OF SHOOTING AND FISHING 69 
the banks were weed-grown for some distance fur- 
ther, and then the weeds gave place to mud banks 
six inches high. In a short time I appeared to be 
out at sea, as no shore near at hand was visible. It 
was a very dark morning—a few stars giving but 
feeble light. Birds were moving, and occasionally 
a flock of ducks dashed past me, going up or com- 
ing down. As it was the opening day, the birds 
had no regular flight; they had never been fired 
at, so they came and went without fear. I heard 
the wings of great flocks passing overhead at times, 
but it was too dark to shoot. 
While I was wondering ‘‘where next,’’ the boat 
eame to a full stop. I rowed, but could hardly 
move it, so taking an oar pushed it about a yard 
and then in pulling the oar out of the mud I drew 
the boat back just the same distance. Stepping 
out and sinking above my knees, I pushed the boat 
forward easily, but the difficulty of getting my 
legs out without pulling the waders off was great. 
At last I managed to struggle into deeper water, 
and as the light was getting better, I took my bear- 
ings. The overflow had opened into the North 
Bay and at the west side of its mouth there was 
a bunch of tules, which I struggled to reach. 
Pushing the boat into these, with the cut willows 
and tules, 1 managed to make a very fair blind— 
for an amateur. It was too perfect a screen, in 
fact, but on the opening day the ducks are not very 
particular. Concluding that the birds would keep 
along the south coast of the bay and turn this cor- 
ner sharp, I made myself comfortable and watched 
