A DAY WITH THE DUCKS ON LAKE CAYUGA 



BY A. A. ALLEN, PH. D. 



ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ORNITHOLOGY, CORNELL UNIVERSITY 



IT was seven below zero when we left the house and 

 it had not warmed up a bit when we stepped from 

 the train at the flag station at Willets and made our 

 way to the blind on Long Point. It felt like a good day 

 for ducks and the prospects for the day's hunt were 

 excellent. For twenty miles 

 the train had followed the 

 shore of the lake, and, 

 though the mist rising from 

 the lake had obscured every- 

 thing more than a hundred 

 yards from shore, we had 

 seen enough to know that the 

 ducks were moving and that 

 the canvasbacks had been 

 frozen out of their best feed- 

 ing ground at the north end 

 of the lake. We therefore 

 lost no time in traversing the 

 long mile from the station to 

 the blind and were soon toss- 

 ing out the decoys. A stiff 

 wind was blowing from the north, row after row of 

 white caps were visible off the end of the point and a 

 good surf was pounding on the north side. The moder- 

 ately quiet water 

 on the south side 

 was, therefore, the 

 place for the de- 

 coys and before 

 long, we had two 

 dozen male canvas- 

 backs bobbing 

 away at the left 

 and an equal num- 

 ber of mixed fe- 

 male canvasbacks 

 and bluebills at the 

 right. It was dif- 

 ficult to keep our 

 attention fixed on 

 chipping the ice, 

 which clung to the 

 decoys from previ- 

 ous usage, and get- 

 ting them all put 

 out, when every once in a while some member of 

 the party would call out, "get down," in the hope 

 that a flock of ducks, that was seen coming, might 

 fly close enough to the point to afford a shot. We 

 were so conspicuous, however, on the bare gravel 

 that though they were often headed straight for 



LARGEST OF THE DUCKS 



The canvasback, in good condition, weighs Zyi pounds, but the black 

 ducks often weigh four, and one exceptional individual weighed 

 four pounds and eleven ounces. 



A PROMISING DAY FOR DUCKS 



Low temperature, cloudy skies, and moderately strong winds make them fly the best. This is 

 the beginning of the days sport tossing out the decoys. 



us, they always shied off before coming in range. 

 The blind, as all of the shooting stands are called in 

 this part of the country, was a box sunk in the gravel 

 of the end of the point to such a depth that, when one 

 sat in it, only his head and shoulders were above the 



level of the ground. A little 

 gravel piled up behind the 

 box and a few willow 

 branches completed the de- 

 ception and rendered one al- 

 most invisible so long as he 

 remained motionless. When 

 the point is covered with 

 snow, white coats and hats 

 are necessary to be really in- 

 conspicuous. The box had 

 a low seat, was roomy 

 enough for one to stretch out 

 his feet, and held three men 

 comfortably. I say comfort- 

 ably, but no blind was ever 

 invented that was comfort- 

 able on a cold day. The comfort has to come entirely 

 from within, but it is strange how quickly one can 

 change from a half-frozen, stiff, rheumatic, clod to 



a warm, mobile, 

 energetic, human 

 being at the mere 

 sight of a flock of 

 ducks directing 

 their way toward 

 the stools. 



On this particu- 

 lar morning we 

 had plenty of op- 

 portunities for ob- 

 serving this be- 

 cause by the time 

 we were safely en- 

 sconced in the 

 blind, it was after 

 nine o'clock and 

 the morning flight 

 seemed to be over. 

 The wind died 

 down, the steam 

 from the lake hung heavily over the decoys, sometimes 

 almost hiding them from sight, and the ducks just seemed 

 to stop flying. At least they did not come close enough 

 so that we could see them through the mist. For fully 

 an hour we sat there without seeing a duck. Occasionally 

 a lone herring gull would sail by close enough to give 



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