WILD TURKEY HUNTING. 25 
much—one, that grated unnaturally on the poor bird’s 
ear—but not so,—they lead him to his doom, filling his 
heart with hope and love. 
To the bird there is one strange incongruity in the 
“‘call’””—-never before has he gone so far with so little 
success; but the note is perfect, the time most nicely 
given. 
Again he rolls forth a loud response, and listens— 
yet no answer: his progress is still slow. 
The cluck again greets his ear; there was a slight 
quaver attached to it this time, like the forming of a 
second note; he is nearing his object of pursuit, and 
with an energetic “call;” he rushes forward, his long 
neck stretched out, and his head moving inquiringly from 
side to side. 
No longer going round the various obstacles he 
meets with in his path, but impatiently flying over them, 
he comes to an open space, and stops. 
Some six hundred yards from where he stands may 
be seen a fallen tree; you can observe some green 
brush, that looks as if it grew out of the very decayed 
wood; in this “ brush” is hidden away the deadly fowl- 
ing piece, and its muzzle is protruding towards the open 
ground. Behind it is the hunter, flat upon the ground, 
yet so placed that the weapon is at his shoulder. He 
seems to be as dead as the tree in front of him. Could 
you watch him closely, you would perceive that he 
scarcely winks for fear of alarming his game. 
i. 
od 

