410 FEATHERED GAME 



a tiny little songsparrow, perched near by and 

 quivering with the joy of springtime, sends 

 forth his brave little song in merry greeting; 

 the awakened crow gives out an occasional caw- 

 ing as he starts forth from the pines for his 

 breakfast on the shore, and just out of range 

 of the watcher's gun a bunch of big blue herons 

 playing ''follow my leader" passes by in slow 

 and dignified flight, northward bound. The de- 

 coys anchored across the, gentle breeze are rid- 

 ing motionless in a calm streak under the shelter 

 of the ledge, but in plain sight and sure to be 

 noticed by any passing flock coming in from 

 sea, and all is ready. 



While still too dark for him to shoot, the gun- 

 ner has seen shadowy forms flitting past in the 

 uncertain foreground, and now with the in- 

 creasing light comes the hurry and rustle of 

 wings carrying hungry birds to their feeding 

 grounds inshore. 



Here they are! Where they came from no 

 one knows, for two seconds ago not a feather 

 was in sight, but out of the water they appear 

 as if by magic and are almost upon the gunner 

 before he sees them. They have sighted the 

 decoys and swing in toward their new-found 



