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WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



archly looks around, as if to say, " Are you coming ? 

 Are you coming ? " He seems to interpret her inmost 

 thoughts, rises on his feet, preens himself, and hastily 

 swims, following her, while there issues from his vel- 

 vet covered throat a low, vibrating " M-amph, M-amph," 

 which causes the blood of the hunter to tingle with 

 electric fervor. As some dark object passes between 

 us and the sun, a flitting shadow is cast upon the water. 

 Without moving our body our eyes are cast up, and we see 

 a pair coming in, decoyed by those in the water. They 

 seem to stand in the air, momentarily held up by their 

 swift moving, fluttering wings. We hear the " whew" 

 of their wings, as the slight breeze carries the sound to 

 us, and slowly dropping, gracefully descending, sus- 

 tained by their strong wings, they alight beside their 

 friends, exchanging low chuckling greetings, and each 

 pair swims off by themselves. At this time we notice 

 what we have so often seen before, the marked con- 

 trast between the male and female mallard, in both 

 beauty and size. The male is larger, stronger, and en- 

 dowed with more brilliant plumage. 



The breeding place of the mallard, like all other 

 water-fowl, is in the far North, and yet as the season 

 advances from early to late, snow storms, rough weather, 

 cold March winds, winds that have forgotten the time 

 they were due, and with their noisy howl and dismal 

 shrieking, convert what should be balmy April into a 

 cold, disagreeable, almost wintry month. The cold 

 winds and raw days, seem at times to unsettle the 

 ducks, and they delay their departure from time to time 

 until spring lapses into summer. Before this time they 

 have discovered luxuriant feeding grounds, food in 

 plenty, and solitaiy retreats in vast marshes of wild 



