210 



WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



crest of the big " white caps " ; have stranded on sunk- 

 en logs, while the swift running current of the Wapsi- 

 pinicon river would spin the boat round and round 

 like a top, have had the current swing me into fallen 

 trees ; have had the boat bump against logs and banks 

 with a force that would threaten destruction to the 

 whole outfit, and yet, I never had an accident. The 

 boat is broad and low, the water may break over the 

 bow, and run in a stream over the bow and sides, but 

 the combing of the cock-pit will keep it out, and a little 

 sprinkling is the most inconvenience I have experi- 

 enced at any time. 



My attention was first called to the absolute safety 

 of these boats when a boy. Having at that time implicit 

 confidence in my abilities as a swimmer, I would often 

 court an accid?,nt in one of them. It would be in the 

 warm summer time, when dressed in linen pants, shirt 

 waist, and bare-footed. At that time, with a companion 

 equally as reckless, we would go out in the roughest 

 part of the Mississippi, in the highest winds, greatly to 

 our pleasure, but to the terror of kindly disposed old 

 ladies, who watched us from the shores or steamboats. 

 These boyish excursions bred in me a spirit of confi- 

 dence in the sea qualities of these boats that I have 

 always remembered. 



In my experience, they are far ahead of any 

 style of hunting boat yet discovered, except in thickly 

 tangled wild rice then they are bunglesome, and of 

 little account, because of their great width. They 

 are not a speedy boat, but row easy ; their shortness 

 rather holds them back, and they do not follow the 

 stroke like longer boats. 



We see advertised "hunting skiffs," "bow-facing 



