294 Tbe Turkey Family 



for walking in the woods was like stepping on 

 splintering glass. After a bitter day, followed by 

 a colder night, the ice was strong everywhere ; but 

 there was no tracking, and the woods were yet 

 noisy. That night a young fellow called and told 

 about a flock of turkeys which had been feeding 

 for days on shelled corn, which had fallen from 

 some car, and formed a heavy trail of grain for 

 nearly three-fourths of a mile. The birds, he said, 

 had found it, and for several days had come out 

 to feed about three o'clock. 



" Go down there to-morrow," said my host ; 

 "there's a big culvert will hide you, and if you 

 take both rifle and gun, you'll be sure of one 

 chance anyway." 



Things dragged slowly about the house, and as 

 my host was clearly worrying about the lack of 

 sport, I decided to go. Shortly after noon I 

 started. The trail of corn was easily found, and 

 the sign indicated at least a fair flock of turkeys. 

 But the conditions were rather awkward. Upon 

 either side of the single track spread a sea of ice 

 which extended far into the woods. The big cul- 

 vert was filled to within a couple of feet of the top, 

 which meant nearly six feet of water, and this ap- 

 peared to be the only available hide. I did not 

 greatly fancy it, but after a thorough test of the 

 ice decided to try it. To collect a couple of bits 

 of fence-rail and a big armful of dry weeds was 



