260 PEAIEIE AND FOREST. 



inducing your retriever to run about after sticks, provided 

 always that the shooter is out of sight. 



I remember such a circumstance occurring to me while 

 on the lower portion of the Chesapeake Bay, State of 

 Maryland. In the society of a veteran wild-fowl shooter, 

 I started one bitterly cold morning to shoot wild -fowl at a 

 place most appropriately designated the Mussel-hole. From 

 sunrise till two hours afterwards we enjoyed most excellent 

 sport, but soon a thaw commenced, accompanied by a soft, 

 balmy, southerly wind, which appeared to have the imme- 

 diate effect on all the wild- fowl, with the exception of an 

 enormous flock of brent, of sending them off seaward. For 

 over an hour we patiently waited for a change in the atmo- 

 sphere, but no such occurred ; and we were commencing to 

 chew the cud of disappointment, when evidences became 

 conspicuous that the brent also intended making a flitting. 

 After a deal of conversation in their ranks, much pluming 

 of feathers, and a great amount of flapping of wings, the 

 whole phalanx rose together, circled round twice, and 

 departed seaward. My never loquacious companion 

 silently watched them from behind our hiding-place, and 

 muttered to himself an oath. At length he exclaimed, with 

 some excitement, " I '11 try the old dodge." So pulling 

 out the dirtiest remnant of a scarlet pocket-handkerchief, 

 commenced waving it over head. I must acknowledge that 

 I was rather surprised, for I had never seen wild-fowl called 

 tip in such a remarkable manner. But the experienced 

 veteran was right ; the now distant flock slowly but 

 gradually turned, and, after several times shifting their 

 course, ultimately headed directly for our hiding-place. 



