Summer Shooting 



of the incomparable virtue of pa- 

 tience. I have sat in a blind for five 

 hours, by the watch — and awake near- 

 ly all the time at that — without see- 

 ing or hearing a bird worth shooting. 

 It is, however, neither the killing 

 of birds nor the cultivation of patience 

 that has exacted my absolute submis- 

 sion to the fascination of shore-bird 

 shooting on Cape Cod. It is hard 

 to explain this fascination, but my no- 

 tion is that it grows out of a conceited 

 attempt to calculate the direction of 

 the wind and other weather condi- 

 tions over-night, the elaborate prepa- 

 rations for a daylight start, the uncer- 

 tainties of the pursuit under any con- 

 ditions, the hope, amounting almost 

 to expectation, that notwithstanding 

 this the wisdom and calculation ex- 

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