VII 



L THE WHITE FISHER 



WHEN" I was a small boy I was sometimes allowed 

 to accompany my older brother on a duck hunting 

 expedition to Skunk River, two or three miles away. We 

 usually got away from home before daylight and walked 

 with the expectation of reaching the ponds by sunrise, for 

 that is the time at which there is the best chance of getting 

 wild ducks. One spring we had not been able to get away 

 from home and go hunting as often as we wished, which 

 would have been a great many times indeed. I am 

 ashamed now that I ever went hunting at all in the spring, 

 for at this time birds are so intent on love making and 

 nest building that they do not have a fair chance; and 

 besides a bird killed at this time means several more 

 that they might have reared that season. 



Along about the last of April, after most of the ducks 

 and geese had gone north, some one told us that there waa 

 a floc of ducks staying in the crabapple pond. That was 

 very interesting news, for hunters had long since gone to 

 the more profitable business of plowing for corn, and so 

 we boys were sure that our chance of securing some of 

 these ducks would be very good. As there were not so 

 many hunters along the river, we thought it would not 

 be necessary to go early in the morning; so after break- 



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