334 



DUCK. 



both popular and scientific, is carried on systematically 

 in those places, and the quantity captured is far 

 greater than one would suppose. There are various 

 methods of doing this ; but the chief, in point of 

 success, is the decoy ; and instances have been known 

 of eight hundred pounds being cleared one year by a 

 single decoy on the coast of Essex. 



These decoys consist, in the first place, of an 

 expanse of water, which is called the pond, and 

 which is placed in the shelter of reeds, and, generally 

 speaking, also of bushes. The banks of the poud are 

 left clear for some little way, so that the birds may- 

 rest upon land, and, in short, this portion of the 

 contrivance is made as tempting as possible, as much 

 of the success depends upon this requisite. But, 

 though the ducks resort to the pond in vast numbers, 

 and pass the day in an inactive state, yet still great 

 skill, or, at all events, practice, is required in examining 

 the pond, because they are exceedingly watchful, 

 take wing on the least alarm, and do not readily 

 settle. The sense of smelling is remarkably acute in 

 those birds, as one might naturally suppose, from the 

 margins of their bills being so copiously supplied with 

 nerves. In consequence of this, when it becomes 

 necessary to approach them on the windward, it is 

 usual to carry a little bit of burning turf, the acid 

 smoke of which counteracts the smell of the carrier, 

 which would be sufficient to alarm the birds, except 

 for this precaution. The inland extremity of the 

 pond is formed into pipes, or funnel-shaped channels, 

 which narrow gradually, and have at the end a 

 permanent net placed upon hoops. This net forms 

 the trap in which the birds are taken often in vast 

 numbers at one time. In order that the decoy may 

 be worked in all weathers, it is necessary that there 

 should be one to suit each of the prevailing winds. 

 We need not farther go into the details of this mode 

 of bird-catching. The ducks are enticed by tame 

 ones, which are trained for the purpose ; and it is 

 from them that persons employed to entice others to 

 their injury are called " decoy-ducks." 



These birds begin to be taken in October or 

 November, and the taking continues till the end of 

 February, between which time and the following 

 October operations are prohibited. Besides these 

 decoys, there are, in the places where ducks are 

 numerous, many of the country people who shoot 

 them. These are called punt-shooters, or punt-gunners, 

 in the creeks and openings of the streams in the 

 lower part of the Thames estuary ; and as they ply 

 night and day, according as the tide answers, their 

 labour is very severe. In the south of England it is 

 a still more serious labour ; and as the following 

 account, drawn up by Gilpin, is very characteristic, 

 we shall introduce it : " The coast between Hamp- 

 shire and the Isle of Wight is peculiar, consisting, at 

 ebb-tide, of vast muddy flats, covered with green sea- 

 weed. It affords the fowler an opportunity of prac- 

 tising arts perhaps not elsewhere resorted to. Fowling 

 and fishing are indeed, on this coast, commonly the 

 employments of the same person. He who, in sum- 

 mer, with his line or net, plies the shores when they 

 are overflowed by the tide, in winter, with his gun, 

 as evening draws on, runs up in his boat among the 

 creeks which the tide leaves in the mud-sands, and 

 lies in patient expectation of his prey. Sea-fowl 

 usually feed by night, when, in all their multitudes, 

 they come down to graze on the savannahs of the 

 chore As the sonorous cloud advances (for their 



noist: in the air resembles a pack of hounds in full 

 cry), the attentive fowler listens which way they bend 

 their course. Perhaps he has the mortification to 

 hear them alight at too great a distance lor his gun 

 (though of the longest barrel) to reach them, and, if 

 he cannot edge his boat round some winding creek 

 which is not always in his power, he despairs of 

 success that night. Perhaps, however, he is more 

 fortunate, and has the satisfaction to hear the airy 

 noise approach nearer, till at length the host settles 

 in some plain upon the edge of which his boat is 

 moored. He now, as silently as possible, primes both 

 his pieces anew (for he is generally double armed), 

 and listens with all his attention. It is so dark that 

 he can take no aim, for, if he could discern the birds, 

 they would also see him, and, being extremely timo- 

 rous, would seek some other pasture. Though thev 

 march with noise, they feed in silence ; some in- 

 distinct noises, however, if the night be still, issue 

 from so vast a concourse. He directs his piece, 

 therefore, towards the sound, fires at a venture, and, 

 instantly catching up his other gnn, discharges it 

 where he supposes the flock to rise on the wing. 

 His gains for the night are now decided, and he has 

 only to gather up his harvest. He immediately puts 

 on his mud-pattens (flat square pieces of board, which 

 the fowler ties to his feet, that he may not sink in the 

 ooze), ignorant yet of his success, and goes groping 

 about in the dark in quest of his booty, picking up 

 sometimes many, and perhaps not one. So hardly 

 does the poor fowler earn a few shillings, during a 

 solitary winter night, be the weather as it comes, 

 rain, hail, or snow, on a bleak coast, a league probably 

 from the beach, and often liable, without great care, 

 to be fixed in the mud, when he would become an 

 inevitable prey to the returning tide. One of these 

 poor fellows, I have heard say, never takes a dog 

 with him on these expeditions, because no dog could 

 bear the cold which he is obliged to suffer ; and, after 

 all, others frequently enjoy more from his labours 

 than himself, for the tide often throws next day, on 

 different parts of the shore, many of the birds which 

 he had killed, but could not find in the night." 



This hazardous occupation once led a fowler into 

 singular distress. It happened, too, in the daytime, 

 which shows still more forcibly the risk of such 

 nocturnal expeditions : " Mounted on his mud- 

 pattens, he was traversing one of these oozy plains 

 in search of ducks, and, being intent only on his 

 game, suddenly found the water, which had been 

 accelerated by some peculiar circumstance affecting 

 the tide, had made an alarming progress around him, 

 and he found himself completely encircled. In this 

 desperate situation an idea struck him aa the only 

 hope of safety. He retired to that part which seemed 

 the highest, from its being yet uncovered by water, 

 and, striking the barrel of his long gun deep into the 

 ooze, he resolved to hold fast by it, as well for a 

 support as a security against the waves, and to wait 

 the ebbing of the tide. He had reason to believe a 

 common tide would not have flowed above his 

 middle ; but, in the midst of his reasoning .on the 

 subject, the water had now reached him. It rippled 

 over his feet, it gained his knees, his waist, button 

 after button was swallowed up, until at length it 

 advanced over his shoulders. With a palpitating 

 heart he gave himself up for lost. Still, however, he 

 held fast by his anchor ; his eye was eagerly in 

 search of some boat which might accidentally be 



