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WILD FOWL SHOOTING. 



There is one thing the hunter should never forget,, 

 that is, to mark the flight of a goose he feels satisfied 

 lie lias hit hard. They will often fly off, to all appear- 

 ances unhurt, only to let go everything after flying 

 from 75 to 500 yards, and then fall stone dead, making 

 a resounding thud on the frozen ground, not unlike 

 thumping the earth with a stuffed club. It is surpris- 

 ing how far one can hear this thud, and I can safely 

 say, without fear of contradiction, that a goose falling 

 on the frozen ground from a height of sixty to eighty 

 yards with a slight wind blowing toward the shooter,, 

 the thud can be heard three quarters of a mile, if not 

 farther. Geese are very tenacious of life, and some- 

 times after being hard hit will rise in the air, set their 

 wings, and sail toward the earth, slightly descending, 

 without a quiver of their set wings, and finally alight 

 softly on their feet, teeter forward, then backward,, 

 and pitch forward again dead, with outstretched wings. 

 As we were riding along through the tall bottom grass, 

 which in the low land waved its flaunting yellow points 

 at our sides, occasionally we heard the faint honk of a 

 goose. We tried our best to locate it, scanning closely 

 every point of the now blue sky. At the North, hung 

 heavily against the heavens a long stretch of what the 

 residents called bluffs. They were hills, reaching per- 

 haps an actual elevation of fifty feet, sloping gently 

 back from the bottom land. We were coming from tho 

 South, and as far as the eye could see in the direction 

 of the East and West, there was one unbroken line of 

 rank coarse slough grass interspersed with fields of 

 yellow corn, and an occasional farm house, that stood 

 out in bold relief against the bright s^y, with its 

 drifting white and blue clouds. The driver called our 



