WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



pays no attention to the one in the water, knowing it 

 cannot be had. The two he has are the largest of 

 their kind. 



And no\\ that we have seen how geese are killed 

 from sculling boats on the Mississippi, on sand-bars in 

 the Missouri, the Mississippi and Platte rivers, let us 

 ascend the ladder of goose-shooting farther, and having 

 passed its lower rounds, seat ourselves for a while on 

 its pinnacle, and from that extreme height, forget for a 

 time the milk of the articles written of or on sculling 

 and sand-bars, and partake of the cream of this grand 

 sport, which we will skim off from the plains of Nebras- 

 ka and the fields of Dakota. I have hunted geese in 

 both. But the scenes and incidents described will be 

 from actual experience in Nebraska near the Platte 

 river. Many of you have been over the Union Pacific 

 Railroad through Nebraska, and are quite familiar 

 with its scenery. Level and flat, with slight, and very 

 slight, undulations, a country where the eye can look 

 forth on a plain, and see the blue sky kissing the wav- 

 ing grass, forming a distant line, miles and miles from 

 the observer, a perfect ocean of prairie land. 



The time of goose-shooting here is both in spring and 

 fall. In the spring, being on their journey to the North, 

 warm days makes them uneasy. They dislike to stay, 

 and feeling that their summer residence is in repair, 

 and waiting for occupancy, they hurriedly depart. 



In the fall it is different. They are returning bound 

 for their Southern homes. Coming as they do as the ad- 

 vance-guard, the sure precursors of cold wintry months, 

 they seem to have confidence in their ability to 

 keep in advance of howling winds and drifting 

 -snows, and make a long and welcome visit on the Platte. 



