As the first light appears in the east the whistling of 

 wings begins to be heard ; perhaps the plaintive cry of a 

 loon comes floating through the twilight, or the distant 

 calling of a black duck, feeding in the marsh. Pres- 

 ently, from near the shore, a gun is heard, followed by 

 the high-pitched laugh of a loon, which, in the darkness, 

 has flown close up to the boats, and being shot at, flies 

 down along the line, looking for an opening. As his 

 shadowy form is discerned in the dusk of the morning, 

 each gunner hurls after him an ounce of lead, but, un- 

 touched, he passes on, and finally is lost in the gray 

 mists of the distance. At the report of the guns, far 

 out over the water is heard the faint whistling of many 

 wings, and with them comes the melodious honking of 

 gangs of geese, passing high overhead. The sky 

 grows brighter and brighter, more gunshots are heard, 

 and presently the sun rises. 



Now, as one looks seaward, great bunches of birds 

 can be seen rising from the water, and these breaking 

 up into small flocks, fly in all directions. Perhaps the 

 first to approach the line will be a bunch of great coots, 

 some of them white-winged, others dead black and still 

 others gray. They fly swiftly and steadily, and come 

 nearer and nearer, until they have almost reached the 

 line of boats, and then, noticing them — seemingly for 



