182 FEATHERED GAME 



reeds with his decoys placed about the edges of 

 some convenient "pond-hole." Soon Mr. Yel- 

 low-legs is seen wheeling about just out of gun- 

 shot, his long legs stretched out straight behind 

 him and his head turning from side to side in 

 search of his answering friend. He sights the 

 decoys, and now his call is one short, sharp, 

 questioning note. The deceiver answers just 

 as he asks, and the bird sweeps down with set 

 wings, then skimming along ten feet above the 

 grass, discovers the cheat and starts, too late, 

 away. A sudden flash from the screening 

 reeds, and all in a heap, as neck, wings and legs 

 roll into one shapeless lump, the bird comes to 

 earth; a convulsive kick, a tremulous flutter of 

 feeble wings, a gasp, and he lies still upon the 

 grass, "another victim of misplaced confi- 

 dence. ' ' Look at him ! One of the finest shore- 

 birds which we have on our coasts, either to 

 shoot or for the table. Perhaps the next will be 

 a flock of half a dozen, when the gunner may 

 make his "double" with much satisfaction to 

 his vanity. Marsh gunning is fair and legiti- 

 mate sport only when the gunner will do his 

 shooting at birds on the wing. It certainly de- 

 generates into "pot-shooting," or worse, when, 



