SEA SHOOTING ON THE ATLANTIC. 423 



flight remind one of the movements of the passenger 

 pigeon, while their continued and peculiar cry, owl- 

 owl-owly, is a pleasing sound as it ripples musically 

 across the water. 



As the morning proceeds and the birds fly across 

 different parts of the line, there is continued interest 

 and excitement. Men are looking in all directions for 

 birds, and such cries as, "All solid to the east'rd," "To 

 the south'rd," "All down," and other warning cries, are 

 constantly passed from boat to boat, as the birds are 

 seen coming from the different directions. 



Often a bunch of birds will come quite close to the 

 line, and then, alarmed by some movement, will whirl 

 off and away, only to return and try to cross at some 

 other point. Sometimes they may separate, and en- 

 deavor to pass in two or three small bunches, and then 

 the shooting is like that of a skirmish line, as every one 

 within reach, and some who are beyond it, shoot at the 

 birds. The interest is kept up all through the morn- 

 ing, and many birds fall. Most of them, probably, will 

 be coots or old-squaws, but there may be a few broad- 

 bills, perhaps a black duck or two, some whistlers and 

 loons, and perhaps a crow, shot wantonly by some 

 man who knew no better. So the sport proceeds, and 

 the hours glide by, until, when the village spire sends 

 its music quivering across the bay, telling the hour of 

 eleven, anchor is weighed, and all the boats start for 

 the shore. 



In the dead of winter, when the cold is bitter, and 

 the shores are piled with ice, so that the boats can 



